Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

I slammed the door, rattling the frame viciously. 

The simultaneous voices of my mother and James yelled up at me to cut it out.  I grimaced.  If James was already feeling bold enough to yell at me, that did not bid well for my hope he would get intimidated and run. 

The soft ruffling of paper sounded through the door.  Then a moment of silence.  I jumped as a folded note slipped under the door and rested at my feet. 

Cal’s deep voice chuckled again as his footsteps padded away to his new room. 

I waited until he was gone to unfold it and read:

If you want to scream, you know where to find me.  Cum on over, Sis.

My fingers trembled around the note, my body shaking in anger.  Sure, a moron like Cal Gatlin had no idea how to spell, but something told me that he very much meant it when he asked me to cum.  I crushed it into a ball and threw it into the pink wastebasket next to my desk.

Callum Gatlin thought he was would beat me, I thought as I fell into bed, pulling a pillow over my head to dry the tears.

Callum Gatlin was fucking wrong.

Cal and his father moved in on a Sunday.  Which was great, because I would have gone crazy being around him for an entire weekend. 

Instead, I skipped dinner that night by pretending to be asleep when Mom checked in at six (“Oh, poor thing, she’s just so tired.  It’s been a big day, James”).  I doubted someone like Cal was civilized enough to eat at the table like a human being, but I wasn’t taking any chances. 

On the bright side, Cal never made it less than an hour late to school, which meant I didn’t have to worry about my morning routine.  I pulled on a pink sweater, scooped my hair into a bun, and made a break for my bike before the light underneath his door had even flicked on. 

The weight of the world lifted from my shoulders as I pulled into the school’s parking lot.  My once shaking, now calm hands chained my bike up, and I strolled into the cafeteria with a smile on my face.  Free at last.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

“It’s not true, is it?” Jess stage whispered from behind me.  “Jesus—Cal Gatlin, really?”

My smile disappeared.

My best friend—the brunette to my blonde, the VP to my President, the yin to my yang—fell into step beside me the second I pushed through the school’s front doors.  Stares and whispers followed me everywhere today, but somehow hers were louder than all the rest combined. 

I gritted my teeth.  Regardless of how preppy I dressed, how fine I acted, or how early I showed up, the stench of Callum Gatlin clung to me, turning heads wherever I went.

“Really,” I muttered.  I pulled my hoodie over my face, hoping to hide until this all died down. 

“God, what’s it like living with him?”

“Disgusting.  He’s absolutely disgusting.”

“Come on, sis, I need details.”

“Don’t call me sis,” I snapped, my voice a little too passionate.  Her face twisted.

“Oh God, does he call you
that
?”

I pursed my lips, and she gasped.

“Jesus Christ, Nat.”

“Yeah, well, I’m banking on him getting expelled or arrested before anything gets too bad.”  I pulled the hoodie tighter over me as a gaggle of teachers paused their chatter to sneak glances.  Ugh.  Even the faculty knew I was a dead woman.  “Until then, I’m camping out at your place.”

“Aw, not mine?” a voice said behind me as an arm looped over my shoulder.

My boyfriend (yes, I should mention I have a boyfriend—do you see now why this situation was so shit?) slid his arm around me.  His name was Nathaniel, but everybody called him Nate, and sometimes I think the only reason we got pushed together was that Nat and Nate sounded too cute together. 

That, and the fact that he was my only competition for valedictorian, he was the president of just as many clubs as I was, and lacrosse practice and swim meets had made him attractive.  Enough teachers playing matchmaker and comments from Jess about singleness not fitting the perfect overachiever image later, we were dating. 

If you could call sticking our tongues down each other’s throats at football games “dates.”

“You’re probably right, anyway,” Nate said.  “Dicks like Gatlin never graduate.  I heard he was failing every class, even shop.”

Nate clapped me on the back.  His hand was a little too low this time, brushing the top of my ass.  I grimaced.  He had gotten handsy lately, despite my protests.

“Yeah, well,” I grumbled, slipping into homeroom, “if I don’t make it to lunch, you’ll know who murdered me.”

I wasn’t murdered, though, because Cal didn’t show up to first period—or second, or third, or fourth.  The stares and whispers grew, but they became bearable when I realized that they were sympathetic. 

And impressed.  People weren’t just amazed that someone like Cal was related to someone like me, they were amazed I had survived the night.  A few teachers pulled me aside to offer assistance, and I noticed the hall cop keeping a protective eye on me.  I was a war hero returning from the battlefield.

Maybe I really would make it. 

By lunch, I was feeling positively cheery.

That hope was dashed to pieces when I sat down between Nate and Jess with my brown bagged lunch.  Across the cafeteria, the doors burst open with a sharp kick.  My mouth went dry as Cal stepped in, his eyes scanning the fields of students.  They landed on me, and his face lit up with a smirk.

“Hide me,” I squawked at Jess.

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Jess said.  Her voice was shaking.  Even if everybody looked down on Cal, they were still rightfully terrified of him.  “He’s your brother.”

“Stepbrother!  Step!”

She mumbled something at me as I plotted my escape routes.  But a shadow cast over me.  Jess went silent. 

From behind me, right in my ear: 

“Aw, come on, Sis.  Don’t be like that.”

He drew the word Sis out nice and long, letting it hiss off of his tongue.  Cal stood behind me, his hands on either side of my chair, the warmth of his body pressing against my back.  He grabbed Nate’s chair, currently vacant, and pulled it out with a squeal.  He fell into it with a thump, and his green eyes fixed on me.

“You look sick, Sis.  Need some TLC?”

“You can’t sit here.”

“Sorry, princess, this ain’t Mean Girls.”  He leaned forward.  “Besides, your mother said we need to spend some quality time together.  We need to bond.”

His hand rested on my knee, and every joint in my body locked. 

Please go away, please go away, please go away.

“Aren’t you afraid Officer Furst will find you?” I snapped, hoping the looming threat of prison would scare him off.

He snorted.  “Please.  Furst doesn’t have anything on me.”  He leaned forward, his smirk even more threatening.  “I’m too good at covering my tracks.”

“Just go away,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. 

His gaze burned into me again, and I swore I would have a talk with my mother about this.  Then again, I doubted she would listen to me.  His grip on my knee tightened, snapping me back to reality.  The reality where Cal Gatlin was leaning forward and asking me if I needed help to do anything
naughty
with a twinkle in his eyes.

“And anyway—” Cal continued.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend.”

Nate’s harsh voice rose from behind us.  With a lazy grimace, Cal glanced over his shoulder.  Nate stood there, his hands balled into fists, glaring hard enough to kill someone.  For once, I was glad I had a boyfriend.  Nate could be possessive, but maybe that was a good thing sometimes.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t want you here.”

“She hasn’t made me move yet.”  Cal’s smirk grew, and his head cocked to the side, letting the diamond stud glitter.  “Afraid she likes me more than you, pretty boy?”

“Cal, fuck off,” I snapped.  “Nate, lose the fists.”

Cal’s eyes glanced at me, studying my expression.  Nate, as usual, ignored me, his hands trembling with anger.

“You’ve got five seconds, Gatlin.”

“Nate,” I said.

“Til what?”  Cal leaned forward, his eyes mockingly wide.  “I told you.  She wants me here.”

“Like hell she does.  Two seconds, Gatlin.”

“Til what?” he repeated.  “Til you hit me like you hit her?”

Shit.  Don’t say that!

It was too late.  Nate’s eyes were already on fire.

Nate lurched forward, swinging his fists at my new stepbrother.  I stood up so fast to stop him that my chair squealed back, echoing throughout the cafeteria. 

Every head in the room turned to us, no longer pretending to give us our privacy.  I hated when Nate acted like this—like I couldn’t handle myself, like I was his property.  Even if Cal Gatlin was a menace, I didn’t need him causing a scene.

“Nate, stop,” I hissed, grabbing his arm. 

Without considering the hundreds and hundreds of eyes that were on us, Nate threw his arm back, shoving me away from him.  I stumbled and fell on my ass, my chest aching where he had shoved me.  My lungs gasped for the air that he had knocked out of them.

Nate was stronger than he realized.  Or at least that’s the excuse I gave him, ignoring all the other times it had happened. 

Everyone fixed their eyes on the impending brawl above me, too distracted to notice my place on the ground.  Thank God, I thought, rubbing the sore spot where he had shoved me.

“Don’t fucking hurt her!” Cal growled.  My eyes grew wide as he lurched forward and grabbed Nate by the shoulders. 

Oh God, he’s going to kill him.  He’s going to kill him and I’m going to have to testify at the trial. 

Nate had no chance against him, and everybody knew it.  He was fit, but in a lithe, swimmer kind of way.  No match for Cal’s street fighting muscles.

Luckily, Nate didn’t need chance. 

He needed a three hundred pound hall monitor.

At that moment, our hulking school police officer, Officer Furst, burst through the crowd that surrounded them.  He grabbed Cal’s shoulders and ripped him away from Nate.  Furst was the only person in the town stronger than Cal, which was probably why he was assigned to our high school.