Stepbrother Untouchable(20)

“Um, yeah, that sounds good,” I reply, a little nervously. Jackson stands and offers me his hand. I place mine in his and he leads me out toward the front. We pass Nate on the way, with his arms wrapped around Natasha and his hands tucked into her back pockets.

“Hey man, we're taking off. You think you can find another ride?” Jackson asks.

“What do you mean? You're both leaving?” Nate asks, frowning.

“Yup, we're going back to my place, dude,” Jackson replies. “You cool for a ride?”

“Yeah, come here for a second,” Nate says, his eyes flicking back and forth between us. He takes Jackson's arm and pulls him toward a screen door in the back. “Not you,” he says to me, as I begin to follow.

I bristle at his tone. They disappear out back and I look after them, my mouth open in shock and annoyance. I can't believe the way Nate talks to me sometimes. So dismissively. I exchange a polite smile with Natasha, who is now looking around the party aimlessly, clearly bored without Nate.

Screw Nate. I’ll do whatever the hell I please, and I want to know what he's saying.

I brush past Natasha, push open the screen door and walk into the small, fenced-in backyard. There are fewer people out here, but there's still a crowd. I can just see Nate and Jackson talking in a back corner. I weave my way through the people, keeping my head down so they don't notice me. I take out my phone so I look like I'm doing something other than eavesdropping, and sidle into the group nearest to them. I can just overhear what they're saying.

“Why, do you want her Nate?” Jackson asks angrily. My eyes widen.

“Fuck no, she's my stepsister. It's just weird, that's all. You two. She's not your type.” I feel a stab of pain at the finality of Nate's words.

“She's gorgeous,” I hear Jackson reply.

“You think she's gorgeous?” Nate says, beginning to laugh. “Seriously? Dude, come on. Besides, she's a fucking buzz kill.”

I don't want to hear any more. I can already feel angry tears building up behind my eyes. I'm so stupid. Why do I keep giving Nate the benefit of the doubt, when he is so clearly such an asshole?

I walk quickly back inside, through the living room, and out to the street. I turn toward the left, where I can see a busier street, and hustle toward it. I know it's going to be a pricey cab ride back to the house, but I feel like I'm about to explode into a puddle of tears.

And I don't want to give Nate the satisfaction of seeing me cry.





CHAPTER ELEVEN





I breathe in as deeply as possible and hold it, counting to ten before exhaling as slowly as I can, trying to rid myself of the hurt feeling that followed me home from the party. It’s a trick I learned to control my anxiety, and to say that I’m anxious right now would be an understatement.

I can't remember the last time I heard someone talk about me like that, though I suppose it's partially my fault for eavesdropping. I finally start to feel calm enough to go to sleep, and reach to turn off my bedside lamp.

A rush of footsteps up the stairs makes me pause. I sit up a bit as they continue down the hallway toward my bedroom. A second later, my bedroom door bursts open and Nate walks in, his face dark with anger.

“You're in bed? You've gotta be fucking kidding me. That was really selfish of you to run off without telling anyone, you know that?” he spits at me, then turns around and walks out.

I'm frozen in shock for a moment. What the hell was that? What does he have to be mad at me for? I leap out from under my covers and march out of my bedroom just in time to stop him from shutting his door. He swings around as I charge into his room.

“I'm selfish? You are just…you are just…” I stumble in my anger, trying to think of the right word.

“Yeah, you're selfish, Brynn! I looked around that party for you for thirty minutes! I thought you might have been kidnapped! I almost called the cops!”

“Wait…what?” I reply, completely thrown.

“Ever heard of a text message?” he asks, his voice laden with sarcasm.

“Yes, I've heard of a text message!” Man, I wish I were better at arguing. “Hey, wait a second, this isn't about me, this is about you! You're the asshole! I heard what you were saying about me to Jackson, I'm not a buzzkill, and maybe I'm not gorgeous, but I'm not some kind of joke, either!” I fight back the tears welling in my eyes, more angry than I’ve ever been in my life. There, that got him. He stands dumbfounded and I seize the opportunity to walk out.

Just as I'm about to cross the threshold, he reaches around me and closes the door in front of me. I stop short and turn around angrily, almost ready to smack him. He's standing so close to me I'm practically pinned against the door.