My Stepbrother (Secret-Possession)

Cheetah Jacket

"If I remember correctly, aren't all senior parties cooler than the freshmen's?" Quinn asks, peering through the windscreen, just like the rest of us.

We are facing a decent-sized, roughly rectangular two-storey glass building, adorned with a touch of brick walls, in the middle of a well-maintained lawn. On the right side, there are two white garage doors similar to ours, and the building is consorted by two chimneys—one on the left side and the other at the far end. The second-floor long patio railing is made of transparent glass. Apart from the number of cars parked on both sides of the street, the house doesn't appear to be hosting a party at the moment, despite us being forty minutes late because of some gas issues. However, faint music can be heard emanating from within.

"You tell me," Lilith shrugs.

Letting out a small laugh that escapes her throat, Suri closes her eyes, trying to compose herself. "Please don't tell me we spent our day getting ready for a boring party."

"I'd be so disappointed in Tyron. I gave the guy more credit than this," Quinn remarks beside me.

"This dress is itching me," Lilith grumbles.

"Will you all stop yammering? Tyron isn't your typical local senior. This should be a modern senior party," Embry says, pushing the passenger door open.

Sighing, the rest of us scramble out of the car while the mighty redhead walks like the Khaleesi of all Summerlin or maybe even Las Vegas itself. The door opens before we can knock, and a blonde boy welcomes us with a warm smile.

The house is much noisier than we anticipated. Regular lighting has been replaced with multicoloured disco bulbs that transform the house into a club. The air carries an odd smell, and the confined space feels warm.

Many eyes turned towards us as we stood by the entrance. I'm not sure about the girls, but I know my knees can barely support me as we have gained the attention Embry desired. The music is actually loud, and I can already guess that the red cups contain the reason behind the peculiar smell filling the atmosphere.

Describing the interior design is challenging because of the crowded and dimly lit space, but I can tell that the Bertram family is financially well-off, and I hope none of their properties will be damaged. The kids around here seem wild and rough, something I have never witnessed before in my life.

Smirking, Embry turns to face us. With Lilith and me on the left, and Quinn and Suri on the right, since Embry is in the middle. "Don't judge a book by its cover."

Just then, Tyron appears behind the mighty Embry with a grin. "Look who's here, Vegas' favourite girls." He playfully applauds, and I swear I see the girls blush simultaneously. They seemed to enjoy their reputation and would go to great lengths to maintain it. "Ava, you came." His smile widened, and I nodded slightly. "You look pretty..." his gaze never left me. And now I swear I caught Lilith grinning widely while Embry frowned. Either Tyron noticed or he realised that the four of us were also dressed up, so he quickly added, "You all look beautiful."

"I know, I'm wearing Chanel. Kim Kardashian wore this to last year's Met Gala," Embry brags, as if she's receiving an award and asked for the history of her outfit designer. The girls roll their eyes in sync, and I almost laugh at her behaviour.

"You should get yourself a drink. They're in the kitchen," he informs us, and disappears into the dancing room.

I open my mouth to ask the girls what we should do, but I find myself standing alone. With a nervous sigh, I ventured further into the airless house, pushing through the crowd and attracting typical high school glances—some admiring, some just teenagers being teenagers. Eventually, I spot the kitchen and head in that direction, until I accidentally bump into someone and spill their pink drink on their peach shirt and maroon jacket—a cheetah jacket, if I'm not mistaken.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I exclaimed as panic surged through me. "Let me help. How can I assist?" I rushed my words as I stared at the stain I'd caused.

"s**t," the person muttered under their breath, and I raised my gaze to meet familiar brown eyes—Arlen Garret. Perfect. I've just spilt a drink on Arlen Garret.

With an apologetic smile, I bit my lip innocently. "Ava? You came," he says, surprised to see me.

"Yes, and I've ruined your shirt," I replied, feeling shy.

He chuckles before saying, "Exactly. But I can try to wipe off the possible part, and the rest will have to be taken care of by a professional cleaner." He continues to smile. "You look beautiful, by the way."

"Thank you," I said, blushing. The truth is, I'm not accustomed to receiving compliments from the opposite gender. Back in London, my life was the complete opposite of this. My mom worked at a hospital, earning a good income to take care of us, and she prioritised sending me to an expensive school. The boarding school I attended had everything a child could need, except for fun—no boys, no parties, no shopping, or makeup. Knowing that I was moving here, I had to learn some dressing and makeup skills from Sawyer, who attended a state school and had more freedom.

I've never been complimented by the opposite s*x, but as I step into this building, two men think I look beautiful, and many others can't take their eyes off me. It's a whole different world I'm experiencing right now.

"Come, I'll get you a drink," he kindly offers, and I follow behind him.

We make our way to the kitchen, where he hands me a cup filled with something deceptively watery—I'm afraid to take a sip. "What's this?" I ask, leaning closer to him as the music continues to blast.

"Dirty water punch," he smirks.

"What?" My jaw drops as I search for an explanation.

"Don't mind it. That's what we call it these days. It's ocean water punch," he explains. He stands beside me at the kitchen counter while I nervously examine the contents of the cup.

"Is it alcoholic?" I ask, and he chuckles.

"Besides coke and water, I think everything here has alcohol. You don't drink?"

"I'm fifteen," I firmly answered. I can see he's trying to hold back a laugh.

"Okay, then can I get you a coke?" he politely offers, and I nod. After all, I understand Coke more than most other beverages. "Coke it is, then," he confirms and walks over to the fridge, taking out two cans.

"You don't have to get me a coke if you don't want to," I murmured, embarrassingly. I know I must appear uncool to hang out with. I'm not surprised that even Lilith left me behind.

"I don't usually drink. I think this will be okay for me. Cheers." He raises his can, and I lightly tap mine against his, and we both smile.

"So, you think you're a bit better than my uncool self?" I joked.

"Yes, but I suppose I'm manageable for you since you happen to understand," he says, lifting his lip and offering a cute, small smile.

"Oh, yes," I laughed.

Arlen keeps me company for a while as we engage in casual conversation. He tells me about some junior parties he's attended and how they always managed to get invited to senior events last year. It's no surprise, considering everyone wants Leigh Boyce at their gatherings.

Arlen seems to be famous, as almost everyone who passes by either pats his back or tries to gain his attention through flirtation. However, his attention is solely on me until my eyes land back on his stained shirt.

"Are you sure you don't want to clean this? I can help," I reminded him, concern clear in my voice.

"It might make it worse, but I can't refuse an offer from a British girl. Maybe you have some idea that we all don't know," he says, smiling contagiously.

I place my tin and purse on the counter and open some cabinets until I finally find a napkin. I wet it under the tap, cautioning him about the cold water, and then squeezed out the excess before turning to him with a smile and gently applying it to the stained spot.

Arlen flinches slightly, followed by a cute chuckle. "You didn't tell me it was freezing."

"I think you need it. This place is so hot," I said as I continued to rub against the more damaged part of his shirt.

Laughing, he softly grabs my wrist. "You know what? I should go upstairs and find Tyron's wardrobe to swap it." Laughing along, I agree. If a best friend hosts a party in their house with their wardrobe just upstairs, it's a bonus when your shirt gets an ugly stain on it.

After Arlen disappears, I stand in the sparsely populated kitchen. There's a girl serving herself a possibly or definitely alcoholic drink, and I notice two couples engaging in typical teenage party behaviour.

From the small space leading to the living room, I spot Quinn dancing with a muscular, blonde guy wearing a cheetah jacket—definitely not Harry. I immediately felt the urge to intervene. I believe she's drunk because Quinn would never do that sober. I move towards the door when Embry appears out of nowhere and blocks my way, her palms resting on both sides of the door, completely restraining me in the kitchen as if I owe her something.

Letting out a heavy sigh, I asked, "What do you want?"

"Where is Leigh?" she asks, taking slow steps forward, forcing me to step backwards.

"I've been with you all day. How would I know?" I raised my eyebrows at her and shrugged. "Now, move out of the way. I need to save Quinn from that guy."

Embry tilts her head for a few seconds before facing me again with a thick smirk. "That is Lord Zachary. Take one step there, and whatever Quinn does to you, don't look my way for help," she claims.

I don't think Quinn will appreciate any part of this situation. She's intoxicated and needs saving. She's completely in love with Harry, and whenever I see them, they're rarely apart. I'm sure she'll regret this. "She's intoxicated," I protested.

"That's why it's called a high school party, dumb ass," she laughs, while I frown at the uncomfortable scene unfolding before my eyes—an unknown guy's hands roaming places on someone I consider a friend, as his tongue invades her throat.

Having had enough, I take a courageous breath. "I'm going." I step forward, and sassy Embry moves out of my way without hesitation or argument.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she says with a chilly tone that makes me pause in my tracks and reconsider. If Embry, who has been friends with Quinn longer than I have, isn't trying to stop her, why should I? She knows her friend well enough to allow her to flirt with some Lord Zaccadelli or whoever he is. Maybe Embry is right, perhaps this is what teenagers do, maybe this is what Quinn is doing, or maybe I'm just overthinking everything. So, I back down and turn to face Embry, who is amusingly tapping her heels on the tiled floor. Her makeup still looks as impeccable as when we left the salon. I don't think mine is ruined either, except for my slightly faded lipstick that left a stain on the Coke tin sitting on the counter.

I swallow as our gazes lock, her sharp snake-like eyes piercing through me. "What do you want?" I ask again while she shoots me a crooked smile, now that the kitchen is finally empty.

Twitching her lips, she leans against the counter, annoyingly tapping her nails on it. "You are going to call Leigh for me, but in a civilised manner. Like a sister asking for her brother's help."

Narrowing my eyes at Embry, I remained sceptical. "No, I don't need any help from Leigh right now."

"I know, but he is not here, so you will call him and make him appear," she boldly orders, as if expecting me to comply.

"Maybe he doesn't want to appear. That's why he's not here," I shot back.

Sighing softly, Embry shuts her eyes and swallows, seemingly debating whether to throw a crude comeback or try to talk like a mature grown-up, which her peers apparently are. "In case you didn't notice, we came here for a reason, and that reason is for me to meet Leigh. We didn't come here to drink coke," she says, her eyes darting to the tin on the counter. Of course, what was I thinking? This is Embry. She can't control her attitude. She's always going to reply in a rudely harsh manner. "Or stop the girls from making their mess," she adds smugly. And with that, I process her last sentence carefully. She didn't stop me from helping Quinn because Quinn was okay with it. She stopped me because she's a selfish person who puts herself first before everyone else.

Angry and frustrated, I turn back to the living room, expecting to find Quinn and the blonde guy dancing, but they're nowhere to be seen. I turn back to Embry, who is devilishly gnawing on her bottom lip. I couldn't find the right words to suit her darkest thoughts, so with a murderous glare, I made my way to the living room. Each step feels unsatisfying. I wanted to turn back and confront Embry. She fooled and distracted me, knowing Quinn was drunk and had no control over her choices. The thought alone makes me sick. How can someone I consider a friend do that to me?

I searched the crowded room for Quinn, but I couldn't find her. I even ask Suri if she has any idea where Quinn might be, but she's completely focused on trying to appear serious around a group of seniors on the couch, playing a game called 'straight face,' and ignores me. I had to give up after breaking the clear 'out of bounds' rule written on the sign. I headed up the stairs, invading Tyron Bertram's privacy.

I search all the rooms until I stumble upon Tyron, completely naked, having s*x with two girls.

In shock, I immediately ran down the hall, trying to catch my breath.

I dropped hopelessly down the staircase and watched the party from my spot. My mom would kill me if she knew I was here, in such a toxic environment, surrounded by half-drunk people doing whatever they please. Huffing, I start to regret agreeing to follow Lilith.

Trying to think of a way out, since I didn't know where my soon-to-be stepsister was, I felt a soft touch on my exposed shoulder. I turned to find Tyron, wearing the same cheetah jacket as the guy Quinn was dancing with earlier and Arlen's. Everything suddenly clicks into place. The cheetah jackets belong to the Hills High football team, and if Arlen and Tyron both have them, they might know the blonde guy. There are two girls standing behind Tyron, the same girls he probably had s*x with. Feeling disgusted, I immediately felt the urge to shower, as he just touched my shoulder, and his hands had definitely been to places I can't imagine.

"Do you have any idea where Quinn is?" I asked him. "She was dancing with Lord Za...," I struggled to remember the name Embry mentioned because she was infuriating me to the point where I couldn't grasp anything important.

"Do you mean Lord Zachary?" Tyron asked, smiling widely. He seems so pleased with himself after what he's just done. I'm sure I wouldn't be talking to him if it weren't for Quinn's sake. It's not like I judge people by their choices, but two girls? I bet he doesn't give a damn about them. I thought he was more than that, even though Lilith warned me about him.

"Yes, I guess," I replied, thinking that's the name.

"So he showed up? He said he wouldn't," Tyron laughs. He completely ignores my question, and I'm growing impatient with the person in front of me.

"Have you seen her?" I sighed heavily.

"No," Tyron shakes his head. "But I'm sure whatever she's doing is way more fun than hanging around the staircase," he states, and the girls giggle in unison, which only annoys me further. Tonight, it seems like everything annoys me easily. Tyron walks past me as his companions follow behind until he stops at the edge. He turned back to me with a warm smile.

"Hey! Why not come to the patio? There's a bonfire and fresh air. I've provided both," he smirks, and the girls giggle like idiots. I would say they're middle schoolers, but no! They're idiots. I'm sure they're both drunk and wild if everything seems funny to them.

"You're a god," I heard one of the girls say, praising him.

Rolling my eyes, I looked around me. Leaving this building actually sounds like a good idea. I might be able to breathe fresh air and possibly find the girls. So, I agree with Tyron's proposal and follow behind the three humans heading through the backyard sliding door, where a gigantic pool party is in full swing. There's too much skin on display, with boys half-naked in their shorts and girls wearing revealing bikinis. I swear I spotted two girls without bras.

My legs feel stiff against the concrete as my conscience mentally questions me, 'What have I got myself into?' I stand there, witnessing a s****l scene right on a daybed. To my left, two half-naked girls lie on tables while two shirtless boys greedily lick their abdomen.

To my right is a table with plastic cups arranged in a triangular shape—a game of beer pong with teenagers chanting and pouting faces as if they've been rejected from their preferred colleges.

Definitely, tonight I've seen more than I ever have in my entire life. Trying to breathe, I inhale and exhale, but before ten seconds pass, an insane person jumps from the second-floor deck into the pool.

With my lips parted and eyes dilated, I froze at the insanity. I realise I'm the only one not laughing because someone behind me says, "Give him credit. He tried a little."