My Step Brother - A step brother romance

FOURTEEN YEARS OLD

IT'S TOO SOON. How can someone who claimed to be madly in love with another person, marry someone else only six months later? Not to mention, making that hellish boy a part of our family. He breathes fire and I swear his eyes change from brown to as black as coal when he's angry. He scares me, he really does.

Now, I'm supposed to live in this monstrosity of a mansion with him? I've got no idea what Mom is thinking. Sure, my new stepdad is loaded, but that's about all he is. His son is his spawn and these men are a different breed of human. They lack empathy and knowledge of personal space. Part of me thought my parents would be together forever. Even if I heard the arguments and the desperation for a better marriage in their voices. I'm starting to feel naive to think that happily ever afters exist. Then again, I'm only fourteen, so what do I know?

"Penelope," Mom hollers from down the long stretch of hallway. My door is cracked open just enough to let her words flow into the room.

"Coming," I yell back. I set my brush down on the new vanity that Richard, my soon-to-be stepdad, bought me. He

purchased everything in this room. Everything is brand new. Pink and white walls, matching bedding, and wall art. Nothing like the room I had back in Portland. I'd give it all up to be back there with Dad-to have my family whole again. My insides prick with pain at the realization that we will never go back to that happy place, because none of us are the same people we were back then.

They'll tell me it's not my fault. People fall out of love, blah, blah, blah. It doesn't make me feel any better, though.

One last look in the mirror, and I'm ready to go to the church where my mom will take a new last name, and I'll be the outcast in this family.

Just as I step away from the vanity, my door flies open. At first I expect to see Mom, but since it's not her, I backstepped, almost tripping over the stool behind me. "Go away!" I shout at Blaise. He stands there silent but rooted to the spot, like he just came in here to try and scare me again. He's got wide eyes and a blank expression. "I'm not scared of you," I tell him, hoping he doesn't see through the lie.

Slow, but heavy steps bring him in front of me. Face to face with my new brother. "You should be." He smiles devilishly. There's something so dark about this boy.

"Why aren't you dressed for the wedding?" I ask, gripping the sides of my peach-colored dress. Mom picked it out to match all the other girls in the wedding. She said I'm too old to be a flower girl, but the perfect age to be a junior bridesmaid. Blaise and I are set to walk together, since we're the same age. I begged Mom not to make me, but she brushed away my pleas and told me to suck it up.

"Because I don't want to. And I only do what I want."

I swear, the devil lives inside of Blaise. My body shivers every time I'm near him. He even visits me in my dreams and turns them into the worst nightmares. One night, I woke up to a loud bang in my room, and I swear he was in there watching me sleep. Another time, he lit my math textbook on fire because he didn't like that I was in the same class as him and his friends. Just grinned at me, opened it up, and took the flame of a lighter to it. Then he laughed. Who does that?

I turn on my white heels to walk away, but Blaise grabs my arm. "Let me go." I try to jerk away, but it does no good. He grabs a fistful of my perfectly curled hair and pulls. When I go to scream, he slaps a hand over my mouth.

"If you don't stop this wedding, you'll live to regret it. I don't want a stupid sister."

With the little space between his hand and my mouth, I open, then push forward and bite down on the skin of his thumb.

Blaise screeches, then shoves me aside like a ragdoll. I trip over the stool of my vanity and fall on the floor, bumping my head on the footboard of my new bed on the way down.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Blaise threatens before walking out.

I'm left lying there with a gash on my head that's sure to leave a scar and a small rip in the side of my new dress. Tears stream down my cheeks as I push myself to the floor.