Stepbrother Surrender: A Step Romance Novella (3 page)

           “Um,
yeah you do too” I ejected a dorky grunt.  My hands felt awkward so I started
playing with my hair and looking to the side.

           When
I lived with Brandon before, I never
really
cared about being seen in a
compromising situation in front of him. He’d seen me a million times walking
around in my pajamas with my hair up, or biting my nails as I aimlessly browsed
the internet; but now I’d felt myself becoming very self-conscious.

          
How
do I look? Am I acting weird?
I thought to myself frantically.

           These
insecurities had become kind of foreign over the years. I mean sure, I still
had plenty of flare ups when I somehow looked five pounds heavier or I had a
bad hair day, but I was very different from the one Brandon used to pick on.

           I
was nineteen now, in community college and I’d developed a full figure that was
approached often by guys way hotter than my younger self could have ever
dreamed.

           And
Brandon even seemed to notice that I was
far
from flat chested.  I had caught
his eyes wandering down to my cleavage just before we hugged.  At least I
think
that’s where he was looking. 

           While
I expected I’d looked different to him, I wondered if he had any idea how
different
he
looked to
me
.  His wide shoulders, tall strong
physique, blonde hair stubble and glowing green eyes took my breath away now
that they had evolved into a mature and rugged image.

           Brandon
even sported a couple of tattoos on his tanned arms and a dog tag around his neck
that sparked my curiosity.  I tried to forget about it.  He’s my stepbrother,
and that should be the end of it.

            “Hungry?” Dad asked him.

           “Yeah
I could definitely eat; Elle, you hungry?” Brandon asked, turning to me.

           I
looked deep into his eyes and nodded.  He had no idea just
how
hungry I
was.

          
Chapter Two

           We
headed to a seafood restaurant near home that we used to go to when Brandon
lived with us.  I never cared for it, but I had a feeling I’d be fond of this
place now that the new and improved Brandon was with us.

           “Wow,
this place looks exactly the same” he joked as we followed the waitress to our
pirate-ship booth.  “Remember all the times we came here, Elle?”  I
remembered.  I remembered how he threw straw wrappers at me when I wasn’t
looking or kicked me under the table.  I remembered how he never got
reprimanded because Dad was too afraid to discipline someone else’s son.

           “So
Brandon, I suppose you’re moving back here if you get this gig, huh?” Dad
inquired, scooting inside the seat.  My heart stopped at this news. 
Brandon
moving back to Florida?

           “Yep,
it’s pretty exciting, huh?  It’s going to be nice to be back home,” Brandon
smiled across the table at me, as I wondered how he could ever think of Miami
as his home.

           I
must have looked awkward as his eyes met mine; deep, green and confident as
hell.  It was enough to make me slide down in my seat, uncertain of my own
newly acquired confidence.

           “So
Elle, what’s the
411
?” he laughed.  “Dad says you’ve got a boyfriend and
you’re looking into going to Emory in the fall?” Brandon said.

           “Yeah,
pretty much” I said, laughing nervously as he peered into my eyes.

           I
was kicking myself inside.  
Come on Elle.  He’s just your brother.  Plenty
of women have attractive brothers, but that doesn’t change anything!

           “Well,
we kind of broke up” I said as Dad’s hands fell to the table in disbelief.  I
caught a smile forming in the corner of Brandon’s lips.

           “Andrew
broke up with you? Oh sweetie” Dad started, but I interrupted.

           “Dad
seriously, it’s not a big deal, he was an ass” I shot back, not wanting to
discuss it in front of Brandon
or
dad.

           “Elle
you know what I said about using that word” Dad pointed his finger out.

           “It’s
a perfectly harmless word” I debated him on the origin of language and how
words are formed.  He turned to Brandon, laughing.

           “She’s
Emory material, huh?” He elbowed Brandon.

           “You
know dad, Emory isn’t cheap,” Brandon grew stern.

           “Not
with a scholarship,” he proudly pointed out.  “Elle worked really hard and
ended up with one of the highest GPA’s in the state; they were falling over
themselves to hand her one” he boasted.

           “Well,
I guess keeping your nose buried in books all these years really paid off,
Elle?” He asked as I played with my hair, shrugging.  “So why are you at the
community college?”

            “I
wanted to get a few of my basics out of the way over the summer, just to get a
head start, you know?”  I felt my hands trembling as he watched me talking.

           Brandon’s
gaze seemed to be lingering on me longer than required by a casual
conversation, and there was a fire in his eyes I’d never seen before.  I swore
I could feel tension coming from his side of the table, too.

           But
it only made me more nervous, and as I looked away, I felt the heat of blush
coming to my face.  I knew I needed to say
something
to take the
attention off me, so I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

           “Uh,
what kind of job are you getting, anyway?”  It wasn’t a bad choice,
thankfully. 

           Brandon
smiled wide and all I could think about was how much I wanted to plaster my
face to his and feel his body wrapped around me.

           “Well,
I received my degree in Kinesiology and then I spent some time doing research
in a myofascial program and-” Brandon was really getting into it just as Dad
chimed in excitedly to simplify it.

           “He’s
a massage therapist; isn’t that cool, Elle?” Dad said as Brandon laughed,
shrugging.  He looked a little embarrassed but brushed it off quickly.

           “Well,
it’s not
exactly
like that but almost. I’ll have to give you a massage
while I’m here, if you want, Elle” Brandon added as his eyes held on to me once
more.  I could feel myself turning red again, completely giving it away when I
dropped my fork nervously onto the plate.  The loud clanging seemed to attract
the attention of the entire restaurant, making matters worse.

 A light tingle crawled up my thighs at
the thought of Brandon massaging me; the familiar warm electric feeling in my
core hinted at a spark or two as I suddenly felt horny.

          
Elle,
stop it!  He’s family, move on.

           I
had to keep reprimanding myself all through dinner as we scarfed our food down.
 I continued to fight my lingering eyes that were trying to undress my stud
step-brother.  I couldn’t look at him for two seconds without imagining those
ripped abs from the picture I saw of him.

           After
dinner we headed back to the house and less than an hour later, Dad was headed
out the door, hugging me then Brandon.  I had almost forgotten that I’d be home
alone with Brandon this whole time.  I felt pained with desire and sick with
worry.  I reminded myself that nothing would happen, but my body didn’t believe
me.

           “I’m
going to miss you so much, but you remember to be a good hostess for Brandon
and I’ll see you Wednesday night,” Dad said as his carpool honked impatiently
at the end of the driveway.

           He
closed the door behind him and suddenly it was just me and Brandon, alone.

            Brandon
didn’t say a word to me, but instead walked to the sofa and turned on the T.V. 
I stood in the foyer deciding whether to stay with Brandon or head up to my
room to read.  I decided to stay.

           I
went to join him on the sofa where he was watching television, and noticed that
he was watching some political talk show; something the old Brandon wouldn’t
have done if his life depended on it.

           No,
the Brandon I knew when I was younger watched sports.  Or sometimes he’d hog
the television to watch his oafish reality shows about greased up meatheads
living in some downtown la-la land where drama was the only reality.

           I’d
be sitting on the sofa, turning my nose up to it as I tried to stay focused on
my sci-fi novel.  But as I now sat next to the older Brandon,
he
seemed
like the more intelligent one, and it was only increasing my attraction to him.

           The
political pundit’s monotone jargon went straight over my head, but I was
secretly turned on by the occasional witty remarks Brandon made at the
television.

           “They
should know better than to try that in Serbia, especially considering what
happened, especially after swindling the voters in the southern part of the
country” he’d say, looking over to me for some kind of approval.

           “What’s
your take on it? Do you follow this stuff?” He asked me, sounding excited.

           “Um,
sometimes” I blatantly lied. I had no idea what the hell he was talking about,
but his intelligence mixed with those damned dreamy looks and new sense of maturity
could have me spinning lies left and right.

           “I
just think they should stop fighting” I guessed at a vague answer.   His eyes
lit up.

           “See,
that’s exactly what I’ve been saying. They drew the party lines completely
wrong and now there are warring factions all over the place,” he said as I
nodded, utterly terrified I was going to look like an idiot. 
Why am I even
trying so hard?
  I wondered.  But one look at Brandon reminded me of the
answer.

           Every
movement Brandon seemed to make was intent and confident.  I wondered where
this new interest in news and politics came from.  Maybe they were dormant
during his jock days and he had feared exploring them.  Brandon was more
intriguing by the moment.  As he talked, I involuntarily matched the last
couple of boyfriends I’d had up against Brandon, and they all looked like
little boys next to him.  All of my exes acted their age or younger.  They
played video games, teased jokingly, and had little aspiration beyond where to
grab a burger that night.  I would’ve guessed Brandon to be even more immature
than them, but he suddenly seemed wise beyond his years.