Dimitri's POV
I was in my room, surrounded by chaos on my bed. Mom walked in, looking around and raising an eyebrow.
"Almost done in here?" she asked, a playful smile on her face.
"Not at all," I replied, glancing down at my bed, covered in clothes, books, games, and shoes. She chuckled.
"Well, you better be done before we come back from Stella's recital."
"Whatever," I mumbled, trying not to roll my eyes.
As mom headed to the door, Jackson called out for her from the hallway. She turned back, "What is it, Jackson?"
"Can I prepare for my friend's party with him?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Mom crossed her arms, giving him a stern look. "Will there be alcohol?"
Jackson grinned with an Oscar-winning smile. "Of course not, Mom. I can't believe you don't trust me, your own son. It's despicable."
She shook her head, laughing. "Go," she said, flicking her wrist dismissively.
Jackson didn't need to be told twice; he ran down the stairs, his cargo boots rattling the staircase.
"Are you seriously just going to let him do whatever he wants?" I asked.
"You're telling me you've never been to a party with alcohol?" she countered, a knowing smirk on her face.
"Ok, this is not about me, we're talking about Jackson right now." I said deflecting
"Mmmhmm. I'm going to go check if Stella is ready, and you better finish in time," she said, ruffling my hair, then walked out of the room. I sighed and started to fix my hair, looking in the mirror.
___
8:00 pm
Zane and Yasmine's engagement party was today, and we were running late. Surprisingly, we were all invited, especially Stella. I was surprised, and so was she. Apparently, according to Zane, Yasmine thought Stella was really pretty and would add to the aesthetic she was going for. But either way, I didn't mind. On the other hand, Stella took some convincing—not from me, though. Surprisingly, Jackson convinced her to go. I could be speculating, but I think he just wanted to make fun of people with her while they're there.
I walked out of my room and into Stella's, checking if she was ready. I entered her bathroom, seeing the light was on. "You done?" I asked.
She looked back at me while putting on the backing of her earring. "Obviously not," she said with a straight face, gesturing to her attire that consisted of sweatpants and an oversized black shirt.
"Is that mine?" I asked.
"Does it really matter?" I thought it over, and she was right; it didn't. When she walked past me, I got a whiff of her sweet vanilla scent. I don't know if it's something she put in her hair or on her skin, but it was heavenly. She started to strip, taking off my shirt, throwing it onto her bed, and doing the same with her sweatpants. Then she walked over to her closet, picking out a neon blue dress. She slipped it on, taking another look at her hair in her full-body mirror and fluffing out the curls.
YOU ARE READING
Forced Siblings
RomanceStella was shipped off to a boarding school for troubled kids after her foster parents died. For the next seven years, that is where she's been, but she's back, and things are not the same as they were before.