Falling For My Ruthless Stepbrother

4

Chapter 4

I knew this was a terrible idea. I don’t know how I let myself be deceived by my mother. I should have figured that all the eagerness to move into Michael’s house wasn’t a good sign, but no, I was naive, and now I’m paying the consequences.

Ethan sets down the last boxes labeled with my name at the foot of the door to my room and walks away without saying anything else.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my head hanging low; to say that I feel fine would be a lie. I don’t like feeling trapped, suffocated, obligated…

It might even seem silly for an outsider to understand how I feel about this situation. Some might think I’m just being whimsical because my mother forced me to live in a house where I don’t feel comfortable, but no, it’s not just that.

It’s the fact of having to live under the same roof as the person who has caused me so much trauma.

“Hilary Nerdy Jones”

“Four Eyes Jones”

“The Book Rat”

And it’s that for me, it was never easy to relate to people, but having someone who always wants to ruin everything made it much worse. Do you know when you enter a place, and the atmosphere immediately feels tense? As if there’s a bad vibe reigning throughout the place. That’s how I feel with Ethan. When he’s around, the discomfort is too strong for me.

So, spending several days alone in a new house for me and next to Ethan is simply a nightmare.

My mind goes back to those moments a few years ago, me with braces, my side braid, and notebooks scattered on the floor in the middle of the school hallway. Ethan a few steps away, pointing at me and laughing loudly, causing more people to join his “joke” of throwing my books on the ground as if that were the latest momentous joke, the one that would propel him to be the biggest clown.

And just like that memory, I have many more where I find myself in a vulnerable situation, and Ethan is in front of me, holding his chest amidst laughter.

I see Michael’s car driving away, realizing my greatest fear. My little sister is in front of me, leaning her back against my body, my hands on her shoulders trying to console her. And beside us, staring at the rear of the car getting farther away, Ethan is strangely silent and serious, with his hands crossed in front of his chest. I clearly heard the moment when his father warned him that he was forbidden to bring any girl to the house out of respect for my sister and me, especially for my little sister. That’s why I think he’s so serious.

He might have been forced to be our guardian — something I hate — but he seems to hate it more.

I don’t want to talk to him; we don’t have to exchange any words, so I take my little sister and lead her away from there. I’m responsible for her, and I’ll make sure Emily is happy while my mother returns.

She follows me in silence, and I head straight to my room to rest a bit. I have a strong headache from stress. I feel trapped, imprisoned, humiliated, and very upset. I’d like to go somewhere else where I feel at home, but I’m stuck in this prison that is driving me insane.

I turn on the TV and let Emily choose any show she wants to watch. I sit next to her, letting my back rest against the bed’s headboard and resting my head against it.

“I’m so bored, and there’s nothing good on TV,” she says, and I make a face. I am more than bored.

“What do you want to do?” I ask, stroking her hair. Her hair is dark blonde, very long and shiny; it’s beautiful, and I admire it. Sometimes I find myself brushing her hair just to cheer myself up, feeling like the witch from Rapunzel and her obsession with the princess’s hair.

“Pizza!” she exclaims, and I complain a bit.

“Sure? Don’t you want to play a board game? Draw something?”

“Nope.”

Her answer is too clear, and there’s no way to change her mind. I would like to refuse the pizza, but the truth is, I’m craving it too. The problem is that I don’t want to leave my room.

“Then let me call for delivery.”

My sister looks at me as if I’m crazy, as if two heads instead of one were hanging from my neck.

“What?”

“Mom left everything necessary to make a pizza because she knows you hate ordering pizza delivery.”

I bite the inside of my cheek.

It’s true; I hate ordering pizza delivery and prefer to make it myself because often what arrives is just a reheated pizza from previous days, which I find horrible. In this city, I haven’t found a pizzeria that I like more than the ones I prepare myself.

“Come on, Hilary. Make one.”

“Alright.”

I get up from the bed, watching her run out, and tense my shoulders. I descend very slowly towards the kitchen, and out of the corner of my eye, I see that in the game room, as Michael calls it, which is a space with a very large plasma TV, a gaming console, a huge sofa bed, a shelf full of CDs with movies, board games, and a myriad of other things I haven’t dared to look at, Ethan is watching a football game and having a soda.

I reach the open space kitchen. A central island with a white marble countertop, pearl-colored drawers with matte black details, a pantry that is a whole room and where it will clearly be difficult to find what Mom left.

I look at the wall of ovens and feel envy and excitement at the same time. I’ve never used one of those, and it excites me a lot to do so.

“Where’s the flour?” I ask my sister.

She shrugs, and both of us enter the pantry to find what we need. We both let out a “Wow” upon seeing everything in there, and my eyes go directly to the shelf full of chocolates and sweets.

It. Is. The. Damn. Paradise.

My sister also looks at the sweets longingly, but Mom has restricted sugar for her so she doesn’t grow up with that dependency. She gave up on me; I used to hide behind sweets when I came home very sad from school, which was generally quite often.

“Here’s the flour,” I say when I spot it in a corner. I also easily find the can of tomato; as it is a homemade pizza, my way of doing it is very artisanal, and I need many ingredients like flour, oil, salt, yeast, cheese, tomatoes, spices, pepperoni, mushrooms, and anything else we want to add.

I find everything except the yeast, and this is crucial to making the dough.

“It’s not here,” I bite my lower lip while continuing to search everywhere, and I simply don’t see it. My sister already has everything on the island and waits for me impatiently.

“Emy, come here.”

She comes to my side, and I indicate that she should keep searching as well.

I think about what I can use to replace the yeast if I don’t find it, but I give up on the idea because the dough would turn out very ugly.

“I’ll ask Ethan,” she says, leaving the pantry.

“No, don’t…”

I don’t have time to stop her, and I see her run towards him. I hide behind the pantry door and pretend to be looking for something while I hear footsteps approaching the area.

“…Pizza?” I manage to hear.

“Yes, Hilary makes a delicious one, but we couldn’t find the yeast, and without that, it’s impossible.”

I half-smile a bit upon hearing my sister; she also knows how to make a pizza.

The large pantry feels small when Ethan’s large frame enters the room; his eyes glance at me for a moment before he turns around and starts moving things around until he manages to grab a small bag from the back of one of the highest shelves—too small for any normal person, but especially for Ethan’s hands.

I feel relief when he hands it to my sister, and she smiles at him as if he were her prince charming.

God…

“Thank you!”

She takes the yeast to the island, and I don’t move, firstly because Ethan is blocking the entire exit, and secondly because if I don’t move, I’ll be invisible.

I see him grab a bag of potato chips and a few chocolates before turning around and leaving.

I watch him leave a chocolate next to my sister before ruffling her hair and returning to his previous spot. My sister smiles broadly as she unwraps her chocolate, and I sigh before stepping into the kitchen to prepare the pizza, hoping to feel as calm as I always do when I cook