*
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.*
Violet woke slowly, unwillingly. Her eyes were crusted from sleep, and her mouth was as dry as cotton. The air felt too warm, and her head pulsed with a dull ache that made her temples throb. She groaned as she rolled onto her back, blinking at the ceiling like it might offer some clarity. The hangover was light, but insistent, like her body wanted to punish her just enough to remind her what she did. The wine...the movie...Noah.
Nausea rose in her throat as images came in flashes--his mouth on hers, the weight of him between her legs, the way his voice sounded when he whispered her name like it was a secret. She clutched her blanket tighter, as if she could wrap herself in denial and shame and erase it all. But she couldn't, because Noah had kissed her, and she had kissed him back, and what's worse...is that she had wanted to. She sat up slowly and pushed her comforter down to her lap. Her shirt was wrinkled and loose at the shoulder, exposing her collarbone. She pulled it back up with shaking fingers and stared at her bedroom door, her heart beating violently at the anticipation of what possibly waited for her on the other side.
She got up quietly and felt the cold hardwood under her feet. Her head swam a little as she crossed the room, stumbling slightly as she opened her door just enough to peek into the hallway. Noah's door was shut, and that told her everything. It was always open when he was gone, wide or cracked, never closed. The only times it remained closed were when he was asleep or didn't want to be disturbed. She tiptoed past it, holding her breath as if taking in oxygen would somehow give her away, and walked into the bathroom.
Inside, she flicked on the light and squinted against it. The mirror greeted her with the same familiar girl. But something was off. Her hair was a mess, matted a little on the back. Her shirt looked like she had been pulling at it in her sleep. Her lips looked fuller somehow, and there was a dried cut on her bottom lip from when she bit it. She leaned in and studied herself further. Same eyes. Same face. Yet, something was still different.
Her fingers ran over her lips, remembering the fire she felt when Noah's lips were on them. She closed her eyes, trying to breathe past it, trying to pull herself back into her body. She wasn't the kind of girl who did things like this. She wasn't bold or reckless or seductive, and she certainly wasn't the type to think it was ok to do anything with a taken man...especially a taken man that was her stepbrother. Violet was quiet, bookish...safe. But that version of her felt blurry now, and she didn't know what to do with the girl in the mirror who had moaned for her stepbrother under a blanket just hours ago.
What's wrong with me?
She opened her eyes, forced her hands to the sink, and turned on the water. As she splashed cool water on her face, one thought cut through the rest like a knife.
I don't want it to stop.
Violet brushed her teeth, then eased the bathroom door open to peer down the hall. Noah's door was still closed, which made her let out a quiet sigh of relief. She wasn't ready to face him yet, to face her guilt, or her desire. She padded back into her room, grabbed her phone off the nightstand, and tiptoed down the stairs, each creak of the wood feeling louder than the last. The kitchen felt colder somehow--like the house knew what she'd done. She opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap with trembling fingers before she pulled out a chair from the kitchen table to sit.
Her phone lit up as she checked it, and her eyes widened as she re-read the message she forgot was sent to her last night.
Bri - 11:24 PM (last night)
How's movie night with QB1? Still awake or already nerding out over time travel trivia?
Violet stared at the message, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. Her heart beat a little faster, and she swallowed, the act reminding her just how dry her throat was. She gulped her water like she was a traveler lost in the desert, only stopping to breathe. Then, she started typing.
Violet:
Can you come pick me up?
When she hit send and watched the message go through, a tight feeling twisted in her stomach. She couldn't be here. She couldn't handle being in the same house as him, breathing in the same air, having him possibly look at her and avoid her, making her feel even worse.
A minute passed, then another. No response. She flicked back to her home screen and refreshed her notifications. Nothing. Violet nervously tapped her foot as she tapped to call Bri. It rang once, then straight to voicemail.
Fuck.
She hung up quickly, her fingers trembling now. She glanced toward the stairs, toward the hallway that led to Noah's room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
She hit call again, and this time it rang twice. A groggy voice finally answered. "Violet?" Bri slurred, still sounding half asleep. "It's Saturday. Why are you calling me before noon?"
Violet flew up from her chair, almost knocking it over, and began pacing the length of the kitchen. "Can you come pick me up?" Her voice came out tight and breathless.
There was a pause. "Wait, what? What's going on?"
Violet opened her mouth to respond--but then she heard it. Floorboards creaking upstairs.
Her eyes shot to the ceiling as she heard another step. Then another.
No. Not now. Please not now
. Bri's voice filtered through the phone. "Hello? Violet? You okay? What's--"
"I'll call you back," Violet whispered. Then she ended the call and set her phone face down on the counter just as she heard Noah start to descend the stairs. Each creek was amplified in the silence of the kitchen. She stood frozen, her hands gripping the edge like it might hold her upright. When he entered the room, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She stared at the floor, hearing his steps slow. He crossed the threshold without saying anything. The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, soft and low.
"I'm sorry," She heard him say, his voice low and careful. Violet took a deep breath as she turned to look at him. Noah looked...tired. The kind of tired that wasn't about sleep. His hoodie hung loose on his frame, and there was tension in his jaw, like he'd been clenching it for hours. Violet tried to find something to say--anything to lighten the tension between them.
" It-it was the wine," she said quickly, waving her hand like it could undo the memory. "We were drunk. It was late. It was... a mistake." He didn't argue, but he didn't agree either.
"It won't happen again." She continued as she folded her arms around herself, her gaze going back to the floor. The tension was too much for her; she began flexing and extending her toes on the cool tiled floor, an action to keep her grounded and ease the nervousness that was swirling in her stomach. There was a pause, and neither of them moved. Then something inside of her burst, unable to be contained any longer. "I feel so guilty."
Noah's brows drew together, but he stayed quiet, letting her speak. "I'm your stepsister," she continued, barely above a whisper, the words tasting like poison as they left her lips. "And you have a girlfriend. Amanda might be awful to me, but she's still... she's still your girlfriend." She felt tears forming, and she quickly blinked them away. "What we did was wrong. What I let happen. What I--" She broke off, squeezing her eyes shut, knowing she couldn't stop herself from crying.
