Step F*#K (A Stepbrother Series Book 1) Read Free

 
    “I’ll go get you some. I left my purse up there too. Maybe call a taxi; there never seems to be one when you need it. I’ll be right back.”  
    She dashes away, leaving me standing there, feeling as though the last hour just happened without my having any say in it at all. What am I getting myself into? I should just turn around and go back inside. Completely ignore SexyStranger , I’m sure he’ll get over it. I’m thinking that’s exactly what I’ll do and I don’t care what Megan is going to say about it, but then I see not one taxi, but two, driving down the street, both with their roof lights on. And before any more thoughts can enter my mind, I’m stepping toward the curb, arm up, hailing not just the first taxi, but the second one, too.

Chateau Marmont is on Sunset Blvd., designed to evoke feelings of being at some sort of grand retreat in France. I learned this in a lecture I took freshmen year, Architecture and Modernity . Despite knowing a bit about the place, however, I’ve never actually been here and my heartbeat quickens as I step out of the taxi in front of the towering white building, something of a cross between a mansion and castle.  
    I linger, waiting for Megan to arrive. I can feel my nerve starting to slip, and if she doesn’t show up in the next few minutes, I’m probably just going to hail a taxi straight back home. What am I doing? I’m not the sort of person who does this, and I sure as hell don’t want to end up a cautionary tale spread across the six o’clock news: Very naïve and very horny college student loses life after foolishly attempting tryst with Internet stranger.  
    But here’s Megan, climbing out of the taxi with the pink leopard print scarf wrapped around her head, giant sunglasses, and a trench coat. She, of course, could make wearing a housecoat look sexy, so she looks great, but totally ridiculous at the same time. She fiddles with the scarf, adjusts the sunglasses, and gives me a grin.  
    “I bet we’ll see some celebrities,” she says. “And if I’m lucky, I’ll fuck at least one of them.” She slides her arm through mine. “But really, tonight is about you. And if this guy turns out to be a total douchebag, text me, and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing—”
    “Or whoever you’re fucking.”
    “ Or whoever I’m fucking—I don’t care if it’s Ryan Gosling—if you need me, I will be there, that’s how much I love you.”
    I smile. “More like, that’s how much you owe me, seeing as you’re the one who signed me up for this site, and if anything happens it will basically be all your fault.”
    She pats my arm. “Nothing is going to happen. Nothing bad , I mean.”
    “You sound so sure of yourself.”
    “I’ve always had good luck on this site. Just wait and see. You’ll be thanking me later.”
    Living in Los Angeles means celebrity sightings are just part of life, but even still, I can’t help but feel a little starstruck as we step inside the lobby. Right away I see that actress who starred in that surprise action hit last summer. I can’t remember her name but she’s sitting there on one of the brocade couches, a hot guy next to her, and she’s speaking to a few people who are clearly important. The interior of this place feels less like a swanky hotel and more like some sort of vintage, funky hangout, just the sort of place you might be able to get into all sorts of trouble.  
    “So what’s his room number?” Megan asks.  
    “Uh . . . Five-thirteen.”
    “I wonder if it’s one of the bungalows,” she muses as we walk to the elevator. She raises a hand. “Hold that please.”
    The guy standing in the elevator jumps forward and thrusts his arm out just in time to stop the door from closing. He’s cute, probably in his mid-twenties, and has a wide-eyed look on his face that blatantly screams TOURIST .  
    “Hey,” he says, looking at Megan. “Are you an actress?”
    She still has her sunglasses on, but she