Mia The first thing I register when I wake up is Garrettâs familiar scent. Iâm surrounded by warmth, and I open my eyes to find my face pressed firmly against his chest. Heâs wearing a T-shirt, but itâs riding up enough that my hand is draped over his bare stomach.
Heâs still asleep, his head tilted to the side as he breathes quietly. So I admire him for a moment, the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw, and the perfect slope of his nose. The fullness of those lips that I now know are to kiss. Especially with the scratchy texture of his five oâclock shadow.
How long have I dreamt about kissing Garrett? Since I was old enough to even know what a kiss was. And now that heâs finally treating me like he might actually be attracted to me, Iâm terrified that itâs all one elaborate joke. Any moment, heâs going to pull the rug out from under me, and Iâm going to feel like a fool. Iâm not normally so apprehensive to let my guard down, but with Garrettâ¦the stakes are just too high.
Resting my head back on his chest, I run my fingers softly over the tuft of hair running down his tight stomach. He shivers and fidgets in his sleep.
I know I really shouldnât, but I canât help myself. So I trail my fingers upward, sliding under his shirt and along the ridges of his abs to touch his pecs.
He moans and squirms again. Iâm getting too bold, but then againâ¦heâs admitted to peeping on me in the shower, so he owes me. Getting a little too daring, I move my hand down, past the hemline of his pajama pants and over the swollen ridge of his cock. My fingers only lightly brush the hard surface before he wakes up.
With a loud moan, he grabs my hand in his and pulls it away from his pants. I panic for a minute, afraid Iâve been caught, but when I glance up at his face, heâs staring down at me with wild lust in his eyes.
âWeâre not drunk anymore,â I say in a sultry tone, and for a moment, he lets my hand rest against his morning wood, grinding his hips upward into my palm. Then, before it can go any further, he yanks my wrist away and drops it.
âBut you are a virgin,â he replies, and I sink into the mattress with disappointment.
Then he runs his hands through his hair with a stretch. It takes him a few minutes to wake up before he turns toward me. âJesus, Mia. How on earth could you get to without having sex?â
âHave you met men?â I reply with a laugh. I lie on my side, my head resting on my hand as I stare at him. âHonestly, it just always felt like whoever I was with only wanted to be with me for one thing. I wanted to have sex, but I wanted to connect with that person too, you know? I wanted to feel so comfortable with them that I could tell them what I want and not feel like I was just being used as something to stick their dick into.â
He grimaces.
âNot every guy is like that,â he says, turning toward me.
âI know thatâ¦â I say, letting my voice trail off. I never felt that way about Garrett. If only I could tell him about all the naughty fantasies I had about him as a teenager. Sneaking into his bed at night and climbing under the covers so we could touch each other in secret. âThatâs why last night would have been perfect.â
âWhy?â he asks. âBecause you were drunk?â
âBecause I trust you, you idiot.â
When he turns his head toward me again, thereâs a strange sense of sincerity in his expression, something real that I donât normally see when I look at Garrett. Nothing between us is ever serious, but telling him that I trust him seems to have triggered a genuine response. Like he might actually be taking me seriously.
Then he quickly rolls out of bed. The stiffness in his pants is gone along with all the fire between us. âMia, Iâm not the one you want, I promise. Not for your first time. You want a guy whoâs going to give you more than a one-night stand, whoâs not fucked in the head, and whoâs not your goddamn stepbrother.â
I canât believe what Iâm hearing. For the past two days, Garrett has been driving me crazy, teasing me and making me want him, but now that Iâve opened up and admitted that Iâm a virgin, Iâm practically repulsive to him. Was he just messing with me again? Teasing me to the point of having me begging him for sex.
Iâm an idiot.
âOh my God,â I say, jumping out of bed and staring at him with a smug expression. I quickly grab my phone off the floor, where it must have fallen in our frantic make-out session last night, and I shove it into my back pocket.
âWhat?â he asks.
âI just realized what this is.â Heâs staring at me, waiting to hear what Iâm about to say. âThis was all a joke to you. Some elaborate prank. Just to get me wet and begging for you, only so you could turn me down.â
âIt wasnât a joke,â he replies, looking offended. âIâm trying to protect you, Mia.â
âDo you have any idea how it is to be turned down by your own stepbrother because youâre a virgin? Let alone turned down at all!â
âMiaââ
âNo!â I snap, putting my hand up toward him. âYou didnât want me with other guys like Reese, but then donât want me because I been with other men. It makes no sense, but the only thing that does make sense is you torturing me, and Iâm officially done letting you.â
I storm out of his room and rush up the stairs, praying that our parents arenât on the second floor waiting for me. Luckily, the house is empty as I continue up to my room, slamming the door behind me as I crash on top of my bed and scream into my pillow.
I hate him. Why are my emotions such a joke to him? I want to cry and yell and just vent about all of the angry things Iâm feeling, but I canât talk to any of my friends back home about this. Itâs too embarrassing to admit that I was turned down by my own stepbrother. Plus, none of them are all that great at listening. Theyâre great friends to have fun with, but I donât have anyone to really talk to, to share things with, and confide in.
Unlessâ¦
I fish my phone out of my back pocket and notice my battery is at two percent. After I plug it in, I stare down at the FlirtyGirl app. Iâve never done this before, reached out to a client like this, but something about Drake tells me that he wouldnât mind. I believe he really would listen. And maybe itâs just attention I want, but I have a good feeling Drake is more genuine than the rest.
I swipe open the app and find his username. Heâs offline. But I could send him a message. If he has his notifications on, heâll receive it. Itâs a long shot, but Iâm desperateâand hungover, maybe even still a little drunk, which might explain why Iâm actually doing this.
I hit Send and then immediately start to panic. That message looks way too creepy, so I quickly back it up with, If he sees this, heâs totally going to think Iâm just fishing for another paid hour of video sex. Shit.
âUgh,â I moan as I let my face fall into the pillow. âIâm pathetic.â
But then my phone buzzes in my hand.
I stare at his words in shock. Then I quickly reply, Heâs not real. This canât possibly be a real, human man. None of them have ever responded to me like this. Not without some hint at wanting to see my tits in the process. Just to be safe, I keep our chat in the messages instead of going into a video chat. I look like hot garbage anyway.
The line is silent for a while, and I start to panic that he think Iâm crazy. Why did I lead with that? And to a client? Whatâs really strange is that I feel comfortable enough to talk so openly about my private life with a client. I wish I knew why, but I honestly have no idea.
Itâs taking him too long to reply. There are no typing bubbles on the screen. Just silence.
I laugh as I read his question. No. Garrett thinks I hate him, and although I think hate is a strong word, he definitely has no idea how I really feel. I call him cocky and obnoxious, and he calls me annoying and bratty, and even if he is flirting with me now, heâd much rather keep our relationship as stepsiblings-with-benefits than try to make it anything else.
Letting out a sigh, I stare at my own messages, letting this sink in. I canât believe Iâm telling him all of this, but then again, heâs just a guy on the internet. It feels good to finally get it all out, though.
He types for a while, the little bubbles bouncing on the screen as he puts together his next message, and I wait not-so-patiently. Finally, his message pops up.
My jaw literally drops. How does he seem to know all the right things to say?
I bite my lip, waiting to hear something, , personal about Drake. It feels like a window into a world Iâm not supposed to see into. And I have my suspicions for what heâs about to admit. Like him admitting to fucking a teacher back in high school or having a threesome once or something mildly embarrassing. I do not expect the message that pops up next.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head.
? Iâve seen his body on camera, and yeah, it was a little dark, but it was definitely in shape and absolutely nothing to keep hidden from women for a decade.
The typing bubbles bounce on the screen for a moment as I wait for his response.
It feels like heâs pulling these words directly from my own brain. Feelings Iâve felt before. And, obviously, I canât relate to the sex part, but I know the lack of connection part very well, as if the sincerity in people is gone and nothing feels real anymore.
Oh yeah.
An hour and a half goes by while we chat, and the subject never comes back to Garrett and the way he humiliated me this week. Instead, we talk about life in general. Our favorite things and our jobs. He tells me stories about work and his friends.
Garrett never comes upstairs to bother me during my chat with Drake. Iâm sure heâs already moved on with his life. And thatâs fine. Drake makes me feel better about myself anyway.