Stepbrother Inked(32)

I tried to imagine that this was like detox, that Flor was the drug I'd  always jokingly referred to him as. I wanted that damn drug out of my  system.

When the weekend finally rolled around again and I knew I'd have more  free time on my hands, I dedicated it to watching my parents' house with  a vengeance. I watered all of River's stupid, delicate exotic plants  and brushed their cat out, trimming a few small mats from its long,  luxurious orange fur. I mowed the backyard and spent several hours in my  old room, sorting through things that I'd left behind. On Sunday, I'd  finally run out of things to do and settled on the couch to watch a  horror movie, a pint of low fat ice cream tucked in beside me. I'd been  making an effort to exercise, too, to shed some of the 'baby fat' that  I'd been carrying around for far too long. And the thing is, this time,  it wasn't for Flor's benefit. I just wanted to be trim and fit, not  skinny. If I felt healthy and looked healthy, then I couldn't really ask  for anything more, now could I?

I spooned some Cherry Garcia goodness into my mouth, dragging the creamy  cold pink across my tongue. Addi and I were texting back and forth.  She'd been planning to come over and hang out, but Patrick had flown in  unexpectedly and they'd gotten lost in each other. I understood and I  told her to enjoy the evening while simultaneously writing to Max to see  what he was up to. He told me he had a client, but that he'd try to  stop by later.

Halfway into my carton and about twenty minutes into the movie, I saw  headlights sweep across the curtains as a car pulled into the driveway. A  few minutes later keys sounded in the door as I finished another bite  of my much needed treat.

"Dad?" I called, waiting as I listened to footsteps sound across the  wood floor. Only, as soon as I heard them, I knew that wasn't my dad. My  dad did not wear boots  –  only Flor did. He paused in the doorway to the  living room and our eyes met, my body instantly crying out for him,  undoing all of the careful work I'd taken on this week in an effort to  extricate him from my life.                       
       
           



       

Shit.

"What are you doing here?" I snapped, a lot meaner than I'd intended.  Showing him how much I still really cared was not going to get him off  my back. Indifference would've been much preferred. He ignored me for a  moment, his gaze traveling from the ice cream to the blanket on my  shoulders to the television screen and then back to my face. I watched  from the corner of my eye as he tucked his hands back in his pockets,  keys jangling as he wrangled them into the tight denim.

"Mom and Dad," he said, using those hated words of mine, "said we needed  to watch the house while they were gone. I came to feed the cat and  water the plants."

I pursed my lips.

"It's a little late, don't you think? The cat would be dead right now if  he'd had to wait for you." I continued on with my ice cream and cringed  inwardly when Flor moved over to the cushions and sat down beside me. I  didn't bother looking at him, hoping he'd leave sooner rather than  later, when he started kicking off his boots, stealing a corner of my  blanket and taking refuge on the opposite side of the couch.

I glared at him and he met my gaze with a bored stare. It did nothing to  diminish the beautiful green of his eyes and I found my breath catching  in my throat. Damn it. I felt like an alcoholic taking a swig from a  bottle of vodka after a week sober. It shouldn't feel so good, but it  did, burning on its way down and taking over me.

"How are the kittens?" I asked instead, hoping to keep the words between  us tame. As soon as the movie was over I'd leave and it wouldn't have  to look like I was running away.

"Good," he said noncommittally, stretching both arms above his head. His  shirt lifted just enough for me to see his abs, the tightness of his  muscles beckoning to me in a way that just wasn't right. Last night, Max  and I had  …  we'd managed to find time to spend the night together,  rolling around in my old bed in a way that my father never would've  approved of. So it wasn't like I was desperate for sex. I'd just had  some and here I was, pining over fucking Florian again. "Getting bigger  by the day. You still want one, right?"

"I never said I wanted one," I told him, spooning more ice cream into my  mouth. "You told your mom that in an effort to get me out of the house.  I can't take on a cat right now. I have a lot on my plate."

Flor grunted, but I could tell he wasn't happy about it.

"What about Rhonda? Why not give one or two to her? Then can you can  keep the others." Flor said nothing, yet again, leaving me fuming and  frustrated on my end of the couch. When he adjusted himself, lifting his  legs up onto the cushions, our feet bumped together and I had to bite  the inside of my cheek to stay calm. Even the simplest touch from him  undid me. I wondered if he felt the same? That thought brought Flor's  words back to my mind unbidden.

The smell of your skin, your hair, your breath  …  it undoes me.

Provided he'd been telling the truth then, I had my answer, didn't I? The answer was yes, yes it did.

"What did you mean?" I started to ask as he turned his head slowly to  look at me. His fingers came out and snatched my ice cream carton away.  "Hey!" I struggled after it, ending up more on top of him than I really  wanted to be. "I worked my ass off this week for that."

"Low fat?" he said with a wrinkle of his nose. "Why the hell would you want to eat that?"

I frowned at him, forgetting for a brief moment all of the crap that was happening between us.

"I'm working out, trying to lose some weight." I pinched the skin of my  hip. "I'm not succumbing to the freshman fifteen. I refuse. I'm finally  going to shed some of this baby fat."

"Baby fat?" Flor raised his eyebrows skeptically. "Nee-chan, that's not  baby fat." He leaned forward and swept an arm around my waist,  simultaneously lifting my shirt up and grazing his fingers against my  skin. "This is  …  fuck. This is all about being a woman. You're supposed  to be soft." I slapped his hand away and stumbled back, my cheeks  flushing, my heart stuttering.

No. No. I wouldn't do this again. Not again. Not for the hundredth plus freaking time.

"Flor, stop," I said, but he'd already retreated, putting his legs back  on the floor and spooning out the last bites of ice cream for himself.

"I'm going to go make some popcorn," he told me and then stood up. I  breathed a sigh of relief the second he left the room and turned back to  the TV. I didn't even care what was happening in the movie anymore. It  just didn't seem relevant. Who the hell cared what choices a movie  heroine made when I couldn't even dictate my own life?

I listened to the distant sound of cabinet doors opening and closing,  wondering if Flor was looking for the fridge the same way I always did  when I came over here. What was so wrong with having a fridge you could  see anyway? I liked our old kitchen better, the one with the worn  countertops and the cabinets that didn't quite close all the way. It  felt homey, real. The more I thought about it, the more realized I  actually hated the new remodel.                       
       
           



       

"This kitchen fucking sucks," Flor said, coming back in the living room  and leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. I  tried not to notice how the black cotton fabric of his T-shirt stretched  across his muscles, how his jeans hugged his legs and slung low across  his hips. Even though he'd essentially been wearing different versions  of the same outfit for years, I couldn't stop appreciating it  –  or the  body underneath.

I just stared at him, tucking myself back under the blanket. I listened  to the whirring noise of the popcorn maker and tried not to let myself  get too comfortable. It felt too  …  right when we were together like  this, too much like old times. And then, of course, Flor had to go and  agree with me on every little thing all the time. Why? Why couldn't we  be like the stepsiblings I saw on TV that fought all the time? And our  parents just had to be this fairytale couple, didn't they?

"What are you even doing here, Flor?" I asked finally. "I mean, not why  did you stop by, but why are you still here? Max is probably already on  his way here." A lie, of course, because I knew Max wasn't coming for  some time, but I liked the way the news of his best friend's imminent  arrival ruffled Flor's feathers. "You offered to cheat on your  girlfriend to teach me a lesson, Flor. What makes you think I want to  hang out with you now?"