Stepbrother With Benefits 4 Page 5

  Maybe we can hang out sometime? What the heck does that mean? Why is he doing this? He was just inside of me! I can still see his erection through his loose pajama pants, and all he has to do is step back in my room, close and lock the door behind him, and he can have me again, but he doesn't.

  He steps out, he leaves me.

  I clench my hands into fists and pound on my bed. It's not! It's not the same! He's not the same! He's...

  Maybe he is. This is what all of the other girls thought, too, isn't it? I realize it suddenly, and it hurts even more. He didn't use me. He didn't do anything to me. I knew exactly what sort of person Ethan Colton was going into this, and now he's showing me exactly what sort of person he is again.

  I grab one of my pillows and pull it over my mouth, holding it there so it can muffle and drown out my pleading sobs.

  "It's not! It's not the same! I don't want it to be the same! I want you to come back, Ethan! I want you to..."

  I cry. It's so strange. I was angry when Jake dumped me, but I didn't cry. Ethan and I weren't even really dating, and so why am I crying right now? I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever know.

  The only thing I know right now is that I have to get up. I have to get dressed and go downstairs because my mom is back home and she's waiting for me.

  I'm smart. I'm an intelligent girl. Lots of people think I'm perfect, at least as far as grades go. They tell me. They say they wish they could do as well as me. I got an almost perfect score on my SATs, graduated high school with perfect grades, said a speech in front of my class about our futures, and received special assignments and initiatives as a freshman in college which is difficult to say the least.

  This is the hardest thing I've ever done, though. Nothing before now could have ever prepared me for this. I have to walk downstairs, see my mother, and pretend like nothing from the past few days ever happened.

  I have to pretend I didn't accidentally fall in love with Ethan Colton, my stepbrother.

  I don't know how this could have happened.

  *** Ethan

  Yeah, fuck you. Fuck off. Just shut the fuck up. I don't want to deal with your shit.

  I'm a jerk. I'm a huge fucking asshole. An arrogant fuck. A douchebag. I hurt girls. I know it. I don't want to hurt them. I seriously don't. I just want to show them a good time. I want to be the safe rebound guy. There, are you fucking happy?

  That's what I do. That's what I've always done. That's why I don't have relationships. I'm not relationship material. There's plenty of assholes who will take advantage of a girl, especially one who broke up with a guy recently and is on the mend. I think that's really fucking shitty, though.

  What I do isn't exactly nice, but I like to think it's nicer than the alternatives. I treat every girl like a fucking Queen, at least for a little while.

  Except her. Ashley's my fucking Princess.

  Ha! Not anymore! What the fuck happened? Why did they have to come home early? A phone call would have been nice. Hey, son, we're coming home earlier than planned. Hope you're not fucking your stepsister while we're gone! That'd be really fucking weird. Just so you know!

  Fuck off. It's not weird. It was fucking perfect until it all went to hell.

  What did I expect? I don't fucking know. Not this. Not what happened. And then that look she gave me. It's like she hates me all over again. I didn't think she liked me before now, but I didn't think she hated me, either.

  Maybe it's not hate. Hate's a strong word. It's just that we both know we can't do this. I thought maybe we could figure it out. I don't know how. Why the fuck are you asking me?

  I thought she locked the door so we could just lounge in bed a little longer. Didn't even have to have sex. I was joking. Yeah, a morning handjob wouldn't be the worst way to wake up, especially with Ashley giving it, but I would have been happy just laying there and cuddling and kissing.

  Who am I and what am I doing? This shit is seriously fucked up. Cuddle and kiss? Holy fuck.

  We can't. We're done. This girl lives in the same house as me. Her bedroom is just down the hall. It barely takes twenty seconds to go from her room to mine, and yet it's an impossible distance now. She might as well be on the sun with me on fucking... ice planet Pluto or whatever. Is it even a planet? I don't fucking know. It's a bunch of crazy science shit and I never really paid attention to any of it.

  You know who would know? Ashley.

  You know who I can't fucking talk to right now? Ashley.

  You know what I'm fucking doing? Nothing with Ashley.

  Almost.

  As soon as I leave her room, I go to mine. I try to stay calm. I kind of wish someone saw me. No one does, though. If they did, this might be better. My dad could yell at me. Her mom, too. What the fuck are you doing in my daughter's room? You really want to know, Mom? I was fucking her. And I want to fuck her again. How the fuck do you like that?

  Nah, I wouldn't do that to her. Ashley doesn't deserve that. Neither does her mom. They're both good people. Better than me. Maybe that's why my dad married her mom. He realized how fucked up we were, and how good they were, and he thought we could become better people with them in our lives.

  My dad did. He's good now. Better. He tries. I can't put up with it. It's been too long.

  I lock my door to keep her from coming in. I don't know if she'll try, but it wouldn't be the craziest thing a girl's done after I ditched them. Ashley knew what was coming. Yeah, it came sooner than I would have liked, but she knew.

  I knew, too. Why can't I stop thinking about her, then?

  I'm hard. I'm not proud of that, but I am, and I have to go downstairs, too. I have to deal with it, so I deal with it. I stomp into my private bathroom and turn on the hot water to take a shower. I strip and get in and under the water. There's good memories in here. And bad ones.

  I think of that first day. I guess it's the day after, if we're being technical. She came in here naked, ready as fuck. It took everything I could not to fuck her right then and there. Take it fucking slow, Ethan. Go slow with her.

  I'm not slow right now. I wrap my fingers around my cock and stroke fast, thinking about her. I can feel her arousal on me still, coating my shaft. It's sexy as fuck, and it's the last time this will ever happen.

  I cum. It doesn't take long. I picture her in the shower with me that first day. She looked a little scared, but interested. I wanted to be careful with her. Those were my thoughts when I saw her then. Be careful with her, you prick. Don't fucking hurt her.

  Look how well that turned out? I'm a real fucking saint over here.

  You'd think that masturbating would have gotten me over this shit, at least for now, but it doesn't. I clean off in the shower and start to wash myself, but a few minutes later I'm hard as fuck again. Holy fucking shit, are you for real?

  Yeah, I guess so.

  I try to ignore it, but I can't. I start thinking about eating her out. Her first time. Fuck, she's delicious. I love the taste of her pussy. I did not get enough of that. I missed a real fucking good opportunity right there.

  Again. Fingers. Cock. Hand. Stroke.

  It takes a little longer, but I coat the fuck out of the shower wall with my cum. It washes off with a quick spray of water, and then there's nothing left but me and my hate and anger and rage. Fuck this shit.

  Conditioner. Just put the goddamn conditioner in your hair, get a fucking towel, and get dressed, Ethan. I have to yell at myself just to get anything done.

  Mostly works. Almost doesn't.

  Yeah, again. You know the drill. How fucking long have I been in this shower?

  The third time seems to stick. I can't get it up anymore after that. How long's that going to last? I feel like as soon as I see her I'm just going to turn into a walking erection again, so who the fuck knows?

  The last time I didn't even think about sex. I thought about us last night, when we were cuddling on the couch and eating pizza. She was laughing at something on TV and then she turned to me and I saw a spa
rkle in her eyes.

  What did she say to me when I got out of the hot tub to go get the pizza? I remember it. I'm never going to forget it.

  Kiss?

  I kissed her then. I kissed her when she was laughing, too. She had a little dab of pizza sauce on the corner of her lips, and I licked it off, then kissed her. Quick. That's it. She blushed and then rubbed her cheek against mine. It was cute. A little different. I don't know why she did that, but I liked it.

  Yeah, real good spank bank material, huh? Masturbate to kissing a girl? Not even a fucking passionate kiss, just something soft and sweet and playful.

  I don't fucking know. It sure as hell worked, anyways. What do you want me to say?

  I get out of the shower and dry off fast. I'm soft now. Fucking finally. I grab a pair of underwear. Nah, two. I need to restrain myself and this should hopefully do the trick. I put on both pairs, then a pair of jeans, too. Takes some work to get that shit on. I don't recommend wearing two pairs of underwear, alright? I'm just looking out for later when I inevitably see Ashley and get an instant hard-on.

  Life is difficult and I hate it.

  I toss on a t-shirt, too, then some socks and shoes, and head downstairs. The least I can do is say hi to my dad and her mom and have some breakfast.

  That's it, though. I can't stay here. Not with her.

  I just can't.

  *** Ashley

  Everything is stifled. Usually when we all eat together, it's like this, but it feels worse now. I want to sit next to Ethan. I want to reach out and touch his hand randomly. I want to kiss him. That's what we did last night when we were eating pizza. We weren't at the table, but we were in the living room watching TV, and I could do whatever I wanted. If I wanted to kiss him, I could kiss him. If I wanted to touch him, I could touch him. It didn't matter how or where. There were no obstacles between us.

  We're sitting at the kitchenette table off of the kitchen, me and him and my mom and his dad. It's bigger than a regular kitchenette table, and we're all spaced apart more evenly. I'm sitting with my mom and his dad to either side of me, and Ethan is opposite me.

  I could touch him, I guess. With my foot. I could stretch my leg under the table and touch my foot to his and no one would know, but it doesn't seem right. I don't think he'll like it. He won't even look at me.

  "How's school going?" his dad asks him. "Keeping up your grades for football, right?"

  "Yeah," Ethan says, practically grunting the word. "Fine."

  "That's great," my mom says, smiling. "Ashley, I'm sure you're doing fine, too?"

  "As always," Ethan's dad says, grinning. "Maybe you could help Ethan study during summer break?"

  "Sure!" I say. I probably sound too eager, but I don't care. "If... if he wants? I don't mind."

  "Yeah, no," Ethan says. "It's summer break for a reason. I need a rest."

  Everything's quiet after that. No one else knows what to say. I eat in silence, and so does Ethan. He still won't look at me. His gaze is straight in his plate, glaring at his food. Pancakes and scrambled eggs and sausage. The pancakes are good, but they aren't as good as his.

  "I was thinking about making fruit smoothies later," I say out of the blue. I try to say it confidently and self-assured, but I stumble halfway through when Ethan jerks his head up, finally looking at me. He's... angry? I'm not sure.

  "If... if anyone wants one..." I add, uncertain.

  "That would be great, Ashley," Ethan's dad says. "It's been nice out lately, and that'd be a refreshing treat after the week your mother and I had. It was a good trip, but a lot of business to deal with."

  "Yeah, you said you'd be gone for a week, but now you're back," Ethan says. "What's up with that?"

  "What, did I ruin your plans for a house party?" his dad says. "I thought we went over this when you trashed the house in high school. Just because you're in college now doesn't change anything."

  "No, he—" I start to say.

  Ethan interrupts me. "Yeah, so what if I was?"

  "I thought you were changing," his father says. "You've been a lot less rebellious lately. The past couple of years were great, Ethan. Everything I've heard from you about your first year at college sounds good, too. Apparently you're determined to make me hate you, though. I don't, and I don't know why you want me to so badly."

  "I think that's enough of that," my mom says. "Everyone's just on edge. It must have been hard for the two of them coming home and having to fend for themselves for a couple of days."

  The two of them. That's us. Ethan and I were alone. I didn't feel alone. Did he?

  "You could really try spending more time with Ashley, Ethan," his dad says. "I think you both have more in common than you might think."

  "Oh yeah?" Ethan says. "So, what, we can start having family game nights or something? Play Hungry Fucking Hippos at the table, laughing, and dipping broccoli florets into creamy Ranch sauce? You want me to wear a fucking sweater vest while I'm at it? I'll go pick one up today. I'll get right on it."

  His father starts to say something, but my mother reaches across the table to calm my stepdad down. Everything is quiet again, but there's miles between all of us. It's staring me right in the face, too.

  I can't be Ethan's friend. I can never be his friend. I don't know if he was lying before, about that and about everything, but I know it's not possible. Our parents will always come between us, figuratively and literally. My mom's hand reaching for Ethan's father isn't just some literary allusion that English majors will study about while reading the book of our lives, it's an actual physical thing that's happening to me right now.

  I look across the table at Ethan, look over my mother's arm that's stretched between us. He's looking at me now, too. Finally he's looking at me. I have so much I want to tell him, but I can't, so I hope he sees it in my eyes. I hope for it so much. I want him to understand.

  I want him to know I love him. Even if it's just for a little bit, I love him and I loved him.

  He turns away, fast. His plate is still half filled with food, but he picks it up and brings it to the trash, then dumps the rest of his meal in the garbage before tossing his plate in the sink.

  "I'm going out," he says to no one in particular. "Sorry for causing trouble."

  My mom gives Ethan's dad a look. "I didn't mean to put so much stress on you immediately after we got back," his dad says. "I just want the best for you. You know that, right?"

  "Yeah, sure thing, Dad. I get it."

  It's the same way he spoke to me this morning. It's almost the same thing he said, too.

  "Let's have dinner together tonight," my mom says. "We can stay in or go out. What do you say?"

  "That sounds nice," I say. With more confidence than I feel, I add, "I would like to try and get to know you better, Ethan. We can be friends if—"

  He stops me. It's just a quick look, but it hurts more than anything. It hurts because he looks so hurt right now, too. It hurts because he doesn't want anyone to know that he hurts.

  "Maybe," he says. "I'll try to be around for dinner. That's it." To me, he says, "You aren't so bad, but I don't think we can be friends. Not like you want." After a second's pause, he adds, "Princess."

  I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. Ethan turns around and leaves after that. A few seconds later I hear the roar of one of the cars in the garage coming to life. I don't know a lot about cars, but I remember how they sound, and he's taking the one we took to the drive-in movie theatre the other night. Does that mean anything, or am I reading into it too much? Is he trying to tell me something?

  I finish eating while my mom and stepdad talk about some things. They keep looking over at me every so often, but I don't want to talk to them. I don't have anything to say, really. I wish these were Ethan's pancakes. I wish we'd made them together this morning.

  "Honey, is everything alright?" my mom asks. "You look upset."

  "If it's about Ethan, he's just—" my stepfather starts to say.

  I stop
him. I can't. I can't talk about Ethan.

  "Jake broke up with me," I say. I start to cry, too. I let out all of the pain and anguish I've been feeling this entire time, setting loose my tears. "Right before I came back here for summer break, Jake broke up with me."

  My mom takes in a deep breath, a sort of backwards gasp of shock. She covers her mouth with one hand. Ethan's father looks around awkwardly, unsure what to do. He gets up and takes our empty plates, bringing them to the sink.

  "I'll let you handle this," he says to my mom. "If you need me, I'm here, though. You know that, right, Ashley?"

  I nod. They think I'm crying because of Jake.

  I'm not. I'm crying because of Ethan.

  It's a good distraction, though. It's better for them to think I'm crying because of something else. This is the best way for me to handle this situation right now. It's the only way I can.

  "What happened?" my mom asked. "I thought you two were doing well?"

  "I mean, we were doing alright,"I say. "We went on dates a couple times a week. We... we had sex, Mom. I..."

  She smiles. "It's alright. You can tell me anything."

  Can I? I doubt it.

  "He told me that he didn't want to wait the entire summer to have sex again, so he was breaking up with me, but we could get back together later."

  "Oh," my mom says. She wrinkles her brow, unsure how to process this. To be honest, I didn't know how to process it when I heard it, either.

  "Yup. Nice of him, huh?"

  "Long distance relationships are hard," my mother says. "I'm sure that's what he meant. He didn't mean that he wanted to have sex with other girls, Ashley. He just wanted to have a nice summer, and he wanted you to have a nice summer, too. If you were both sad about missing each other, it'd be hard, right? That's why he said you could start dating again when you got back to college. I'm sure of it."

  I'm glad my mom is sure of it, because I'm not. I know that's not what he meant. It's nice that she's trying to protect me, though. It's nice that she cares.

  "I know it's hard," she says. "Maybe it's weird to hang out with your mom, but we can if you want. Do you need some new summer clothes? We could go shopping."