HUGE 3D: Chapter 7

No matter how many times I reread my notes on the ‘60s counter-culture in America for my Sociology class, it’s like looking at a blank page. Nothing sinks in. Around me, the scratching of pencils and pens across paper, sighing, and pages being turned all signal the time.

Exam time.

This is usually when I grumble about how ridiculous it is that I have to still take all these general education courses when I’m studying to become a nurse, but instead I’m pretty much losing my mind.

If only I could concentrate long enough to study.

Gritting my teeth, I flip the page in my notebook. My nerves are on edge and not just because of exams, although that would be enough to do it.

Even though I keep telling myself I need to get a grip, I can’t help thinking about my stepbrothers.

Dane.

Dylan.

Drew.

Their names seem to rotate in my head in a never-ever circle, sort of like a merry-go-round of the forbidden. If there was a pill that I could take to forget everything that happened, I would take it. I don’t want all of my thoughts to be consumed by them, but they are. It’s worse now, since what happened in the pool and after with Drew. I had to hide out in my room all day yesterday to avoid having to face them. I used my exam as an excuse when they came knocking but I’m sure they didn’t buy it.

But even as I commit myself to remembering the important dates down in front of me, the memory of Drew’s lips on mine hovers in my mind, teasing me. His whole body practically vibrated against me. Hell, having the three of them pressed up so close to me, their lips and hands all over me above and below the water…

The blood rushes to my face slowly and I close my eyes, swallowing hard. I press the back of my hand to my cheeks. They’re burning hot. Even my lips feel swollen from the very thought of what went on between the four of us that night.

I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t register the squeak of the chair next to me.

“Whatever you’re thinking about,” someone whispers, nearly scaring the ever-loving shit out of me, “must be sexy as hell. Feel up to sharing with the class?”

Dylan’s sly smile is enough to take my breath away so close to me like this, but I scowl instead, embarrassed that he interrupted my thoughts. Even if they were partially about him… “Nothing that concerns you,” I lie, leaning back over my notes.

He looks over my papers scattered about, tilting his head to read my scrawled handwriting. “Hippies and socialism. Fun stuff. Does Professor Giacometti still have that mustache?”

I snort, unable to help myself. Partly because I forgot Dylan took Sociology last year, but mainly because Professor Giacometti is a woman. “She calls it a unique characteristic about herself.”

“How very meta of her,” he replies, poking around my tote bag.

“Hey!” I hiss. “Get out of my stuff!”

“All right, all right!” Dylan quickly retreats, his gorgeous blue eyes lit up in amusement. “I was just looking for a snack.”

I smack his hand away as he tries to sneak the pack of cookies out of my bag. “There’s a vending machine right outside the library,” I say, fighting the grin that threatens to overtake me as Dylan chuckles.

Now this feels normal. Dylan’s the joker of the triplets—the funny guy. He’s always managed to make me laugh, no matter how hard I might try to resist his charm. He calls it his gift. In fact, it’s what made me feel more at home living in the house him and his brothers from the get-go. As long as Dylan was goofing off, relieving some of the awkwardness, I didn’t feel put on the spot so much. At least I didn’t use to.

“Warm? Yeah, it’s pretty stifling in here, isn’t it?” he points out, watching me fan myself. The library tends to get overheated during exam time. I look around, surprised to see that a lot of the people who were in here when I first sat down have left.

I pull at the collar of my old hometown’s high school football team shirt that I’m wearing, wishing I would’ve thought to sit under one of the vents. “Yep.”

Dylan’s face contorts into an expression full of mock horror. “Oh, hell no, Milly. What is that crap you’re wearing?” he asks, pointing to my shirt.

It’s the same joke, different day. All three of the guys pick on me for wearing this and my other sweatshirt around, saying it’s blasphemy. “Please. Do we really have to do this again?”

But he’s already on a tangent, there’s no way around it. “How dare you wear that filth in this fine establishment!”

A quiet giggle finally escapes from the back of my throat. “Don’t start that again.” He smirks and for a moment I just want to let myself go and enjoy having fun with him. I want to pretend he’s someone other than my stepbrother. I want to stop feeling scared all the time that if I trust someone then it’ll be a huge mistake that’ll end up with my getting my heart broken. And apart from all that, I need to concentrate on trying to pass this exam.

It’s not fair that every time he flashes that million-watt smile my way I get this ridiculous fluttery feeling in my chest. Dylan is my brother, I tell myself. He’s also Drew’s brother and Drew has already stepped two feet over the line. Dylan needs to stay firmly behind it.

I shake my head, trying to wipe the half goofy, half mortified look from my face. I don’t want Dylan to know what I’m thinking, but if I’m not careful, it’ll be pretty apparent again. “I need to get some work done here, bro,” I say, trying to set that line firmly in place.

He nods but doesn’t get up just yet and instead, seems to lean in closer to me. His hand brushes against mine, and he gently strokes the top of it with his pinky, watching me carefully to gauge my reaction. The grin softens on his face, but I can’t bring myself to look at him so close.

“You know, Mills, our team is on fire this season. You should start coming to our games. Mine and Dane’s and Drew’s. I think we all could use a little more cheering in our section.” I roll my eyes because I can’t believe that is the truth. If the rumors are true, my stepbrothers have worked their way through the cheerleading squad. I’m sure plenty of their conquests are more than happy to be throwing moral support in their direction, especially if the other rumors about their technique are to be believed.

My lady-garden clenches at the thought.

Damn, this is so not the direction that I want my thoughts to be traveling in. It’s been way too long since I had any kind of good sex. Craig, my last boyfriend turned out to be a self-centered douche bag and I dumped him just before I moved towns with mom. As a result, I’m just a seething mess of sexual tension. Maybe that’s what all this is about. I need an outlet for my urges and I’ve inadvertently focused on the men closest to me.

Even as I think it I don’t believe it.

Dane, Dylan, and Drew are the kinds of guys who turn heads wherever they go, especially if they are traveling in a pack.

“I think you guys have got all the cheerleaders you’re even gonna need, I say. “And anyway, I’m a loyal fan to my team.” I pat my shirt and Dylan’s eyes narrow in what looks like a challenge. He scoots his chair out, and I think he’s planning to storm off which seems a little extreme, but I’m more stunned when he yanks his basketball jersey over his head in the middle of the library, revealing the smooth hard plains of his abs.

What the hell is he trying to do to me?

“This will look way better, trust me,” he says before placing the jersey over my head, leaving it hanging loosely around my bewildered face. It slips down over me slowly, and I inhale the scent of Dylan, his light aftershave and deodorant leaving me woozy. He smells good. Too good.

I squeeze my thighs tightly together, unable to do much else. I think these Mason boys are trying to kill me! I don’t want to look at him standing there in those basketball shorts pulled down low enough for me to see the deep ‘v’ cut from his hips. I don’t want to but I can’t help myself. He’s just too gorgeous and too almost naked and I’m so weak it’s actually shameful.

I’m a puddle.

The sight of my stepbrother’s unbelievable chest has made me woozy.

I think I need therapy.

I take a deep breath to try and create some equilibrium but it doesn’t work, and Dylan is watching everything.

The boy isn’t stupid. He leans in, his warm breath in my ear. “I know what Drew said to you, Milly. I know he told you what we want.”

My eyes must widen because he chuckles. “You look half terrified,” he frowns. “You don’t need to be, you know that?”

I shake my head but he just shrugs. “You don’t have to keep pretending you don’t want it, too.”

I gasp, shaking my head again, but his mouth only moves to hover over mine, not caring at all if anyone’s watching. He moves it ever so slightly to the left and leaves a tantalizingly slow kiss on the very corner of my lips before pulling away slowly.

I should shove him and tell him what he’s doing is wrong.

I should wipe my lips with the back of my hand as though I find the whole thing disgusting.

I should, but I don’t.

I’m as startled as a deer in headlights at how much my stepbrother’s tiny kiss can affect me.

“You gonna come home with us, Mills?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, still half dazed. “I need to study,” I say.

Dylan looks like he doesn’t believe a word and I’ll admit that I don’t exactly sound convincing.

“Dane and Drew won’t be pleased.”

“Dane and Drew can take a running jump,” I snap. They might have promised to look after me but they’re not my keepers, for fuck sake.

Dylan just smirks. “Better get your head back into your book then.”

And as quickly as he arrived, Dylan disappears, except he’s minus a shirt, and I can’t help but watch him walk to the stairwell.

Just as he gets to the door, he turns and catches me looking. Even from this distance, I can see his eyes sparkling. He knows he’s got me. He knows.

Then he winks and leaves.

There goes my study time. My exam should be my top priority, but instead, all I can do is bring his shirt to my nose and face facts.

I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to resist these boys. I need mom and Richard to come home, ASAP.