Ashley
I don't know what to do. I don't know if there's anything I can do. This entire situation is beyond me. I'm in too deep and I'm drowning and that's it. It's done. I'm done.
Maybe I can pretend none of this ever happened. Maybe it didn't? It might have all been just a dream. If I go to sleep, take a nap, and wake up, I'll realize that every little part of this was a figment of my imagination. It's not a crime to fantasize about sleeping with your stepbrother, right? It's not actually a crime to sleep with your stepbrother either, though. I'm not sure that logic is going to work for me right now.
I can lie, though. I can say it's wrong. I can refuse to go and if Jake really does tell my parents, then I'll just say he's the one that's lying. Who are they going to believe, me or him? I'd like to think they'll believe me, but Jake has pretty damning evidence to the contrary. Why did I even take that picture of myself naked? That was a stupid idea. Stupid, stupid stupid!
For someone who's supposed to be smart, I'm not sure how I could do something so dumb. This entire situation is dumb, though.
No, it's not. It's not dumb. I've been having a nice time. I really enjoy hanging out with Ethan. He's nice. He wouldn't blackmail me like this, even if we're only doing this for a week. If he was the one who had gotten the picture instead of Jake, he never would have told anyone or shown anyone. This is what I want to believe, but I know Ethan, too. He's not exactly a saint. I feel like he still has some sense of decency, though. I know he does.
My options right now are that I can pretend none of this ever happened, or... I can admit that it did. I can accept the fact that Jake has a hold over me, that I accidentally gave it to him, and I can deal with it.
How? By going and doing what he wants me to do. Is it worth it, though?
If I do, I know it'll hurt. I know it's wrong. I don't want to be some object for him to use for his own sexual gratification. That's never what I wanted.
I know that sounds strange, because it seems like maybe that's what Ethan and I have been doing for the past few days, but it's not. We've been having fun, too. He's taught me things that I don't know if anyone else could have taught me. He's shown me that things I thought were wrong aren't actually bad when they happen between two people who care about each other, and he's given me a reason to want to find someone who can treat me...
...just like he does.
That's it, isn't it? Ethan has set the bar for me, given me expectations and an understanding of myself that I never really understood before, and that's it. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It makes me want to find someone like him, or someone better, but I don't know if there is anyone better.
Why can't I just have him? I know it's not that easy. Life isn't that easy, and our situation isn't that easy. Nothing is easy. Why does this have to be so difficult, though? It hurts.
I want to remember, though. I want to remember every part of what happened between us. I don't want to forget it. I don't want anyone to tell me it's bad or wrong or that we shouldn't have done that. Deep down I know we shouldn't have, but I'm also very thankful that we did. I would rather cherish the memories from the past few days than to let them become tainted with unwanted criticism and disgusted looks from everyone around me.
And so I only have one option, don't I? If I don't want anyone else to know, I have to do what Jake wants me to do. That's the only way. It's the only thing I can think of. Either that, or somehow invent a time machine, go back, and stop myself from ever mistakenly texting my ex-boyfriend in the first place.
I should have deleted his number from my phone when we broke up that day. I was holding out hope before, though. I thought he might change his mind, that he'd text me and apologize, but then things happened with Ethan and I forgot all about that.
I don't want Jake to text me now. I never want to speak with him again. I guess I have to, though. I guess I'm going to secretly buy a plane ticket and go see him tomorrow.
It's only a few days, right? That's what I thought when Ethan and I started our stepbrother with benefits situation, too, though. Apparently a few days can be a long time. A few days can change your entire life.
Someone knocks on my door. I ignore them and bury my face in my pillow. I hope they go away. I hope everyone goes away. I can't deal with this right now. I feel physically ill. My stomach hurts. I want to be left alone.
"Hey, open up," Ethan says.
Go away, Ethan. I think this, but I don't say it.
He waits for a few seconds, then knocks again. "Wow, I make you pancakes and deliver them and everything and you're not even going to open the door? I see how it is."
"I don't feel good!" I say, shouting at the door.
"Yeah, I get it. That's why I brought them up here for you!" Ethan says, shouting back.
Someone's going to hear him. Or me. They'll hear one of us. I don't know why he won't listen. He's never listened to anyone in his entire life, though, has he? That's part of who he is. That's part of why he's trouble. I know exactly why Ethan Colton has a reputation as a bad boy. He's being bad right now even if it looks like he's trying to be nice.
"They're chocolate chip, Ashley," he says, pounding on my bedroom door again. "Real fucking melty chocolate, too. More chocolate chips than any one person should ever eat for breakfast. These things are smothered in chocolate."
Chocolate chip pancakes? I wish he hadn't done that. I wish I couldn't imagine mouthfuls of fluffy pancakes and melted chocolate right now. He's making this too difficult for me.
"What about the syrup?" I ask him. If he forgot the syrup, I can fight this. I have some semblance of willpower left. I really do.
"Yeah, I've got it right here," he says. "The whole fucking jug, just for you. Use the entire thing. I don't care. You're the one who's sick."
I'm not actually sick. Not in the way he thinks. My heart is sick, but I don't know if that counts.
I roll my way off the bed and stand up, then rush to the door. When I open it, Ethan is standing there. There's nothing in his hands.
"You lied to me!" I say, making a face at him. "I thought you made pancakes, but you lied. I can't believe you did that. I hate--"
He claps a hand over my mouth. "Stop right there, Princess. Close your mouth for a second and look down."
I push his hand away and glare at him, but I look down, too. There's... Oh wow.
On a small tray stand, like the ones that people use for breakfast in bed, which I suppose is what this is, there's a plate of pancakes just as chocolatey and melty as Ethan said. Next to that there's the grey jug of fresh maple syrup, plus forks and knives, and another plate with sausage on it. To the side are two empty glasses and a half gallon carton of orange juice.
"That's too many pancakes," I tell him. "I can't eat all of those."
"Greedy much?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at me. "You going to share some with me or what?"
"There's only one plate," I say.
"So what? There's two forks and two knives. I think we can share. I swear I don't have cooties, Princess."
"Cooties," I say, rolling my eyes. "Are we in second grade again?"
"Might as well be. Who the fuck locks someone out of their room like that and refuses to answer the door?"
"Um, you?" I say. "I"m pretty sure you've done it plenty of times before."
"Yeah yeah, let me do that over," he says. "You're the good girl here, Princess. You're supposed to be polite and nice and shit. Why are you being a bitch?"
"Did you just call me a bitch?" I ask, trying not to laugh. The way he said it sounded funny, though. Maybe I should be offended, but I'm not.
"If the shoe fits," he says. Ethan glances down at my feet. "Fuck, I guess it doesn't. You're not wearing any. Sorry about that. You mind putting some shoes on so I can call you a bitch again?"
I stick my tongue out at him and make a face, but he stops me. He stops me by putting his hands on my hips and pulling me close, then touching the tip of his nose to mine.
"Did I do something to make you upset?" he asks, hushed. "When I came out of the shower you were gone. Are you alright?"
I blush. We're close. This is too close, and he's holding me too close. What if someone sees us? What if my mom or his dad comes upstairs and they see us like this? What then?
I like it, though. I like how he's worried, and how he's holding me like he cares. It's cute and sweet even though I can feel the telltale signs of his erection poking at my stomach. Ethan Colton only has a certain amount of sweetness in him; the rest of him is raw sex and arrogance.
"You have an erection," I tell him, wrinkling my nose.
"Holy fuck, I'm trying to be slightly less of an asshole right now. Did you really have to point that out?"
I laugh, then I kiss him quick and slip away from him. "Yes," I say. "I did. And it's not you. You didn't do anything. I just don't feel very well right now. I don't want to... I don't want to have sex, Ethan. Not today. Please."
"I get that I have a raging hard-on that probably almost broke one of your ribs, but I came up here to have breakfast with you, Princess. Nothing else. If I had ulterior motives, I'd just tell you straight up."
"If that's really why you came, then you can come in," I say. "I accept your breakfast proposal."
"Way to make it sound dirty," he says.
I don't understand what he means at first, but then, um... proposal, proposition, propositioning for sex? I feel like chocolate chip pancakes are a pretty good bargaining chip for something like that, too. Especially Ethan's pancakes. If this were any other time, I'd probably gladly indulge in some indecent proposal in exchange for this meal...
Not now, though. Probably not ever again. We need to stop.
That doesn't mean I need to reject him completely, though. Does it? I think it probably does, but I don't want it to.
"Go lay down," Ethan says, smacking my butt. "Get in bed, Princess. You need to rest up and get better. Who the fuck gets sick their first week of summer break? That's bullshit."
I jump up and spin around, glaring at him. "You just spanked me!" I say.
"Better get back in bed quick before I do it again!" he says, staring hard at me.
I roll my eyes and slowly walk towards the bed, sashaying my hips side to side. Ethan goes to spank me again, but I see him out of the corner of my eye and I dodge and jump away, then scamper fast to the bed. I sneak under the covers and wait for him to join me.
He bends down to grab the food tray, then hefts it up and brings it over. He sits it above my lap, pulling the legs of the tray out so it's more like a table. I sit with my back against the headboard, a pillow propping me up. Ethan goes to close the door.
"Locked?" he asks.
"Why?" I ask. "If you aren't planning on um... seducing me, then I think it's fine to leave it unlocked."
He shrugs. "Have it your way, Princess."
I realize why it might be better to have it locked a few seconds after he closes the door and steps further into my room, though. I'm in pajamas, sitting under my blankets, and Ethan's in pajamas, too. He's about to join me on the bed. Even though this isn't exactly supposed to be sexual, if our parents come up and see us like this, um...
I don't know. I don't want to know. It's still early. They probably aren't awake yet. It'll probably be fine.
I kind of want to lay in bed with Ethan, too. I kind of wish I could cuddle with him. I wish I could tell him about what happened, about what Jake said, about the trouble I'm in, and I wish he could help me.
He can't, though. I know that. This is all my fault.
Ethan goes to the wall opposite my bed and flips on the TV, then snatches up the remote and brings it over to me. He sits in the bed, above the covers, leaning back against the headboard just like I am. We're close, but separate, too; there are blankets and the legs of a breakfast-in-bed tray separating us.
He toys around with the remote until he brings up our family shared Netflix account. We each have special profiles to keep ourselves separate. His finger hovers over the selector. He's going to pick his profile, or that's what it looks like, but at the last minute he switches to mine.
"What are you doing?" I ask. "Are you snooping on my Netflix profile?"
"Nah," he says. "I've already snooped on it before. You need to watch some better shows. What's with all the girly shit?"
"Um, I'm a girl, Ethan. Have you not realized this? I thought you would have figured it out by now, especially considering the last couple of days."
"Holy fuck, you're a girl?" he says, eyes wide. "No fucking way. Tell me more, Princess."
"You're so dumb," I say, giggling.
"Yeah, well, I get that a lot," he says, grinning at me. "I need a study buddy or some shit. Maybe one who can help me over Skype. All the girls I ask to come help me study think I just want to fuck them. What's up with that?"
"And how many girls have you asked to help you study?" I ask, glancing over and narrowing my eyes.
"None," he says. "Not yet, anyways. There's this really sexy chick who asked me recently, though. I've kind of got a thing for her, but she's off limits. She said she'd help me, and if I did we could fool around with video chat after. You think I should take her up on it?"
"What kind of thing do you have for her?" I ask him.
"Nothing serious, Princess. Don't worry. You're still my number one."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask. "I thought we had rules..."
"Yeah," he says. "I meant like... you're my stepsister, right? We're like family or something. I got your back, yo."
"Oh," I say, then I scrunch up my brow. "Did you just say 'yo' to me? Who says that?"
He shrugs. "No clue. It seemed appropriate at the time. You think I was laying it on too thick?"
"I don't know," I say, but I'm not exactly answering his question. I pause for a second. Should I ask him? Yes, I decide to. "Ethan, if you weren't my stepbrother, would you date me?"
"Huh? Where'd that come from?"
"I just... am I the kind of girl that a guy wants to date? Or am I just the kind of girl that guys sleep with while they're looking for someone better?"
"You think there's someone better than you?" he asks.
"I don't know. Probably, right?"
"Nah," he says. "Listen, Princess, this is how it is. I know all about this. I'll tell you, alright?"
"Alright," I say.
"Every girl is perfect. Each and every single one of them. There's never going to be anyone better than you, because you're already perfect. Got it?"
"I'm definitely not perfect," I tell him.
"Nah," he says. "You are. You just don't realize it yet. That's the thing, though. It's hard to figure this shit out. You can't do it on your own. You need some help. When you find the right guy for you, you'll know it. You'll just wake up someday and realize that you're perfect, and you know what? That's all because of you, because you're perfect, and you found someone to be perfect with. The guy's probably going to be some random dude, but he'll be cool, too. It's fine if he's kind of screwy, because he'll have some other positive qualities, like letting you know you're perfect."
"You're refusing to answer my question on purpose, aren't you?" I ask, smiling. "You're going off on a tangent!"
"Maybe," he says, grinning. "The point of the matter here is that you're the kind of girl every guy wants to date, but they don't always realize it at first. Any guy who would sleep with you just because he's got a dick is basically just a dick, and you don't want to spend time with someone like that. He can't see a good thing even when she's right in front of him and he's got his cock inside her, up close and personal."
"Except you, of course," I say. "You're the exception, huh?"
"Nah, I'm no exception, Princess. I know a good thing when I see it. I know that girls like you deserve guys a million times better than me, though. You'll find him some day, too. You'll bring him home, and I'll meet him, and I'll shake his hand and say 'Fuck you. You ever hurt my sister and I'll beat your fucking face in.' It'll be real sweet and romantic like that."
"Oh, it sounds great," I say, laughing. "I'm sure he'll love meeting you. I can't wait."
"If he's cool enough, I'll show him how to make good pancakes, too," Ethan says. "Maybe. Maybe I'll just keep that shit for myself. Need to have a trump card to knock him down a peg if he tries to one up me, right?"
I stick my tongue out at him and laugh. Ethan slices a piece of pancake away quick and smears it in the melted chocolate coating our shared plate, then he stuffs it in my mouth before I realize it. I glare at him, but then I taste it, and... Oh my God this is amazing. It's so good! I want to eat these every day for the rest of my life. That's probably not very healthy, but I'd exercise extra to make up for it.
I chew and swallow, living in heaven for every single second of it.
Ethan smiles, watching me. "Good?" he asks.
"Very good," I say. "What about you?"
"Haven't tried them yet. We still need syrup. Add as much as you want. I'll pour us some juice."
"Alright," I say. "But um... Ethan?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I didn't mean that. I... I meant when are you going to find your perfect girl? Do you know?"
"Nah," he says. "Relationships aren't for me, Princess. I'm just a cocky prick."
"Maybe someday you'll find her," I say. "Maybe?"
"Yeah, maybe," he says with a shrug. "Maybe I already found her and I fucked it up. I wouldn't be surprised."
"If you did, you could tell her," I say. "I bet she would accept your apology if you said you were sorry."
"I don't say sorry, Princess. Not sure if you've realized that yet. I'm too stubborn. I do things my way. If she doesn't want to go along with it, she can go fuck herself."
"Maybe she will!" I say, laughing. "And she'll send you a picture of it, and say 'You see what you're missing, Ethan? Stop being such a jerk and come over here. I'm tired of fucking myself. You do it for me.' It could happen."
"Whoa! Did Little Miss Perfect just swear? Holy fuck."
"I did not!" I say, protesting. "It's just a verb. I was using it as a verb, which is acceptable."
"I feel like we've had this conversation before," he says.
"Me too. Do you remember who won last time?"
"Fuck if I know. You're the smart one. You should remember."
"Smart people don't always have good memories," I say, rolling my eyes at him. "If it's up to me, I'm going to say that I won, though. I'm still Little Miss Perfect and a good girl."
"Good," Ethan says, smiling. "Now eat your damn breakfast before it gets cold. Where's the maple syrup? Seriously, Princess, I give you one job. Just one job! What's up with that?"
"You need to calm yourself down, Ethan Colton!" I say, snatching up the syrup jug and waving it at him like a weapon. "Patience!"
"Yeah yeah. Whatever you say," he says. "Hey, what are we watching?"
"I don't know. You pick something," I say, pouring syrup onto our pancakes.
"No idea why I clicked on your Netflix profile, then," he says, grumbling.
"Pick something from my watch list. I have a lot on there."
"It's all dumb girly shit, isn't it?" he asks, clicking through to check it out. "Oh wait. Whoa. Sons of Anarchy? You got a naughty streak or something?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I ask.
"Twenty bucks says I probably already do."
"Is that a bet?"
"Nah, you don't want to bet with me, Princess. I play to win."
We start watching the first episode of the series while sitting in bed and eating pancakes together. The sausage, too. Plus orange juice. Everything is good. It's really good. When we're finished, I pick up the tray and put it on the floor next to my bed.
Now it's just us. Ethan and I, laying in bed together, side by side. I'm cuddled under the blankets and he's laying above them, but we're still really close. He inches a little closer to me and we lay our heads on the same pillow. He puts his hand by my leg, and I move my hand under the covers closer to his. I touch his hand with my fingers, sort of. I'm beneath the blankets and he's above them, but that's alright. This is fine, right? It's not bad to do this. No one can ever see it, anyways. It's hidden from everyone. No one will ever know.
Ethan teases the palm of my hand with his finger, tracing patterns on me above the blanket. Then he reaches over and squeezes my thigh quick, fingers gripping my leg through the covers. I nudge my head against his, and he nudges me back.
"I'll go get soup later, alright? What's wrong with you? You want some cold medicine or something?"
"Just soup would be nice," I say. "Will you have some, too? Can we stay up here and have it?"
"Yeah, sure, why not?" he asks. "Sounds good. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, Princess. You'll feel better in no time. Then we'll go to the beach or something."
I wish that were true. I'm not sure if I'll feel better or not. I want to believe him, though.