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Damaged: A Dark Bad Boy Romance by Evelyn Glass (12)

 

I waited outside Kylie’s dressing room as she cleaned off. Normally, I’d hop in the shower with her, getting a little more time to explore her body, but I was feeling off. That moment Julie gave us with her words about “keeping it on film” were haunting me. If Julie could sense we were more than just co-stars with a strong attraction to one another, how quickly would people figure out we were actually stepbrother and stepsister?

 

There was a part of me, though, a part I had been wrestling with since we made the decision to keep our “relationship” going, that still wanted more. In that month I had been screwing her, I hadn’t let myself go past the business or the on-stage bedroom. But that didn’t keep me from wondering about where she slept, what she ate, who she was seeing…What she did when she wasn’t with me was a complete mystery. And I was determined to find out more.

 

Kylie walked out, her hair still wet, a backpack slung over her shoulders. She looked at me with tired, but amused eyes. They danced as she smiled and said, “Well, that was interesting…”

 

I ran my hand through my hair, allowing myself to mess it up even further. “It wasn’t interesting – it was hot. So hot. I couldn’t help myself near the end of that.”

 

I watched as she fidgeted with the straps of her backpack. She looked so young, so innocent. I was reminded of walking her home after school and how I would offer to carry her bag for her so it wouldn’t hurt her back. Scenes of sidewalks, homecoming, watching her like a hawk in the locker-filled hallways flooded my brain.

 

I reached for her bag and twisted it off her shoulders. She gave me a surprised look that lifted her eyebrows off her lids. She wasn’t sure what to make of this. I tried to make it less awkward by offering a nervous, “Let me take that for you.”

 

“You don’t have to. Plus, it’s heavy.” She was right. The backpack was stacked with books that felt more like bricks lined up. For some reason, I always imagined her bringing along a notebook and a coffee cup to class, not whatever was in this bag.

 

I laughed as I pretended to be unable to lift it, “Jesus, Kylie! What the hell do you have in here? A dead body?”

 

She cracked a smile, the tension easing over her as we tried to pretend to be normal coworkers, normal friends, maybe even normal relations. “It’s my debate class texts and notes. I’ve got class in about twenty minutes, and I was studying up on different strategies. Whoever wins the debates gets an A for the class, so it’s kind of a big deal for me.”

 

I was instantly impressed by her and her drive. She brought books to her porn scene. She planned on studying between her first lesbian experience. I had to give it to her – she was determined to make it through classes. Suddenly, my interest in her wasn’t just about the little things. I wanted the whole picture of my stepsister’s current life. I wanted to know what made her so Kylie.

 

“Can I give you a lift?” I knew she had taken a cab to the scene today. She noted a few days ago that her car had broken down. When I offered to take a look at it, she shied away giving me an excuse about some auto body shop. I knew then that she was putting up boundaries and laying down lines. But I still felt like I owed it to her to give her my services.

 

She stammered a bit as she looked out the window. Her ride hadn’t arrived yet and campus was at least fifteen minutes away. She was going to cut it close if she didn’t take me up on my offer. “Sure, if you wouldn’t mind. That would be great.”

 

I walked her outside to my black Audi. I was proud of owning it, but she barely registered the luxury car. Whenever I made it out to a club or drove around the strip, girls were lining up to get a ride with me in the driver’s seat. But not Kylie. To her, it was just another thing she wasn’t privileged enough to get. My stomach turned as I remembered I was the reason why life was so hard for her.

 

She guided me back to campus, making small talk on the way. She pointed out her favorite pizza place, the club that used to work with when Daniel employed her, the empty university football field. Then her dorm appeared. The modern building with it’s boxy, sand colored walls and curved roof were nothing I had expected of a university. Even the palm trees lining the brick paved roads had challenged me.

 

“I have never seen a college campus before.” I hated to admit that.

 

“Well, this is it. I live on the fourth floor with my roommate, Lana, but she’s never in. She’s always with a guy or out at her parent’s place in Reno. I really only see her at classes.”

 

She had mentioned Lana before as I tried to think back to the night in the club. I guessed that the girl who watched us go after I punched the guy on the dance floor was her roommate. By my mental image of her, she looked the part of the roommate who had guys waiting for her at every turn. I sympathized with Kylie, “Must be lonely.”

 

“Yes and no. She’s a good friend when she’s around. She gives great advice and has my back.” She looked up at her window from our place in the car and sighed, “Plus, I’m not really into the friend relationship. I do my own thing, and I’m okay with that.” She was lying, clearly. She was still the lonely girl I needed to defend back in high school. Some things never change. Kylie noticed the silence and filled the void as quickly as possible, “But I’m busy. I mean with our work and my classes, I’m always out somewhere doing something. It’s lucky that I’m still managing to pull straight-As.”

 

“Straight-As? Seriously? Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen even one of those on a report card.” It was true. While I knew I was smart, I knew my intelligence never really translated all that well to the classroom. Plus, I had an authority issue. I didn’t play nice with stuck up, know-it-all teachers.

 

Kylie looked down at her bag, the outline of books catching her attention. She looked forward as if into the future. “I just wanna graduate and make a difference in this world. I’m tired of feeling insignificant. I wanna use my degree to change things for kids in poverty.”

 

I was impressed. I had heard people talk about wanting to have an impact on the world, but no one meant it really. She looked as if she could strap on a bulletproof vest and head out towards a warzone. In that moment, I knew I would never know someone else like her. She was special, truly special.

 

Girls and guys alike stared grouping at the car as we idled outside her building. Kylie watched bemused at the ladies who gave the car the double take and then turned to one another to gossip. “This must be a chick magnet?” She grinned widely.

 

“You could say that.” A young guy of only eighteen started to peek around the back of the car for a closeup, admiring the sleek paint job. “It certainly gets attention.”

 

Kylie added, her voice lowering, “You get attention.”

 

“And you don’t? You’re pretty much the entire package. Brains and beauty.” I wanted to wipe away any self-doubt she may have. She had come a long way from the girl who awkwardly walked towards me in that bikini on our first day of the shoot. She took longer, softer steps, her head tilted higher and her clothes fitting tighter. But I could tell it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t felt the way I did about her.

 

Kylie’s cheeks blushed a bit. I’ve never seen her do that. I reached out my palm to touch the soft curve of her jaw. We lingered for a moment, a familiar pull washing over us as I used my other hand to grip tighter on the steering wheel. I wanted her just as she was – carrying a backpack, her hair tied up in a bun, her cheeks flushed from my words. But this wasn’t going to be my time. She had much more important things to do.

 

She shocked me as she cut through the silence to offer me an opportunity, “Why don’t you come to class with me? You can sit in back and watch the debates. A lot of freshman in the program attend, so it wouldn’t be unheard of.”

 

“Me? A freshman?” She looked me up and down. I was long past eighteen. My tattoos, the scars, the tight black t-shirt and jeans…I looked like I belonged on the strip, not in a lecture hall.

 

Still she begged me a bit, “Come on, Will. Just step in for a few minutes. If you get bored or something, slip out the back.” She stepped out of the car, not giving me a chance to argue any further. But I didn’t want to. She had called me Will for the first time since our first scene when she accidentally shouted it on camera. A bit of her walls were crumbling.

 

I looked down at my keys resting in the ignition as I hesitated. I didn’t want to give her the impression that we had a shot of being more than hidden lovers. But I still wanted to see this part of her life up close for myself. I turned the keys and exited out the driver’s door, following her down the paved path past the dorm buildings and science halls.

 

She was walking at a fast clip, obviously worried she would be late. I reached out my hand to slow her down, to give me an opportunity it to catch up to her. But she didn’t let go. She held onto me tighter, our hands connecting us in a more intimate way than we had ever been linked. As she tugged a bit at me, I felt lighter, freer. I felt almost natural, as if I weren’t faking it being here on a college campus with a girlfriend and her backpack. I was alive, and I was with Kylie.

 

Her debate class was located in a large auditorium, perfect for someone like me to sneak into the back while she took her place at a table on stage. We had made it with seconds to spare as the professor’s assistant shut the doors to signal the start of classes. He didn’t notice the grown man sitting in the aisle seat with his sunglasses still on and his head tucked towards his chest. What I was doing almost felt wrong, as if I were stealing knowledge from those who paid their tuition entry fee.

 

As the professor explained the rules of the debate, I watched Kylie stiffen. She was shifting modes from Kylie the porn star to Kylie the rockstar student. She pulled out a large binder from her bag and began taking small notes in the corners of the pages. When the student from the opposite table stood, she stared him down as if she knew she had this; she was going to win no matter what.

 

Then, it was her turn to speak. Her group whispered into her ears as she nodded in their direction and made her final notes. She walked to the podium, her sneakers making squeaking sounds as they traced the slippery stage floor. She placed her binder down, adjusted the microphone, and then looked up at the room. I could feel her eyes find my place in the back as she centered her argument on me.

 

When she spoke, she did it with confidence. There were no stutters, no stammers, no unnecessary pauses. She spoke quickly, as if she had so many important things to say and a limited time to get it out. You could feel the passion ooze out of her as she rested her hands upon the podium and leaned in.

 

“What my opponent fails to say is that the proposition he puts forward won't only cost taxpayers here and abroad hundreds of millions of dollars per year, but it will also fail to address the problem at hand. What we need is real solutions for real people. By putting personal politics before human issues, we lose our ability to lead.” She closed her black binder, took a second to scan the room once more, and then stepped off the stage. The entire room watched in awe. She had nailed it for her team; she had managed to blow everyone away.

 

I began to clap, uncaring if it were the appropriate thing to do. The rest of the room joined in with me, surrounding the theater with the noise just for her. When the professor gestured for us to calm down, it dimmed but I could see her beaming up at me. She wasn’t the kind of girl to get that sort of attention. She was flourishing in it.

 

I watched the rest of the debates in a state of an uneasy wonderment. How could a girl like that be with me, how could she let me do the things I did to her? I thought of our films, the men and women watching her as she's defiled over and over again. I was making her an object when she was obviously so much more. And even as I looked down at her now, I couldn’t help but want her right here and now on this stage with the entire class watching us.

 

My stomach turned, the walls closed in on me, her glances up at me became too much. I ducked out of the seat, through the doors, and outside the campus. The night sky concealed me as I made my escape from the girl and who she should really be.  

 

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