Stepbrother Inked(22)

I kept my eyes closed, the fingers of my left hand curling around the  countertop as I tried to stay standing. No good. This is no good. Shit. I  tried to turn my head away, but Florian brought his hand up and ran his  fingers through my hair.

"Stop it," I whispered as my heart hammered against my ribcage and my  breathing came in fits and gasps. Tears tried desperately to squeeze out  from under my eyelids, but I held them back. "Flor, stop."

"The smell of your skin, your hair, your breath," he whispered, "it undoes me."

And then he kissed me.

The heat of his lips seared against mine as his right hand found my face  and cupped my chin, drawing me forward and into his arms. And oh, it  felt good. So good. We unhooked the fingers of our right and left hands,  his finding the top of my jeans, curving beneath the denim and drawing  me forward while his knuckles teased my tattoo. Mine found the strong  muscles of his back and dug into the fabric of his tight T-shirt,  latching onto the cotton fabric like it was a lifeline and I was  drowning. It really felt like I was there for a moment, like Flor was my  only source of life and breath, like if I let go of him, I would lose  myself.

When he pulled back abruptly, running his hand through his hair and  leaving me a panting, melting, stuttering mess, he seemed almost angry.

"Goddamn it, Abigail," he snarled, marching across the kitchen floor and  pausing with his gaze focused on the windows, on the faint sounds of  shouting that echoed around outside. I wondered how long it might be  before Addi or Max got it in their heads to come back and check on me.  "I can't do this!"

"Can't do what, Flor?" I asked, half of me broken and shattered, the  other half almost  …  ecstatic. Because if Flor's actions, if his words,  were anything to go on, then he might, just might, feel the same way  about me as I felt about him. "Flor, I  –  "                       
       
           



       

"Don't say it, Abi," he whispered, reaching back into his pocket. He  withdrew something I couldn't see in the dark half-light and placed it  on the countertop.

"Why?" I asked, standing up straight, feeling those sobs I'd fought so  hard against rise to the surface. "Why won't you let me say what I want  to say, Florian? Why not let me get it out there, so we can talk about  it."

"I don't want to hear it, Abi," he said, and I found my sudden sadness  turning into anger. I clenched my fists tight and moved forward,  grabbing at the back of his shirt and trying to get him to turn towards  me. He refused to budge.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," I growled at him, proud of  myself for keeping my voice strong and even. "If you'd just let me speak   –  "

Flor interrupted me again, moving away and waving his hand dismissively.

When he glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes were cloaked in shadow  and his expression unreadable. He reached up and patted the small box  on the counter.

"Enjoy your present," he said, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and  slipping one between his lips. "Call me when you remember mine, okay,  nee-chan?"

Flor turned away from me and descended the stairs, leaving me alone in the darkness of the apartment.





I'd thrown all of my clothes onto the floor, emptied out the closet,  flipped up the mattress and box spring and still, I hadn't found it.

"Fuck," I said, sweeping some stray strands of hair back from my face.  Today, Friday, yet another family dinner looming on the horizon, and I  couldn't find the damn box. That box. The one that held all of the items  that used to grace my Florian shrine.

"You're up early," Addi said, blinking in the brightness from my open  window. As I turned to look at her, I saw Patrick slide by in the  hallway and disappear into the bathroom. My friend draped herself in the  doorway to my bedroom and yawned. She and Patrick hadn't come home  until dawn and all I had from Max was a text telling me that he was  sorry I wasn't feeling well and that he'd try to bring over some  flowers. Addi's lie to him about my not feeling well was far better than  the truth. I caught you red-handed, you dick, I thought, pushing at a  pile of clothes with my foot. I thought about asking Addi about the box,  but I knew it was useless. She didn't have it; Flor did  –  as evidenced  by the gift he'd left me last night.

A locket. With a picture of us as kids inside. A picture that I knew had come from that box.

"It's a little early for a clean sweep, isn't it?" Addi said, yawning  again. I smiled at her and shrugged as she stood up and padded down the  hallway on bare feet. My cheeks heated and I closed my eyes, biting at  my thumb nail and trying to figure out what I was going to do about  this. I mean, based on what happened last night, it didn't seem like my  feelings for Flor were a secret, not really. And he'd basically  …  I  stopped chewing on my nail and pressed my fingers to my lips. I could  still feel his mouth there, hot and insistent and desperate. But for  what? For me?

I sighed and took a few steps back, plopping down on the window seat opposite my bedroom door.

"This is a disaster," I whispered, dropping my fingers down to the  silver locket and letting it flutter between them as I leaned down and  took a deep breath. Do you even know what today is? I hadn't known what  Flor was talking about when he'd first asked that, but I did now.  Yesterday was the anniversary of the day we'd first met. It hadn't meant  anything to either of us for the longest time, but once, when I was  thirteen, I remembered looking at the calendar and being overwhelmed  with a memory. There was Flor, dark haired and brooding, even at age  eight, standing hand in hand with his mother on my front door step. I  remember hiding behind my dad, shy and confused at what was happening.  The memory itself is blurry: what Flor was wearing, what River said to  me while she stood there with her son, what we even did that day, but  there's one thing that remains perfectly clear. Flor's eyes.

I closed mine now and let the color flood back into my head.

I'd looked at the calendar that day and brought it up casually, already  embroiled in full-blown Flor obsession by that point. He'd sat at the  counter in the kitchen musing on it for a while and then he'd said we  should celebrate. We'd walked down to the burger joint that was a few  blocks from our place at the time and splurged with Flor's allowance.  Ever since then we'd been getting together and having lunch or  exchanging stupid meaningless little gifts. Even in the dry years  between the kiss and the day I'd graduated high school, we'd made time  for that day.

And here I'd gone and ruined it.

I sighed again and stood up, pulling my phone from my pocket and  removing the block on Flor's number. It took a few tries, but I finally  forced myself to dial him up.                       
       
           



       

"Abi?" he asked, sounding sleepy and confused.

"Lunch," I told him, and then after I listed the place and time, I added, "and bring the box."



Flor looked a little wary when he stepped inside Plank Town Brewing  Company, the box under one arm, and a beanie crushed over the dark hair  on his head. He glanced around for a brief moment before spotting me  and, my heart thumping in my chest, I waved him over.

When he set it down on the pale wood of the tabletop, I clenched my jaw and spit it out.

Instead of a hello, or a damn you for taking what wasn't yours to take, he ended up with this:

"I love you, Flor."

A visible shiver shook his body as he took a step back and tore the  beanie from his head, crushing it up in his fist and slamming it down on  the table. Our waitress, approaching with a carafe of water, paused and  set it down on the table two places to our right, pretending to tidy  the menus stuffed between glasses filled with napkin wrapped cutlery.

"Don't do this, Abigail," he said, his voice rough again. I traced his  face, the slight stubble on his jaw, his scar, the piercings in his  eyebrow and those in his lips. I kept my hands locked together in my lap  and said it again.

"I love you, Flor. I always have, and I always will."

"I love you, too, Abi. You're my  …  little sister," he growled out at me,  slumping onto the bench opposite me. I noticed that Flor didn't bother  to look my way, focusing on the waitress who finally decided it was safe  to approach, picking up the water carafe and bringing it over to our  table.

"Can I get you anything else to drink?" she asked us, and I shook my  head. The tension between me and Flor was thick enough to cut with a  knife. As if she could sense that, she added, "I'll give you a moment to  decide," before disappearing.