My...Stepbrother? [boyxboy]

My...Stepbrother? {11}

                “So, I have to tell my mom and Trace, huh?”

                “Only if you want to have an open relationship. You don’t have to do anything. Well, except for give me piggy back rides.”

                Zeke laughed, but I could see how nervous he was. We were sitting in his room together on his bed. He had his arm around me and I had my head on his shoulder comfortably.

                “I’m worried more about Trace than my mom. My mom may seem like a complete bitch, but she’s not homophobic at all. I think she’ll accept me fairly easily. Trace? Not so much. And he’s my best friend. I know he’s an ass, but I really don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t accept me,” he said miserably.

                I took Zeke’s hand in my own and kissed his cheek. “Hey, come on! If he’s really you’re best friend, he’ll accept you no matter what,” I assured him.

                He smiled softly and swung around to kiss me on the lips. He got up and I copied him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair nervously.         

                “You should leave. I’m going to tell my mom, and I kind of want to do it alone. No offense; it’s just something I have to do.”

                I nodded in understanding. I had wanted to be alone when I told my mom, too. Though I had been positive my mom was going to accept me when I told her. She loved me too much not to.

                I kissed Zeke deeply before hugging him. “Good luck,” I whispered and he hugged me back. “Thanks Kory. I’ll call you tonight and let you know how everything went. I won’t tell Trace until tomorrow. I…I want to tell him alone too,” he whispered.

                I nodded and kissed him again before waving and leaving his house. I sighed and made my way back home, hoping everything went well for Zeke. Poor guy.

                I blushed when I saw Trace in the front yard. He had set up cones and was dribbling through them, practicing his dribbling and speed skills. His shirt was off and sweat was on his body, turning me on for some reason.

                I looked away quickly before I had mini me popping up to say hello. What an awkward moment that would be to have to go through with my homophobic stepbrother.

                I made my way up the driveway, hoping Trace wouldn’t talk to me. He looked so, so sexy right now. ZEKE. Think Zeke, Kory. He was your boyfriend. Not Trace. Trace was your stepbrother. Get that straight in your head, mister!

                “Kory!”

                DAMN.

                I winced and spun to face Trace as he panted and picked up the soccer ball. He rolled it to me and began to pick up the cones in the yard.

                “Put that in the garage and hand me my shirt,” he growled.

                I tossed the soccer ball in the garage and grabbed Trace’s shirt off the front porch. I walked over to him and tried not to blush as I handed it to him. He wiped his forehead with it and shoved past me.

                I pouted and followed him through the garage into the house after he set the cones down. Trace grabbed a glass out of the kitchen and glanced at me.

                “Want a drink?” he asked, his voice emotionless.

                I shrugged and nodded. He grabbed another glass and handed it to me before pouring both of us lemonade. We drank in an awkward silence.