My Stepbrother secret-possession

Game Of Faces

Standing amidst the school library shelves, I let the natural exhilaration of classic books take over every fibre of my being. Focusing my attention on book covers, I run my fingertips over "Little Women" and "Wuthering Heights." I'm not sure if it's just me, but my mood easily changes when I gaze at books.

Instantly, the urge to go book shopping arises. Modern novels will serve, especially since I have space for extra books on my bedroom bookshelf. Most of my current collection consists of old British novels.

"Great books. If you're indecisive, I think you should start with 'Wuthering Heights,' then move on to 'Little Women'," a familiar voice suggests.

Knowing it's Leigh, I don't even flinch. I continue pretending to be engrossed in the books as I reply, "I've read them."

"Your mum wasn't kidding when she said you're a bookworm," he remarks playfully. Even without looking at him, I can tell he's smiling.

I steal a glance at him. He's wearing a simple white shirt and slightly skinny blue jeans. His boots shine as if I didn't vomit on them last night. And his perfectly styled hair remains the same. Standing opposite me, he wears the smile I've grown accustomed to. His scent fills the air, making me uneasy. I glance at him from the corner of my eye and continue perusing the books beside me.

I'll take any opportunity to avoid looking him in the eyes. Even this morning, despite being hungover, I woke up to realize that Leigh has an effect on me that I can't quite figure out yet. Swallowing aspirin and opting for coffee, memories of last night replayed in my head. In the kitchen, the realization hit me, and I knew I had made a terrible mistake. I allowed myself to be influenced by my mother's fiancé's son.

I kissed Leigh. I kissed Leigh. But then again, he didn't stop me. He went along and kissed me back. He was sober and fully aware of everything. Why didn't he stop me? Why didn't he pull back? He kissed me back as if it were acceptable. Just the thought makes me feel sick. What have I done?

"Hey, how are you feeling?" he asks when I don't respond.

"I've taken aspirin. I guess I'm good, thank you," I murmur.

I'm not only thanking him for asking about my well-being. I'm also grateful for him sneaking me into the house last night without my mum and Christian knowing. For tucking me into bed and making me tea when I needed it most, including now, as he holds the same flask. I don't say all of this because I want him to believe I'm oblivious to what happened last night.

When I steal a glance at him, his eyes are fixed on the flask in his hand. "Ava, about last night..." he starts, but I immediately interrupt.

"I know it was a bad idea to play a drinking game, but it all happened so quickly that I can't even remember anything apart from the beginning of the game," I lie. I can't bring myself to look at him directly because I know if I do, he'll see the truth in my eyes. I'm not a good liar, and I'm not accustomed to lying at all. But here I am, trying to convince my slightly nervous, pseudo-brother that I have absolutely no memory of what I did last night.

"You don't remember anything?" His tone is filled with surprise. I'm sure his eyebrows must be furrowing, but with my head down, I decide to keep it this way.

"Yes," I whisper and take a sharp breath. "Is that my tea?" Using the sudden silence, I change the subject, this time lifting my eyes to meet his. I muster every ounce of self-esteem I have to wear a mask that conceals my true face and emotions, smiling at Leigh as if nothing happened. As if I don't feel like kissing his captivating lips right now.

He's momentarily confused before the realization dawns on him, and his gaze lowers to his hands. Hesitantly, he holds out the flask to me. "Yes, I think you'll need it for the day," he says, smiling faintly and nodding.