Step Too Far Ch 01

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All the characters in this story are 18 and older. This is a story that follows a pair of

STEP-SIBLINGS.

They are not biologically related. I'm sorry if this isn't what you are looking for. I know many readers prefer stories with characters who are actually related, but I believe a story with stepsiblings can be just as compelling and just as forbidden. To all those who read this, I hope you enjoy.

The final bell rang with a shrill echo that bounced off the tile floors and lockers, releasing a tide of bodies into the hall. Backpacks zipped, sneakers squeaked, and voices rose in a chaotic chorus of teenage relief, ready to enjoy the weekend. Violet Sinclair stayed in her seat. She didn't like the stampede. She usually waited for the room to empty-until there was only faint chatter and the distant squeal of a teacher's chair dragging across linoleum. Then, slowly, she would gather her things. Textbooks, notebooks, and the capped pen she always used and never let anyone borrow.

She slid them into her worn canvas bag and walked out with careful steps, keeping her eyes low. The noise was still there- the kind that buzzed in your skull and made it hard to think-but she'd learned to make herself small in it. Unnoticeable. Invisible. Other girls brushed past her with laughter trailing behind them like lingering notes of perfume. Boys joked way too loud and slammed lockers with a kind of careless confidence she couldn't fathom. Violet tightened the strap of her bag across her chest and kept moving.

She reached her locker and spun the dial with practiced fingers. The metal creaked open, and she placed her non-needed school supplies on the shelf before retrieving her clarinet case.

"Boo!"

Violet jumped, nearly dropping all her stuff. Bri giggled and leaned her shoulder against the locker next to hers. "You're so easy to scare. It's adorable."

"You're awful," Violet muttered. She recovered her balance and closed her locker a little harder than necessary. Bri didn't even flinch. She never did. With her high ponytail, winged eyeliner, and sparkly phone case clutched in one hand, Bri was sunshine bottled into a five-foot-three body. She was the kind of girl who actually liked high school. But she never treated Violet like a shadow. She was a genuine friend.

"Ugh," Bri whispered suddenly, eyes flicking down the hallway. "Speaking of awful... incoming golden couple."

Violet followed her gaze--and immediately wished she hadn't.

Noah was walking toward them, with Amanda attached to his hand like a designer handbag.

Noah was her brother. Not by blood, not even by history really. Their parents had married when they were both freshmen. Violet barely remembered the ceremony. She remembered the awkward photos, though--how tall he looked beside her in his suit, how much space had seemed to exist between them, even when they stood side by side. He was taller now. Taller and broader, his shoulders filling out his varsity jacket quite nicely. His wavy, dark brown hair was tousled just enough to look effortless. He was laughing at something Amanda said, his dimples flashing. Amanda leaned into his arm, her long legs swaying beneath a pleated skirt that was most definitely against the dress code. She saw Violet and smiled. Not a real smile, but a cocky one.

Violet stiffened, feeling herself shrink under Amanda's gaze.

"Oh my God," Bri said under her breath, watching the pair pass. "I know he's your stepbrother and everything, but he's hot."

Violet shot her a look. "Ew."

"Don't ew me. You're not blind."

"I live in the same house. Trust me, he's not that hot when he leaves his sweaty gym socks on the bathroom floor or leaves the damn toilet seat up."

Bri snorted. "Fair." They turned away, and Violet clutched her clarinet case tighter, resuming the quiet shuffle toward the band room. "You coming to the mall with me later?" Bri asked as she looped her arm through Violet's while they walked. "There's a bookstore in there now. You'd love it. Smells like old pages and espresso."

"Malls aren't really my thing," Violet said.

Bri raised a brow. "Amanda thing?"

Violet didn't answer. She remembered middle school- Amanda's lip gloss smirk, the sharp way she'd mocked Violet's glasses, the time she'd knocked her books out of her arms to laugh at the way she scrambled, and worse of all, the rumor Amanda had spread around the school, telling everyone she kissed her cousin during a family barbeque. Noah hadn't been around back then. But Amanda had always been there, like a thorn. One she couldn't pull out.

"Violet," Bri said softly. "You gotta get out more. You do school. You do band. You do yearbook. And then you vanish. When's the last time you had fun?"

Violet blinked. "Band is fun."

Bri rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know," Violet whispered.

They reached the door to the band room, and the sounds of instruments hummed faintly behind the closed door. Bri turned and hugged her. "You're gonna be a lonely old librarian one day if you keep this up."

"That honestly sounds peaceful."

"No, that sounds tragic."

Violet smiled, but only a little. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Someone has to." Then Bri winked, stepped away, and vanished out the door to head to cheerleading practice. Violet stood in front of the band room door for a long second before walking in, hugging her clarinet case like armor. The band room was its own kind of chaos--metallic clinks, mouthpiece buzzing, chairs screeching against the linoleum floor, and the scent of polished brass combined with freshly printed sheet music. Violet weaved through the rows of chairs and music stands, finding her usual spot in the middle-right of the clarinet section next to Simon.

He smiled the second he saw her, a little too eagerly. "Hey, Violet."

"Hi, Simon," Violet replied, offering a smile back. Simon was tall in a lanky, unfinished way, with soft brown eyes that always looked like they wanted to say more than they did. His hair was too long for his face, and his polo shirt never sat quite right on his shoulders, but his smile was genuine, and he had a way of making the awkward feel comfortable. They sat down together, pulling their clarinet cases open in tandem. Violet liked this part. The familiar clicks and snaps of assembling her instrument, the smooth feel of the reed, and the faint wood scent that lingered from its case. It gave her something to do with her hands. Something to focus on rather than her own awkwardness.

Simon turned slightly toward her, fitting his barrel joint into place. "So... homecoming parade coming up."

"Mm-hmm."

"Think we'll survive it this year without someone tripping over a bass drum?"

Violet's lips twitched. "Doubtful."

He grinned. "We live dangerously in the woodwinds."

"Uh-huh," Mrs. Lemieux said with a smirk. "Page one, folks. Let's go from the top." As the room was filled with warm-up chords and tentative scales, Violet let her fingers move over the keys without thinking. She didn't notice the way Simon watched her play sometimes when she wasn't looking. She never saw when Simon always smiled when she laughed, or how he always shifted slightly closer to her so their elbows would touch.

To Violet, it was just band.

To Simon, it was the best part of his day.

Time zipped by, and before Violet knew it, practice was wrapped up with a clatter of cases and a chorus of zipping bags. She slipped her clarinet back into its velvet-lined case, and around her, the room buzzed with plans for group dinners, jokes about the drummers, someone loudly asking if the trumpet section had even practiced.

Simon lingered beside her, leaning on his knee as he latched his own case shut. "You need a ride?" he asked casually, the same way he always did after rehearsal.

Violet smiled faintly, already fishing her phone from her hoodie pocket. "No, my dad is comi-"

She stopped mid-sentence; her eyes locked on her screen as she read a text sent to her while she was practicing.

Dad:

Hey sweetheart. Got pulled into a late meeting. I messaged Noah to drive you home. Sorry--text me when you're back safe.

Her stomach sank as she stared at the message for a second too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard. She could message Noah, tell him not to worry. Simon could take her. That wouldn't be weird... right?

Before she could decide, another message buzzed through.

Noah:

Practice ended early. I'm out front by the lot. Meet me at the car.

Violet sighed and slid her phone back into her pocket. "I've got a ride," she said, standing up and adjusting her bag.

Simon nodded, trying to hide his disappointment, hoping this time her answer would be different. "Cool, cool. Just checking." They walked down the hall together toward her locker, the building quieter now with most students long gone. Their footsteps echoed in the mostly empty corridor.

"So..." Simon ventured, "If you're not going to homecoming, what are your plans?"

Violet shrugged. "Probably just get some writing done."

Simon grinned. "Still working on the book?"

"Mhm."

"What's it about again? Still the girl with the violin and the... cursed ghost brother?"

Violet's lips curved. "She's a cellist now. But yeah. It's getting darker."

He bumped her arm with his lightly. "You always write dark stuff. I think you like torturing your characters."

"I think they deserve it."

"Remind me never to make you mad."

They reached her locker, and Violet swapped out her music folder, zipped up her hoodie, and closed the door with a soft clunk. The school doors loomed ahead, and the orange tint of a sinking sun spilled through the glass. As they stepped outside, the air was thick with the end-of-day warmth, despite it being October. The slight breeze felt nice against Violet's skin.

Noah's car sat near the edge of the lot. He was leaning against the driver's side door, tossing his keys in one hand. Amanda was beside him, half sitting on the hood in her short cheer skirt, phone in hand.

Simon hesitated as they approached, his brows pulling together slightly. "Wait, your dad's not picking you up?"

Violet shook her head. "Working late. He asked Noah to drive me."

Simon gave a small, unreadable nod. At the edge of the lot, he slowed. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Thanks for... walking with me."

He smiled again, soft and genuine. "Always." They hugged briefly, then he turned and headed for the row of cars, his backpack bouncing against his spine. Violet crossed the last stretch of pavement alone.

Amanda looked up as she approached and gave her a syrupy smile. "Aww, does baby Violet need her big brother to play chauffeur again?"

Violet said nothing, eyes on the gravel. "Amanda," Noah said flatly, not even looking at her. "Be nice." Amanda rolled her eyes as she slid off the hood to walk to the car's passenger side. Noah opened his door and pulled the front seat forward, clearing a path for Violet to climb in. Violet ducked inside, heart tapping like a metronome set just a little too fast. The car was quiet at first, filled only with the low hum of the engine and the soft thud of music pulsing from the radio. Violet sat in the back seat, her backpack tucked close to her hip, and her arms wrapped loosely around it like a shield.

Amanda was in the front, tan thighs pressed together, her manicured fingers scrolling through her social media app on her phone. Her perfume--sweet and sharp--curled through the air like smoke. She glanced up briefly at the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Violet. Violet noticed and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She never understood what she did to make Amanda hate her so much, to make her want to make Violet's life a living hell. Dating her stepbrother was just the nail in the coffin.

Noah drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the console. His window was cracked, letting in the warm wind. The late afternoon sun sliced through the windshield and painted his arm gold. Violet's eyes drifted to that arm. It was stupid. So stupid. But she looked.

His forearm was tan and dusted with a light trail of hair. The muscles shifted subtly each time he turned the wheel, and one long vein curved up from his wrist, pulsing faintly beneath the skin. His fingers were long and strong, the kind that made throwing a football look effortless. She remembered watching him once toss a baseball into the backyard net over and over for an hour, shirt off, sweat gleaming down his spine.

She shouldn't be thinking about that. She shouldn't be looking at him like this. She forced her eyes to the window, watching the fall-colored trees blur together, counting even-numbered mailboxes--anything to distract her.

"You hungry?" Amanda's voice cut through the silence.

Violet blinked as her head turned to the question. Noah glanced toward Amanda. "Yeah, kinda. You want something?"

"I'm starving," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder like a reflex. "Let's stop at that burger place near your house."

"Violet," Noah said suddenly, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, "You hungry?" The question made her heart stutter. Her lips parted to respond.

"I don't want her to come," Amanda said before Violet could answer. The words hit the air like a slap.

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice going cool. "Amanda."

"What?" Amanda huffed, turning toward Violet with an exasperated sigh. "I mean... she can come, I guess. If she wants."

She said it like Violet was a puppy... or more so, dead weight.

Violet's fingers dug into the fabric of her backpack, her cheeks beginning to feel hot.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "You can just drop me off."

"You sure?" Noah asked, brow creasing as he looked at her in the mirror again.

"Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm just gonna work on some stuff tonight anyway."

Amanda didn't say anything else. Just turned her head back to her phone. When the car turned into the driveway to their house, Noah shifted into park, then opened his car door to step out, pulling his seat out to release Violet from this 20-minute drive that felt more like a punishment. Violet stepped out, almost losing her balance as her foot caught on the seat belt. She heard Amanda snicker as she straightened herself, a shaky breath escaping her lips. She felt tears begin to swell and rapidly blinked them away. She would not give Amanda something else to mock her for.

"You ok?" Noah asked, his hand grabbing her arm to help steady her. Violet pulled away from him and slid the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said a little more harshly than she meant, but honestly... right now she didn't care. She turned and walked away, slamming the front door shut behind her. She stood there, listening for footsteps, voices, anything to warn her that she wasn't alone. She heard nothing except Noah's car pulling out of the driveway, then the faint hum of the engine heading back down the street. Then, only then, did she allow the tears to fall. She sobbed softly, her hands curling into fists by her waist.

The tears kept coming, hot and fast, slipping down her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She hated this. Amanda's smirk, how easily Noah always ignored it, and how she never had the courage to stand up for herself. But most of all... she hated how her body reacted to the way Noah's fingers had brushed her arm. It was barely a touch, more of a reflex - a meaningless gesture. But it lit something inside her that she didn't know what to do with. A spark she tried so hard to smother multiple times before.

She hated the warmth that bloomed in her chest the few times he actually looked at her, or his voice, when softened, could still make her actually feel noticed. Now, she mentally punched herself for how part of her had wanted to stay in that car just a little longer, to be in his space, even with Amanda sitting there.

Because the truth was ugly and simple... she wanted her stepbrother.

Even when she shouldn't, even when she knew better.

She wiped at her cheeks roughly, the sleeve of her hoodie soaking up the worst of it. Then she pushed herself off the door and slowly made her way up the stairs, her limbs heavy, her chest sore with everything she'd swallowed on that ride home. In her room, she didn't bother turning on the light. She dropped her bag by the door and crawled into bed fully dressed, kicking off her Converse and pulling her blanket up over her waist. She picked up her laptop from her nightstand, the light from the screen glowing soft and bluish against her face, flickering faintly as the cursor blinked at the end of a sentence she hadn't finished from her current chapter. She rested her chin on her hand, trying to summon the next line--but her thoughts had drifted again. Somewhere back to the car. To Amanda's voice. To Noah's fingers on the steering wheel.

Time passed, and a knock at the door pulled her back.

"Yeah?" she called softly, straightening up.

The door opened just enough to let her father's head peek in. His tie was loosened, his eyes tired, and his hair slightly rumpled like he'd run his hands through it a dozen times.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi, Dad," she said warmly as she forced a small smile.

He stepped into the room and closed the door halfway behind him. "Sorry for the short notice today. I thought I'd be done by four, but something came up with a client."

"It's okay," Violet said, already knowing it wasn't really his fault. She lowered the screen of her laptop, placing it aside momentarily, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Noah gave me a ride home." Her heart felt like it skipped a beat after saying his name out loud.

Her dad nodded, easing down onto the edge of her bed. "Good. I figured it made sense since he was still there for football."

Violet hesitated. The room fell quiet, the sound of a car passing outside faint beneath the window. Her father frowned slightly, watching her. "You... don't like riding with him?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, he added, "It's Amanda, isn't it?" Violet's stomach tightened, and her eyes lowered, staring at the muted pattern on her comforter. Her dad sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "I don't get it. She's always been awful to you. I don't know what Noah sees in that girl."

"Dad," Violet said quickly, "please drop it. He's allowed to date who he wants."

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. But his voice softened. "I can talk to him, you know. Ask him not to have her in the car when he picks you up. You shouldn't have to sit there and--"

"It's fine," she interrupted, though it came out too fast. She cleared her throat. "If it's that big a deal, I'll just get a ride with Bri or Simon. Or I'll take the bus when I don't have band or yearbook."

Her father didn't look convinced, but he gave a small smile anyway. "Okay. I just want you to be comfortable."

"I know."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Have you eaten anything?" Violet blinked. For a moment, she was about to say yes. But then her stomach gave a faint, embarrassing twist to remind her that no, she hadn't. Before she could respond, she heard the front door open downstairs.

"Hey, Mom," Noah called from the hallway below. Violet tensed without meaning to. She looked at her dad. "I'm not hungry." He studied her for a beat, not really buying what she said, but also not wanting to push.

"All right," he said gently, standing. "If you change your mind, there's leftover pasta in the fridge."

"Thanks."

He paused in the doorway, then gave her a tired little smile and pulled the door shut behind him.

Violet let out a breath. She was alone once again with her partly closed laptop, the muffled sounds of voices downstairs, and a strange, unspoken heaviness she didn't know how to name. She placed her laptop back onto her lap, opening it fully, then pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and began typing.