Falling For My Ruthless Stepbrother

3

Chapter 3

POV Ethan.

"Isn't that girl over there...?" Mark's question trails off when my hand closes around his shoulder in a slight squeeze. Or maybe a bit stronger. "Ouch!"

"Not a single word," I shake my head at him. It's bad enough that one of my best friends has noticed she's here.

I didn't expect them to arrive so early. The wedding was just yesterday, and now there's a moving truck in front of my house. This is going to be horrible.

"But explain to me why she's here," I let out a small scoff. If I had known she would arrive today, I wouldn't have invited Mark to play PlayStation. None of my friends could know, but I know Mark very well. We've been friends since we were 8 years old, more than half our lives together, and I know he won't leave me alone until I tell him the truth.

"Our parents are now married, and evidently, she's my new stepsister."

Saying it disgusts me.

"Damn, really?" I raise one of my eyebrows in his direction.

"I swear, if it were up to me, I'd have her miles away. I can't stand her voice, especially when she talks about numbers and those derivative things, and I don't know what else... Besides, it's her... She's so..."

"Beautiful."

"Excuse me?" I burst into laughter too loudly, drawing the attention of people getting out of the car. "She's uglier than a fumble on the goal line."

Lily, my new stepmother, greets me from below with a big smile, and I return the greeting because she's actually a great woman, and I feel comfortable around her. I don't mind that she married Dad; in fact, I told him it was an excellent idea when he mentioned he wanted to propose.

The only problem here is the damn creature she has as a daughter. She thinks she's so perfect that it becomes irritating.

"Was," I turn to Mark, momentarily forgetting what we were talking about. "She used to be ugly; we have to admit she's become quite beautiful lately. She's no longer a kid. Now she's a very sexy woman."

I furrow my brow, disgusted, and turn to look at Hilary.

She's leaning on her mother's car hood, wearing a small jean short, an open pink sweater revealing a thin white shirt that doesn't cover her belly button. She has Converse shoes in the same color as her sweater, and her hair, which is blonde—very blonde, almost white—shines under the sun, tied up in a bun on top of her head.

Now she doesn't wear glasses, no bangs, no braces.

But she's still as flat as the day she was born.

"You're completely blind," I tell him and take a sip of my energy drink.

"Hey, four extra hands wouldn't hurt us!" my dad shouts from below as he opens the moving truck.

Hilary looks up at that moment, and her eyes meet mine. Even from the distance we're at, I can see the intense blue color of her eyes and also notice how unhappy she is to see me.

I smile to myself. Having Hilary living in my house might not be so bad after all. I can play many pranks on her and annoy her. I enjoy seeing her furious; she looks very amusing.

"Let's go," I tell Mark, who steps out of my room balcony first.

I descend the stairs without any hurry. Last night the party ended late, so it didn't cross my mind that on a Sunday, a day after the wedding, they would arrive here with the moving truck.

They deserved a bit of rest at least.

I check the time on my Apple Watch; it's four in the afternoon. We are on summer vacation, so we don't have classes tomorrow, and even more reason for the newlyweds to be on their honeymoon. Not here.

"Wasn't it better to do this after the honeymoon?" I greet my father when I reach his side.

After the party, he and Lily went to a hotel in the city. They could have stayed longer.

"No, because then who will take care of them when we leave in two days?" my father asks, holding a box labeled "books – Hilary." It seems to be a quite heavy box.

I sense a citrusy scent out of nowhere, and then I see a white flash by my side. I glance to that spot and see Hilary next to me.

“What did you just say?" Hilary asks with a soft but nervous voice, as if she already knew the answer and was afraid of it.

“Hasn't your mom told you?" my father asks, grimacing while carrying a box. I take it from his hands and confirm that it's very heavy. Damn, they feel like stones instead of books.

“How many books do you have?" I ask with a slightly choked voice as I leave the box on the porch and return to the truck.

Hilary stands with crossed arms in front of my father.

“Darling, did you tell Hilary about the trip?" he asks, still looking at her.

Lily comes down from the truck and stops beside my dad.

"If I told her, she wouldn't have come today, and you know I can't leave her alone with Emily; they are little girls."

"I'm not a little girl!" she exclaims, raising her arms. I cross my arms amused.

Well, it's the first time in years that I've seen a mother-daughter argument. I have to enjoy this.

Mark walks past me pretending not to be involved while he continues to carry boxes into the house.

"Honey, we've already discussed it. Now decisions are made as a family, and Michael and I decided that Ethan is very responsible and will take good care of them."

"Yes, Hilary, I'll take good care of both of you.

“That decision clearly wasn't a family decision because you didn't include us," Hilary says. She's so petite that it's funny how she seems to want to jump over all of us. Her cheeks are red, and her eyebrows are furrowed, indicating her displeasure.

"Ethan can't take care of us, starting with the fact that I don't need a babysitter because I'm already grown up, and he doesn't know how to take care of Emily."

I turn to look at Emily, who is still inside Lily's car playing some game on the tablet with a strawberry-patterned case. If she's always this calm, there won't be any problem taking care of her.

"Between the two of you, you'll be fine," says my father, and I nod, agreeing with him. Come on, it can't be too difficult to take care of two mini-humans.

"Ugh, I wish Aunt Emma hadn't gone on a trip," Hilary says with regret and turns away from us.

"She'll get over it," Lily tells my father and me. Then she turns to me. "We hadn't told you either in case you told her, but we knew you wouldn't have any problem with it."

I shrug nonchalantly, not making a big deal out of it. I didn't expect it, but it's not a problem for me.

"If you know we never talk, right?" I ask Lily, pointing to Hilary and me. "And it's not me; it's just that you can never talk to her. She's always growling like an angry dog or rolling her eyes, and between us, honestly, sometimes I'm scared. She seems like a little elf who will pounce on me and hurt me."

"I heard you, i***t!"

My father laughs while Lily scolds her daughter for her words.

"Okay, no more arguments," Lily says. "Sweetheart, can you tell Hilary which room is hers, please? I'll keep bringing everything out."

"It's the one next to Ethan's room," my father says, and I see Hilary looking at her mother with wide eyes.

"Mom..."

"It's my fault," my father raises his hand, and I don't know what they're talking about. "It's the farthest room from Ethan that I could get. The others are not suitable for living; it was either that one or the service room in the basement."

"That one works perfectly for me," Hilary says quickly, and then I understand that she doesn't want to be close to me in any sense. Oh, the more I want to start making her suffer.

"Hilary, there are weird animals around there; it's not a habitable place. Of course, I won't let you go to the basement. Your new room is very comfortable. I assure you."

She sighs, and her shoulders slump.

"Ethan, please take her," my father says.

I nod to indicate that she should follow me. She looks into my eyes for a few seconds before sighing again and starting to walk.

I pick up the box I left on the porch and go upstairs with her.

"You didn't answer me. Did you put rocks instead of books?" I ask again, trying to break the silence. And I don't know why I do it when it's better not to hear her voice.

"They're special editions, all hardcovers," she seems like she wants to say more, but she prefers not to continue talking.

“Is that the only box?” I ask; I see her shake her head when I open the door to what will be her room.

It's the second room up the stairs and down the hallway to the right.

“Nope, there are three more in the truck.”

“Equally heavy?” I ask. I think it weighs at least fifty kilos.

“That's the lightest one.”

“Damn...” I let out a grunt, allowing her to enter her new room.

There isn't much yet. A bed in the middle of the room, two nightstands on each side, a desk with a lamp, an empty closet, and the door to a bathroom.

A bathroom she has to share with me, but I won't tell her that for now.

She looks around, and I'm still surprised at how small she is, or maybe I'm just too big, I don't know. The thing is, she looks like an ant in this room, and it's not a very big room.

“I'll go get the other boxes then”

I walk past her; her head turns in the opposite direction, but I still can't help but see that her eyes are filled with tears.

Well, I didn't think she'd be capable of crying, knowing how rude and nasty she usually is almost all the time.

I guess everyone has a weakness, a breaking point, and hers has arrived.