Stuck On My Stepbrother Read Free Page B

in since I was a child, on the left-hand side, behind the driver’s seat. As I looked out of the window, watching the last of the ceremony’s revellers, standing out on the sidewalk, warm and drunk and laughing, I remember catching the eyes of the man who’d dominated my thoughts that night: Adam. He stepped away from the group he was with, watching my mom’s car drive away. Presumably he didn’t recognise Mom’s car, since she had a new one these days, but I’d felt his eyes on me, in the back seat, and I instinctively put my hand up to my mouth, swallowing away my embarrassment, frustrated with myself for crying onstage in front of him.
    And I remembered Jen too. How drunk she’d been when we all got off stage. That she’d told me my predecessor, Ryan, had been much more fun – that they’d been drinking buddies, that Ryan had understood her, that he’d been good at his job, too good, and that’s why he’d left. He’d gone on to better things, leaving Jen in this old place, with an Irish idiot (Patrick had gritted his teeth) and a young, Bambi-eyed pea-brain (I’d gritted my teeth). Shortly after that, Jan threw up on her dress and got a cab home, and Patrick and I had spent the rest of the night with Paul, having the obligatory pat on the back Paul seemed so keen on giving my back in particular.
    As the hot water danced over my skin, I felt a little color return to my cheeks again. The scent of jasmine in my shower gel cheered me up, and I began to feel a bit perkier. Maybe Christina, our boss, would go easy on us after our success last night. And no doubt whatever state I was in, Patrick would be just as bad, and Jen would be off the scale. At least going in today would be a chance to clear the air with Jen. I was sure she’d just said what she said because she was drunk. I hoped so, anyway. I was terrified of another confrontation. If I cried again, I’d…
    Even thinking about crying made me feel like I was about to set off again. Ridiculous! It had to be the hangover. I’d eat a couple of slices of toast. That’d sort me out. I had to stop being so weak. It’s like my Mom always told me: be strong to get along .
    I rubbed the shower gel over myself a little harder, massaging my breasts, going under my armpits, running the soap between my legs. Be strong to get along , I thought, as I vowed to stop worrying about having upset Jen. Be strong to get along . I slid my fingers right up close against my pubis, stroking the soft skin and hairs on my delicate cleft, thinking about my stepbrother, wondering how much he hated me after last night’s scene. I bet he thinks I’m pathetic . His pathetic, silly little stepsister. I let my soft fingertips circle my clitoris. A total embarrassment. A gasp escaped my lips.  
    I bet Adam thinks I’m completely worthless.
    I gasped again.  
    Oh, Adam. I’ve missed you.

CHAPTER FIVE
Miss Goody Two-Shoes

    I’d tried to be quick, but I still ended up arriving at the office ten minutes late. Luckily I wasn’t the only one. I saw Patrick in the parking lot, only just heading in as well. Oh man, he looked rough. My shower had really perked me up. I think I must have looked quite spritely, in comparison.
    ‘Rose,’ he said to me, as we walked in through the double-doors together, ‘I feel like feckin’ death.’
    I shot him a sympathetic smile. ‘Me too,’ I said.
    ‘Let’s stop here for a coffee,’ he said, motioning at the coffee stand at reception.
    ‘But we’re already late…’ I said, looking anxiously at my watch.
    Patrick stopped walking. ‘You’re worried about breaking the rules or something?’ He was grinning ear to ear. ‘Scared of Christina? She’s a pussy cat. I promise. She might not look it, but…’
    ‘I just don’t want to get in trouble,’ I said coyly. ‘I’m still on my probationary period, and I don’t want to mess up.’
    Patrick smiled and shrugged. ‘Okay, Miss Goody Two-Shoes. We’ll go up to the office then. But