Good Riddance, Stepbrother

We never stopped fighting throughout the first two years of living together. One day, however, Ethan suddenly changed.

Or rather, he started displaying a strange sense of “possessiveness” toward me.

One day, he sauntered into my calculus class as though he owned the place. He turned to the boy sitting next to me and said, “Hey. Swap places with me.”

Just like that, we become deskmates.

During recess, he stopped me at my locker.

“My dad said he’d buy me a car if I could score a GPA of 3.8 this semester,” he said in a low voice, as though tempting me. “If you help me, I’ll stop bothering your mom.”

It was a threat, not a request.

“Sure.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “But you gotta take it seriously. I won’t do your homework for you.”

He revealed his slow, sly smirk. “Deal, Miss Tutor.”

After that, we reached a new consensus. We would go to school, study after hours, and return home through the dark suburbs at night.

The more time we spent together, the more I had to remind myself: He was my stepbrother.

There were times when he would even skip basketball training just to slip out and meet me.

If I so much as frowned, he would give me that signature smirk and say in a hoarse, sweet voice, “Come on, Summer, have a heart. I won’t die by skipping training once.”

Each time, I would give in.

Once during class, my period came unexpectedly, staining my jeans red. I wanted to die from the embarrassment.

Ethan took off his baseball jacket, wrapped it around my waist, and left.

He came back fifteen minutes later with a box of tampons and a steaming hot cup of chocolate. His ears were redder than a ripe apple.

“Zach nearly passed out laughing when he saw me at the cashier,” Ethan muttered as he passed me the things. “You had better drink it all. Don’t make me embarrass myself for nothing.”

Zach Whitmore was Ethan’s rival, another rich young heir who was always vaping behind the gym.

Later that week, when I stayed back for cheerleading practice, Zach stopped me in the corridor.

There was nobody else around. He bent down and hooked my chin with his finger as though it was his natural right to do so. His voice was slick and taunting.

“Heh, I didn’t know Little Miss Tutor could dance so enchantingly.”

I stumbled back in shock. “I-I gotta go. Ethan’s waiting for me.”

He scoffed, his voice low and cruel. “Stop pretending. Everyone knows you’re not real siblings. You’re more like his lover… or his secret toy.”

Before I could say anything, a basketball slammed into the wall next to my head.

Ethan stood at the end of the corridor, covered in sweat and radiating a cold aura. “Get lost.”

Zach sniggered. “What a joke. Didn’t you call her a ho? Why are you suddenly saving the damsel like a knight in shining armor?”

“Get lost, Whitmore.” Ethan walked toward us until he was standing between Zach and me. He put his hand firmly on my waist. “She’s mine. Whether I protect or bully her is up to me.”

After Zach left, I stayed frozen on the spot. Ethan looked down at me with a smirk.

“What’s the matter? Scared stiff?”

The next second, his grin faded. His gaze on me became deep and dark.

“Has anyone told you…” he said softly, his voice filled with suppressed desire, “...that your eyes are tempting as a vixen’s?”