Series: Peach State Stepbros Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
“Like being broody and grumpy?” he teases, clearly feeling the effects of what he’s smoking.
“Atlas is like one of those guys from teen romance movies. He just needs to work on pouting those lips a little more.” Brenner makes ridiculous kissy faces while also wrinkling his forehead in what must be his way of trying to mock intensity.
“Why aren’t you ever on my side?” I joke.
Before Brenner can reply, Taylor says, “That sparkling vampire. Atlas is like him.” He laughs. Definitely high.
“Oh my God. That’s so him!” Brenner practically bounces on my couch cushion. He’s got more energy than anyone I know.
“Keep talking shit to remind me why both of you are getting busy with your hands more often than not. Whatever I’m doing clearly works.” It’s a BS excuse. I’m the way I am because it’s a whole lot easier than dealing with how I really feel, but I can’t tell them that.
I stand, then walk over and plop down on the chair. Just as I’m pulling my cell out, Brenner says, “You think that shit will work with your stepbrother? Give me some tips, man. I want him.”
My pulse skyrockets. What the hell is it about Troy that makes everyone I know want to fuck him? Is it that boy-next-door vibe? The fact that outwardly he tries to keep the peace with everyone except me, but beneath the surface, we can all tell there’s something a little…darker isn’t the word…maybe wild…yeah, there’s something wild that wants to break free.
Clearly, I’ve put way too much thought into this, and if it wasn’t for both Dixon and Brenner saying something on the same day, maybe I wouldn’t be dissecting it.
Ignoring my friends, I let them lose themselves in the game while I check my phone. Speak of the devil. I can’t help smiling before I even read his message.
Lil Stepbro: Let me know when you’re finished with your date. Something I want to talk to you about.
I snort. He has to know I’m not really on a date, right?
Me: No.
Lil Stepbro: Stop being an asshole.
Me: How do I stop being who I am?
Everyone thinks so, so it must be true.
Lil Stepbro: Are you home?
Me: What’s it to you?
I could do this all day. I realize that probably means I’m a bad person, but Troy makes me smile when I get him all ruffled, quiets some of the frustration that’s always in my head. I know he’s been through a lot too. His mom will do anything to keep my dad happy, and I think that hurts Troy more than he lets on. Maybe even more than he knows. It’s why even though I was a dick about the whole thing, I bought him the alternator. He deserves people doing nice things for him sometimes. I just have to find a way to do them while still being me.
Lil Stepbro: Can you just tell me where you are?
Me: Zimbabwe
Lil Stepbro: I’m on my way over. We’re talking whether you want to or not.
Well, shit. This just got interesting. I like it when he gets all pissy.
“You guys gotta go,” I tell Brenner and Taylor.
“Why?” Taylor asks.
Because my stepbrother is coming over. Which shouldn’t be a reason. It’s not like I have to be alone with the guy for him to tell me how big of a dick I am.
“I’m tired.”
“It’s only eight thirty,” Brenner complains. They both live on campus, so they’re always jonesing for my shitty apartment—hence the pepperoni pizza.
“Dude, whatever. Someone is coming over.”
That language they understand. If they think I’m hooking up, they know they’d be doing the same thing as me if the situation was reversed, even when Taylor sometimes forgets to think with his cock.
“You suck, Atlas,” Taylor says, but he still ends the game. “Have fun. You should teach us how to brood. Does this work?” He pulls a funny face like Brenner did earlier, that looks like he’s trying to take a shit, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Yes. That’s exactly it. You should do that to everyone you want to sleep with.”
“Bet.” He pumps his brows.
Taylor throws his arm over Brenner’s shoulder and gives him a noogie, the two of them cracking up. I have way more fun with them than I let them know.
“Thanks for the food,” I say, and we bump fists.
They bail, and I sit there trying to figure out what has Troy so bent out of shape that he has to come over. Maybe he just wants to get the alternator right away. I assume he went to the metal yard and knows I bought it. He probably thinks I’ll fuck with it or something, which I would never do.
My fingers tap a beat against the arm of the chair while I wait for Troy to show up. When there’s a knock at the door, I call out, “Come in.”