Wrecked: A Stepbrother Romance Novel Page 3

  When his eyes landed on me, I saw them widen before a slow smile stretched across his lips. Even though I wished I didn’t care about his opinion, I realized in that moment that I most certainly did.

  “What do you think?” I asked, giving him a twirl so he could see the entire thing.

  Brandon swallowed hard, his eyes moving up from the dress to my face as he said, “You look so beautiful, Vanessa. It’s perfect.”

  There was something in his eyes that told me he was desperate to say more, but his gaze flickered to the attendant and his mouth snapped shut. I looked away and smoothed out the wrinkles of the dress with my hands.

  “Are you sure you can pay the difference?” I quietly asked, hoping the woman wouldn’t overhear. “It’s not cheap.”

  “I’d love to. That dress looks like it was made for you,” he said with a nervous smile.

  I nodded and started to move back towards the dressing room, but immediately stopped when a guilty thought popped into my head. It felt somehow wrong to accept his generosity without full disclosure.

  “I’m going with Trey.”

  There was a brief flash of pain, but he wiped it away just as quickly as it appeared. If it was anyone but me looking at him, they probably wouldn’t have even noticed. They also wouldn’t see through the almost-convincing fake smile he plastered on his face.

  “I don’t care. I’ll still give you the difference,” he assured me, then turned away and exited the room, stopping briefly to thank the attendant for letting him in.

  My heart ached as I removed the dress, feeling just as guilty now as I had when I admitted to sleeping with Trey. How much of my bullshit would it take before Brandon finally stopped looking at me and turned towards one of the many girls chasing after him?

  My pulse quickened as a fresh wave of jealousy made my stomach turn.

  I’m such a fucking hypocrite.

  Chapter 4

  February 2015

  Four days after quitting my job and holing up in my apartment with a few gallons of ice cream while trying to move past the panic-induced ‘what have I done?’ reaction, I finally felt stable enough to leave my private world and rejoin the real one.

  Besides, it was pretty overdue. I should have gone out on day one and started collecting job applications, but I desperately needed that short break to calm my frazzled emotions.

  But it was time to get real again. I got dressed and grabbed my purse, walking through the city while I grabbed the cheapest lunch possible and a number of job applications for a bunch of different stores. Slinging coffee really wasn’t my idea of a fabulous career, but I knew I stood a better chance of landing that job in a hurry more than a job at a doctor’s office or something more suited to my education.

  At this point, I’d gladly take whatever was offered to me. While I worked for the cash I needed to keep my bills paid, I’d also send in my resume to places I would better fit at. A responsible decision.

  I was actually so proud of myself for my reasonable choice that my first reaction was to call and tell my mom, until I remember her and Harold had just left for their extended vacation.

  Oh well, I’ll tell her later, I thought as I stepped back into my apartment building. I was at the staircase when I paused, remembering that I hadn’t even been down to check my mailbox in four days. I made my way for the boxes and opened the slot, shoving the stack of mail into my oversized purse before I started the trek up to the third floor.

  Once upstairs, I unloaded the all the job applications and newspapers I had gathered on my venture outside onto my kitchen table and started a fresh pot of coffee. As I waited for it to brew, I dug a pen out of my purse and dropped my mail onto the table along with the rest of the papers.

  I flipped through the stack of junk mail and bills while shaking my head, only stopping when something unusual caught my eye.

  It was indeed my name and address, only it was hand-written on the envelope. I never got handwritten letters from anyone with the exception of Christmas cards, which was months ago. My frowned deepened when I noticed the lack of a return address, until I flipped over the envelope and noticed the two initials written over the seal.

  BJ.

  Brandon Jensen was the only person I knew with those initials. It had to be him.

  Everything seemed to freeze all at once.

  * * *

  May 2004

  “So are you excited for prom?”

  I grinned at my mom as she leaned over the kitchen counter and shot me a sly smile, already well aware of the answer to that. I was still technically grounded, but the punishment would soon be lifted so I could have a good time at my senior prom.

  “Very,” I confirmed with a nod.

  My mom chuckled. “You seem more excited for tomorrow than you are for your graduation next week.”

  I shrugged a little and shifted my gaze to the glass of orange juice sitting on the counter in front of me.

  “Yeah, I kind of am. Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy to be getting out of high school but... I guess I’m not sure if I’m ready to go out into the real world just yet.”

  Brandon entered the kitchen and snorted. “Well, I can’t fucking wait.”

  “Language!” my mom gasped, both Brandon and I snickering at her outrage.

  “Well, of course you’re excited. You’re like a genius or something. You won’t have any problems finding a job or figuring out your place in the world,” I muttered, already starting to lose my focus as I thought about what I wanted to do with my life for the millionth time.

  “Have you picked a college yet, Brandon?”

  He shook his head. “I think I’m going to defer. Try my hand at launching a business on my own.”

  Mom frowned. “That’s not an easy thing to do, dear. I heard on the news that most small businesses fail within a year or something like that. Your father would remember the statistics, I’m not good with that stuff.”

  Brandon grinned. “Don’t worry about me, I have no plans of starting a small business. I’m thinking big.”

  I didn’t even have the desire to roll my eyes as he walked to the fridge and poured himself a glass of juice. While some people might find his personal brand of cockiness annoying, I thought it suited him well. His intellect was the only area that he ever showed any amount of confidence in, although I had noticed that he had recently started wearing tighter clothes as he continued to work on his body. The t-shirt he was wearing today was definitely a size or two smaller than the baggy ones he used to wear and it clung nicely to his chest and abdomen.

  Stop looking at your stepbrother’s body, Vanessa.

  I shook my head to clear the sound of my mother’s voice as it echoed in my head, scolding me for being so inappropriate.

  “You ready to go?”

  I looked up at Brandon’s expectant stare and nodded. I quickly swallowed the rest of my orange juice before grabbing my bag and heading for the door, waving good-bye to my mom before we headed out to the car.

  I was turning over the ignition when I said, “You know, you really should get your own car. Then you wouldn’t be forced to ride everywhere with me.”

  “I like riding with you, I don’t mind. Besides, I hate driving.”

  “Why?” I asked as I backed the car out of the driveway.

  Brandon shrugged. “No idea really. It’s just not my thing.”

  “Is it because you’re a massive control freak and being behind the wheel is a constant reminder of the fact that you can’t control other people’s driving?”

  He turned to me with a perplexed look. “Sounds about right. It’s a lot easier to ignore as a passenger. Have you ever considered going into psychology? I think you’d be good at it.”

  I shrugged and shook my head, not bothering to admit that I had only parroted what my grandfather told me when I asked why he didn’t drive.

  The rest of the ride to school was silent, even though I could just look at him and sense his desire to say something. But
when we pulled into the lot and he practically ran from the car, I realized that whatever it was probably wasn’t anything I wanted to hear.

  * * *

  Later that day, I stalked over to the table in the cafeteria where all the jocks sat together and ate lunch. Even though I had started dating one of their own, I still hadn’t really been accepted into the clique. But when I got grounded, I became even less out of the loop considering I had promised my mom I’d spend my lunch breaks in the library.

  “Where’s Trey?” I asked the group when I realized he wasn’t among them.

  “Hey, Vanessa,” Nathan, the quarterback of the team, said as he eyed me from head to toe. “I don’t know where Trey ran off to, but you’re more than welcome to take a seat here on my lap and wait for him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d rather not. You really don’t know where he is?”

  “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

  I was well beyond irritated at that point. “Well which is it? I need to talk to him about prom.”

  Nathan smiled as the rest of the people at the table lost interest in our conversation. He raised a crooked finger and beckoned me closer, raising all kinds of red flags in my head. Still, I leaned in a little closer to hear him.

  “Be honest with me. Would I have had a chance with you if you hadn’t gotten with Trey?”

  With a scoff, I backed away from him. I’d been at this school for four years and not once had Nathan shown even an ounce of interest in me. The guys here were all the same. They only wanted what they couldn’t have.

  “Nathan, just tell me where he is.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “No idea.”

  “You’re lying,” I hissed, leaning back down. “And no. You don’t have a chance with me. You never have.”

  “Fair enough,” he said with a shrug, then looked down at his watch. “I’d say your boyfriend is probably the same place he always is around this time. Shop class.”

  My eyebrows drew together in confusion. “Trey doesn’t have shop until fourth period.”

  “I know.”

  “So why—”

  I cut myself off, eyes widening with realization. I looked down at Nathan’s grin and the sickening truth was written all over his face. I didn’t want to believe it until I saw it with my own eyes, so I hoisted my bag higher on my shoulder and went rushing out of the cafeteria.

  Let it be bullshit. Let Nathan be lying. Please don’t tell me this is why everyone’s been snickering when I walk into rooms.

  When I pushed open the doors to the shop class and listened for noises, I knew it was true. I didn’t even have to do it, but I still walked further into the room until I finally locked eyes on Trey with his pants around his ankles as Gina, one of the cheerleaders, took him in her mouth.

  “I can’t fucking believe this.”

  Trey’s head jolted up and he looked at me in fear. Before he could speak, I was already continuing.

  “You chased after me for months. Then I finally agree to go out with you and I... I gave you my virginity! You asshole!”

  “Vanessa—”

  “Just don’t!” I shouted, backing away as Trey struggled to pull up his pants. “How long has this been going on?”

  He sighed in resignation. “I don’t know. Maybe a month?”

  “So the entire time we’ve been dating,” I confirmed with a nod, letting Gina run past me. “Why did you even bother to ask me out?”

  He lifted his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug and suddenly made sense.

  “You just wanted to be the first, didn’t you?” I asked, shocked that I hadn’t thought of it sooner. Then I remembered the girls in the locker room making bets on who would take Brandon’s virginity.

  “Did you.... Was this all part of a bet?”

  He looked guilty, which really said all I needed to know. But then he shook his head and scratched the back of his neck. “It was more of a pool than a bet.”

  “A pool?”

  “Yeah, for how long it’d take for you to.... you know.”

  I’m going to be sick.

  I started backing away, ignoring the sound of Trey calling my name as I ran for the restroom. Both my lunch and my breakfast came up as I crouched down in front of the toilet, tears streaming down my face.

  I had convinced myself that I was imagining all the snickers and looks of pity coming my way for the past few weeks, but now I realized they were real all along.

  Trey had been cheating on me the entire time. Our entire relationship was nothing more than a game… and everyone but me had known it.

  All I could think as I tugged my knees to my chest and sobbed was that Brandon would have never done something like this to me.

  * * *

  “Babe, please. Just listen to me.”

  “Leave me alone,” I muttered before ending the call and cutting him off mid-apology.

  I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling, wondering if Trey was currently standing in his tuxedo trying to explain to his parents why his girlfriend wouldn’t take his calls on prom night.

  One could only hope.

  With a sigh, I flopped back onto my stomach and buried my face into the pillow so I wouldn’t have to look at the beautiful dress I’d never have a chance to wear. It was hanging on the open door of my closet, just waiting to be pulled on.

  But I couldn’t show my face at prom. After my breakdown in the bathroom, word travelled fast that I found out about Trey’s cheating and the snickers became even more vicious. Like people thought it was funny that it took me so long to find out.

  There was no way I was going to willingly walk into the firing squad and watch while Trey flirted with the girl who I caught giving him head. As much as he seemed to want to apologize, I couldn’t bring myself to believe that he was being genuine.

  It was all a game. Every single part.

  I wasn’t stupid enough to think that I loved him. Not in the slightest. If anything, the one guy I thought I could love was Brandon, but it was pretty clear that I would never be able to have him. Not without the risk of severely upsetting our parents. Not to mention the social stigma that would follow us wherever we went.

  It might not being illegal to date your stepsibling, but it was pretty weird. Especially since Brandon and I had been steps since we were thirteen.

  There was a gentle knock at my door and I panicked, not having thought of a good excuse to tell my mom about why I had suddenly decided to stay home from prom.

  The knock sounded again and I hurriedly dried the remaining tears from my eyes and yelled, “Just a minute!”

  I nearly growled when the doorknob turned and the person outside pushed their way in until I realized it was Brandon. My anger deflated and I plopped back onto the bed, looking up at him tiredly.

  He was dressed in a suit that was obviously his father’s considering its loose fit and he was holding something in his hand. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a corsage box. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place and I was simultaneously touched and annoyed.

  “I’m not going there,” I said stubbornly.

  “We’re not going to prom,” he said as he pushed the box my way. “Just put on your dress and get ready or we’re going to be late.”

  “Late for what?” I asked, my annoyance forgotten in favor of curiosity.

  “You’ll see. Get dressed.”

  With that, he spun on his heel and left the room. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but I could admit that I really wanted to find out.

  Chapter 5

  May 2004

  “A limo?” I asked with raised eyebrows after we exited the house. “But you said—”

  “We’re not going to prom, I swear,” he said. “But you know I hate driving and I couldn’t ask you to drive without ruining the surprise.”

  He opened the door for me and I slid in, looking around with wonder at the decedent interior. It was the first time I’d ever been in a limousine and it definitely exc
eeded the few expectations I had. Brandon dropped into the seat beside me and I felt myself blush when our thighs rubbed together. I inched down the leather seat to put a more appropriate amount of distance between us. Brandon noticed, but didn’t call me out on it.

  Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “Champagne?”

  “We’re not old enough to drink,” I said with a sly smile.

  “True, but I have my ways,” he said as he reached into the fridge and pulled out the chilled bottle. “Dad bought one bottle for us. Don’t tell your mom.”

  I accepted the glass and took a sip, welcoming the way the alcohol and the bubbles tickled my throat. I drank the first glass rather quickly, hoping it would settle my nerves, then asked for a refill.

  Luckily, the bottle wasn’t large enough to get us both drunk. I was just barely buzzed when the limousine rolled to a stop and Brandon offered me his hand to assist me out of the car.

  When we stepped outside, I realized we were at a local restaurant known for its decadence, somewhere I’d never been able to afford to eat before. Brandon and I strolled inside together and were then led through the restaurant and out of the main dining area.

  Once we were left alone with assurance that a waiter would be by shortly, I turned to him with a dropped jaw.

  “You got us a private table? How in the hell did you manage to swing this?” I asked incredulously.

  Brandon shrugged. “I’m a saver, not a spender. You could’ve afforded this as well if you hadn’t spent every dime you got the moment it hit your palm.”

  I rolled my eyes and playfully slapped his chest before moving to take a seat at our table.

  “This was really nice of you.”

  He ducked his head and smiled down at the floor. “Honestly, I would have liked to take you to the ballet or something, but we don’t have anything like that around here. So I figured this would be the next best place to take you where you could wear the dress.”