I hated that I noticed.
“What time is it?” His voice was gravelly, barely above a whisper.
“Almost eleven.”
“Fuck.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I need to call in sick.”
I didn’t respond, just turned back to my laptop. Let him figure out his own mess. I had work to do and a date to look forward to.
I heard him stand, heard his footsteps padding toward the bathroom. The door closed, and a moment later the sink turned on. I tried to focus on the design I was working on, but my mind kept drifting to what had happened last night.
He’d gone through my phone. Looked at my private photos and messages. The violation of it made my skin crawl, but underneath the anger was something else. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
He’d seen me at my most vulnerable. Seen me in ways no one should see their stepbrother. And the look on his face when I’d confronted him… It hadn’t been disgust. It had been guilt, yes, but also something darker. Something hungry. Something that looked a lot like lust.
I shook my head, forcing the thought away. Kent was straight. Whatever I’d seen in his eyes was probably just shock or embarrassment at being caught. Nothing more. It couldn’t be anything else, right?
The bathroom door opened and Kent emerged, looking slightly more human. He’d splashed water on his face, and his hair was damp at the edges.
“James,” he started, his voice still rough. “About last night?—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know, but I need to explain?—”
“There’s nothing to explain, Kent.” I kept my eyes on my screen, refusing to look at him. “You were drunk. You invaded my privacy. End of story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” I finally turned to face him and immediately regretted it. He looked wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, his jaw tight with tension. “You crossed a line. A major line. And if you do it again, you’re gone. That’s all there is to it.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him struggling with something. His mouth opened like he wanted to say more, but then he closed it again, his jaw clenching.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Can I at least make some coffee?”
“Do whatever you want. I have work to do.”
He moved to the kitchen, and I heard him rummaging through the cabinets. The coffee maker started up, and the familiar smell began to fill the apartment. I tried to focus on my work, but I was too aware of his presence, of every movement he made.
My phone buzzed again. I picked it up, half expecting another message from the guy downstairs, but it was from my mom.
Mom: Hi sweetie! Just checking in. How are you doing?
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell her about Kent? About how he’d shown up out of nowhere and turned my life upside down? About how he’d violated my privacy and made me feel unsafe in my own home?
No. She’d just worry. And knowing her, she’d probably try to intervene, to get us to “work things out” like we were still kids fighting over toys.
Me: I’m good, Mom. Just busy with work. How are you and Tom?
Mom: We’re fine! Your father wants to know if you’re coming to dinner on Sunday. Kent said he’d be there. I knowyou boys haven’t seen each other in a long time and thought it would be nice to have the entire family together for once.
Of course he did. Perfect Kent, always showing up for family dinners, always playing the role of the good son. Meanwhile, I’d been avoiding those dinners for months because I couldn’t stand the way my stepfather looked at me. Like I was a disappointment, like my sexuality was something shameful that needed to be tolerated rather than accepted.
Me: I’ll try to make it. Let you know closer to the date. Got a lot going on with work right now.
Mom: Okay honey. Love you!
Me: Love you too.
