My first crush (COMPLETED)√

PART 2: Chapter 76: Playing by her rules

Sharon's POV

The moment we got home, I headed straight for the bathroom. My body ached from the long day, exhaustion clinging to my limbs, but tonight wasn't optional — dinner had been promised.

Warm steam soon filled the small space, fogging the mirror and softening the harsh edges of my thoughts. As the water cascaded over my skin, I tried to relax — but my mind refused to stay quiet.

Patricia.

I really hoped she had changed, like her father claimed. Because I wasn't prepared for another war of glances and veiled insults... or worse. The idea alone made irritation coil in my chest.

Ugh. I wish she wasn't my sister.
Why is the universe so cruel?

I exhaled, forcing the thoughts away, and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around myself, I dried my hair, chose a dress carefully, and applied light makeup — nothing dramatic, just enough to feel composed. By the time I finished, Stephen had already been ready for ages.

"Sharon," he groaned from the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame. "You don't need all that. You're pretty without makeup. You're going to take forever."

"What do you know about makeup?" I shot back, packing my cosmetics away. "Besides, I barely did anything. Look — I'm done. Let's go."

He smirked. "Trust me, I know a lot. I stole my mom's makeup when I was five and redesigned my face. Looked like a monster. So I'm basically an expert."

"Are you serious?" I laughed, tapping his back as he reached for the door.

"Completely."

⸻

We arrived at my father's house just as dusk painted the sky in amber and violet streaks. The porch lights glowed warmly, welcoming.

"Sharon, you came!" My dad greeted me with a tight hug that smelled faintly of aftershave and familiarity.

He shook Stephen's hand next.
"Thanks for coming."

"My pleasure, sir."

Inside, Patricia sat at the dining table, elegant as ever — posture perfect, attention on her phone. Her outfit looked effortless and polished... which explained why I'd agonized over my own choice earlier.

She glanced up, eyes lighting — though whether with sincerity or performance, I couldn't tell.

"Oh, Stephen! I missed you!"
She crossed the room and hugged him before I could react.

My jaw tightened.
Seriously? Right in front of me?

She flashed me a knowing smile, and I forced my expression neutral, swallowing the irritation burning behind my ribs.

"Sharon, how could I forget you?" she added, giving me a brief hug before stepping back.

"Let's eat," Peter announced, taking his seat.

I moved toward the chair beside Stephen — only for Patricia to slide into it first.

"Sorry, Sharon. I love this spot."

"Come sit by me," my dad offered gently.

Stephen's subtle glance reassured me, but I was simmering nonetheless.

After grace was said, we began eating.

"So, Sharon," Patricia said sweetly, "how are you doing? I heard from Stiles you weren't feeling well."

I nearly choked.
She meant heartbreak. Of course she did.

Peter frowned with concern. "Is that true?"

"It wasn't serious," I replied calmly, meeting her gaze. "I'm fine now."

I turned the conversation elsewhere.
"Can I ask something?"

"Go ahead."

"What about your mom?" I asked Patricia.

"She's gone," she said simply, continuing her meal.

My chest tightened. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"She passed when I was five — cancer. I've moved forward. Dad's happy, I'm happy... and we even gained a bonus addition." She gestured toward me.

"Oh, stop being dramatic," I teased lightly.

My dad smiled warmly. "I'm glad you're here, Sharon. How are your studies?"

The conversation shifted — safe, polite, normal.

⸻

Patricia's POV

Please.
As if I actually cared.

This act was for Dad... and maybe for Stephen.

Speaking of which...

I leaned slightly closer to him, my movements subtle beneath the table — deliberate, calculated, my hands finding it's way to his manly roots. My hands moved around it; still soft, until it got hard fast to my non-stop movements. I have to say, I still know my way around him. His posture stiffened instantly, eyes snapping toward mine with warning. He brushed my hand away, but I only smiled faintly and continued my meal as though nothing had happened.

His discomfort was clear.
And satisfying.

⸻

Stephen's POV

"What—" I nearly choked on my food, forcing myself to stay composed.

"Are you alright?" Sharon asked.

"Fine," I said quickly. "Bit my tongue."

She nodded, returning to her plate.

I excused myself moments later, retreating down the hallway, pulse racing. The quiet of the room felt like sanctuary.

"What the hell was that..." I muttered under my breath, trying to steady myself.

⸻

Back in the dining room, Patricia rose smoothly.

"Sharon, want to see some family photos?"

"I'd love to."

"I'll grab them — might take a moment."

She disappeared down the hall... not toward the photo shelves, but toward Stephen's room.

⸻

She slipped inside, locking the door behind her.

Stephen turned sharply. "What are you doing?"

She only smiled, removing her composure piece by piece — confident, deliberate.

"In your room?" he pressed, stunned.

"I missed you."

"That's not happening. Get dressed."

She paused, expression shifting, voice cool.
"Then I suppose I'll go tell Sharon I've been carrying your child for weeks — and you never told her."

His breath caught.
"Wait."

The word left him strained.

"What do you want?" he asked quietly, frustration and guilt weighing on him.

She stepped closer, satisfaction glinting in her eyes.

"You."