Yet it wasn’t the primal instinct of my body I was worrying about. It was the way my heart twisted when I looked at her beautiful face, turned up to the moonlight when she came up for air, that disturbed me most.
That and the urge I had to touch her. Hold her in my arms. Kiss her lips.
Make her mine.
Why?
I had no fucking idea.
3: Layla
I’d always been lucky.
Unlike a few of my school friends who had stepfamilies they didn’t get along with, I was one of the fortunate ones. Not only did I adore my stepdad, Milton Forbes, I actually liked and got along with both of my stepsiblings.
From my desk, I peered over the computer screen to where my stepsister had sprawled herself out on my double bed. After breakfast and still in her pajamas, she’d come to my room to hang out. I just smiled and indulged her, happy to have her companionship. As long as she didn’t divert my attention too often, I’d never shut her out.
Taylor was a gorgeous sixteen year old going on twenty-one. She was beautiful with a heart shaped face and golden blonde hair. Her long limbs moved gracefully as her feet danced in the air to the rhythm of the music she was listening to on her iPod. Lying on her stomach and flipping through a magazine, she was in her own little bubble. She hummed a tune softly, completely absorbed by what she was doing.
As if she felt my gaze on her, Taylor looked up from her magazine with a concerned expression on her face.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. How is that little girl you were telling me about? Is she any better yet?”
Taylor could come up with the strangest things at the most random times, but I liked that she’d taken an interest in my young patient. “Carmen? She’s doing really well actually. She’s able to walk a short distance by herself.”
“You really are amazing, you know? Helping people like Carmen become mobile again after an accident, it must be so amazing and overwhelming.”
My smile beamed back at her. “It is. Nothing beats the look of pride and joy on a person’s face when they achieve something the rest of us take for granted every day.”
“I know. You must feel so proud too, seeing her achieve that. ‘Specially after the doctors said she may never walk again.”
My eyes misted up. It had been a long and hard struggle to get Carmen to this point. “Well, if there is one lesson I’ve learned, it’s to never give up. Persistence pays. And Carmen’s parents were incredibly supportive too. That’s crucial in a case like this. Miracles happen if we believe in them, you know.”
“You’re such a softie, Layla. The world is so much better for having you in it.”
The sincerity in her voice and her beautiful words choked me up even more. “I’m just doing my job, baby girl. Helping other people is what I do best. It makes me happy.”
“When I grow up I want to be just like you!” The passion in her voice surprised me. I felt humbled yet slightly embarrassed that she thought so highly of me.
“Haha,” I laughed. “You’re going to be spectacular in your own right. Just find something you love and it won’t feel like work at all. But talking of work, I’ve got to get back to this assignment, missy, it’s not going to finish itself.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry for distracting you.”
“No worries. It’s nice of you to care enough about Carmen’s progress to ask after her. But the due date on this is looming and I still need to write a crapload of pages. So let me get back to work okay?”
She nodded and went back to her reading.
This was my last assignment before graduation and I wanted to give it my best shot. Once it was done, I could move to the next stage of my life. I couldn’t wait to finish university and start my career.
Another half hour passed before Taylor looked up from the magazine again. This time she removed the earphones from her head. It was a wonder her eardrums hadn’t burst because I could hear the music pound through that small device all the way to where I sat at my desk across the room.
Her eyes shone as she held up the magazine. “Wow, look at these awesome hairstyles. Do you think Mum would let me color my hair blue or purple and cut it into one of these rad styles?”
Just a little annoyed by the interruption of my thoughts, I swiveled my chair to face her. “Um, what’s that, love?” I asked absentmindedly. My brain was still working on the next paragraph of the conclusion of my paper.
She pointed to a picture of what I could only describe as a God-awful-scary-as-hell goth looking girl with black, purple and blue hair that stood up out from her head as if she’d just been electrocuted. Maybe she had, because her eyes were wide and she was sticking her tongue out; it was pierced with angry looking spikes. Wrinkling my nose, I shuddered and looked back at my gorgeous stepsister. I'd kill to have hair like hers and she wanted to change it to that? Seriously?