Braxton

“Yeah, I thought she wasn’t going to come back,” I admit.

“From what Wyatt said, she almost didn’t,” Ry shrugs.

I thought I was hurt when I realized Heather had opened up to Wyatt. Imagine how I felt when she followed him to school on the East Coast. Well, not to the same school, but I know they hung out a lot while away.

A part of me was glad Heather got some time away, but I still felt like someone poured acid on my heart. I always thought when Heather was ready, she’d come to me, not one of my brothers. It was just one more thing that showed me, I needed to hurry up and grow up.

My freshman year in high school, I did everything I could to show Heather I wasn’t a kid anymore. Dating girls that would never matter to me, letting them spread rumors that I’m just like Wyatt. All of it was total bullshit.

If I had half the pussy that has lied on my dick, my shit would probably have fallen off by now. Have I gotten my cock wet? Yeah, I was curious and horny as fuck after starting to experiment a bit.

I needed to learn my way around things, I’m a hands on guy. Just listening to my brothers give pointers and tell their tails wasn’t enough. Besides, Heather already thinks I’m a baby. I can just see her laughing in my face if I fumble around, not knowing what to do.

Trust me, I know we’re a long way from any of that. I have to get things in order. I know what I want and I know what I plan to do to get it. Doesn’t stop me from wanting a bit of Heather’s attention now. I guess I thought fucking around would make me look cool to the one Senior I had a crush on.

It never did, I was fourteen and Heather was eighteen. Back then, she made sure to point it out every time she had a chance. I think her reminding me of our age difference stung more then than it ever did when we were little.

I’ve watched Heather become so much stronger in the last four years. When she first moved to the East Coast to go to school, I thought she was running. Yet, now that she’s back home, I get a totally different feeling.

Heather has this vibe about her, she’s…happier? Maybe not completely happy, but something has changed. I still see the sadness, but she has this air about her that says she’s in control of her life or something.

That isn’t all that has changed. While she still dresses pretty much the same as in high school, she owns that shit. She still doesn’t show off her body and those black boots are still a staple in her wardrobe.

She still wears her hair short, but it also works with her attitude. Heather gives off that hardcore biker chick vibe to the world, but I see pass it all. I know Heather.

Nonetheless, it’s good to see her kicking back and relaxing herself. She’s not the guarded teenager she used to be. At first, a part of me wondered, if it’s because she met someone in college.

Now, I seriously doubt that. Heather is still running with that lesbian bullshit. I know it’s bullshit. I would totally back off if I believed it. Heather has a right to her sexual preference. I wouldn’t try to change that if it were the case.

I just know for a fact it’s bullshit, but who am I to point that out to my competition? Guys still look at Heather, debating their chances of bringing her back over to the other side. I have an answer for them. She’s mine, and when she calls off the charade it will be because she and I will have that mutual understanding.

Tonight, yes, tonight, I plan to prove my theory. Heather has been home from college for a few days now. Uncle Rob decided to throw her a little party, which became a big party once everyone invited their friends.

I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of her all night. The way she laughs, the way her eyes light up. Yeah, New York was good to her. I even like the tats I spied peeking from under her t-shirt sleeves. That shit is hot.

I’ll be eighteen soon. I’m a grown ass man now. I can appreciate Heather like she deserves. All she has to do is let me show her.

My eyes zone in on Heather, as she starts for the guesthouse. Uncle Rob had been fixing the place up for about a year. From what mom says, Heather will be moving into the guesthouse for now.

The party has been winding down for a while. Most of my friends left without me to go to another party. I’m cool with that, this is where I want to be.

“Glad she changed her mind,” I murmur, almost to myself.

“You’re going to go after her, huh?” Ryan says beside me.

I shrug my shoulders. “Not sure yet.”

“You know you guys are four years apart? I mean, she’s legal. You’re not even close,” Ry says cautiously.

I roll my eyes in the direction of my brother. I see him press his lips, knowing he’s talking too fucking much. I turn back towards the direction Heather went in.

“When the time is right, I’m going to do what I’ve been planning to do all my life,” I reply.

There’s a moment of silence. I know Ry is weighing his words carefully. He’s the one person that knows how fast I lose my shit over Heather.

“That’s not going to be easy. She’s changed. Not in a bad way, but there’s a new wall,” Ryan muses aloud.

I smirk. “Yeah, I noticed, which is why I think it’s time,” I say, with a cocky grin on my lips.

My little brother isn’t wrong. Heather has her guard up. It went up the first day she got home, right after she got her first look at me. Like I said, I’m a grown ass man now. Don’t let the age fool you.

* * *

Heather

It hadn’t been my plan to move away in the beginning. However, one visit to New York to hang with Wyatt, my senior year in high school and I pulled the trigger. I think it was one of the best decisions I ever made.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Ernest, since that day he appeared out of the blue. Still, New York gave me a sense of peace. No one to judge me, no one to worry about if I was okay or not.

I had some time to figure me out. At least, I tried my best to figure me out. I still don’t date, nor have I had any interest to. I read a lot about being asexual. Until a few days ago, I thought that was the category I fell into.

Now, I’m just confused as fuck. Of all the guys to remind me that I’m a woman, why in the fuck does it have to be an eighteen-year-old? I’m going on twenty-two for crying out loud.

I’m supposed to see Brax as my little brother. Shit, there’s nothing little about him. I mean, damn. When did all of that happen? I feel like a fucking perv.

My mind has been spinning since he walked into the kitchen the other day. First, there was the boom of his voice that shook me to my core. I was expecting John or Noah to walk into the kitchen after hearing Braxton’s voice call out.

“Mom, I’m starving,” he had bellowed through the house, causing my spine to tingle.

I was shocked by my reaction, but the moment my eyes landed on Braxton, my mind was blown. Braxton has to be about six-four now, even closer to six-five. He looks like he does nothing but workout.

Braxton could stand in a room with his older brothers easily and you wouldn’t know that he’s yet to turn eighteen. The lanky kid from just last year is completely gone.

His face lit up when he saw me, standing in the middle of the kitchen, shoving one of Aunt Cass’s brownies into my mouth. I didn’t get a chance to wipe the crumbs from my lips, before Brax had me lifted up off of my feet. I could barely breathe within his tight bear hug.

My entire body came to life, as his cologne engulfed me. The hard planes of his body called for my body to melt into his. I was purely mortified.

“When’d you get back,” he crooned into my neck.

I wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor and slip away into a far corner. I actually shivered, as his breath fanned my neck. Sensing my discomfort, Braxton placed me back on my feet.

“I…I just got in,” I stammered like an idiot.

“Brax, back up off the Lass. Ye look like you’re about to hump her leg,” Aunt Cass chuckles.

I wanted to palm my face and groan. When I chanced a look up at Brax, he was blushing, but his eyes were on me intently. The heat I saw there surprised the hell out of me, but what really shocked me was my reaction to that look.

My pulse quickened, and I felt lightheaded, all at once. Braxton didn’t move an inch, I knew the moment my reaction registered with him. His lips curled into this cocksure grin and his eyes rolled over my body.

Even now, just thinking about it a shiver runs up my spine. I think I need my head examined. I reach for the back of my neck, as the hairs stand up.

“Here, I have another beer for you,” I nearly jump out of my skin, as that voice rumbles from behind me.

I turn to find Braxton looking down at me. It’s crazy, I’m a little over five-eight. When the hell did, little Braxton, get so much taller than me. I mean he was around my height, when I left for college.

The only thing familiar about Braxton is the bit of boy left in his face. Just a bit, not much at all. His copper hair is doing this sexy thing where its falling into his eyes in the front, with the sides cut low.

Every time he gives that wolfish smile, like he’s doing now, those full lips frame perfectly white teeth. I have to tear my eyes away. I look at the floor, chiding myself on my stupidity.

He’s a kid, Heather. A freaking kid. He hasn’t even turned eighteen. Why are you reacting like this?

I nod to myself, pulling up the wall I’ve been building for the last four days. I inhale a deep breath, looking back up at him. A beer dangles in front of me from his long fingertips.

I frown. “What are you doing with those,” I point to the beers he’s holding in his other hand.

“Saw you heading this way, so I grabbed a few and followed. Thought we could hang out for a while,” he shrugs his broad shoulders.

I sigh and rub my forehead. “Brax, you’re not even old enough to drink.”

He snorts. “If you don’t tell, I won’t either. Besides, I’m not going out tonight. I just have to walk across the street. Mom won’t kill me for that. I was shit faced the entire Christmas break, while in Ireland.”

I laugh and it feels so good to. I’ve been a bit uptight, since arriving in California. I left all my demons here. I’m more than aware that they can, and most likely will resurface. Actually, it’s inevitable, my past is what dragged me back. Pushing all of those nagging thoughts back, I focus on Braxton.

“Your uncles had a lot to do with that I’m sure,” I say through my laughter. “How are your crazy cousins?”

“Still crazy,” Brax shrugs.

I reach for the beer he’s still holding up in offering. This is Braxton, I won’t be telling him what to do. There’s no point in arguing.

I walk over to the leather couch my dad placed in the guest house, during the remodel. I know he did the place over just for me, but it’s so butch. I sigh to myself, as I look around.

It’s my own fault. My dad never asked if I’m gay or not, which sort of hurts. He just went along with it, like everyone else has. Honestly, almost everyone has.

I plop down onto the couch, taking a long pull from the beer Brax gave me. I’ve already had a few tonight, along with a few tumblers of Irish Whiskey with my dad. I’d say I’m on the right side of nice, as Faith would say. At least, I am for now. A few more beers and I’ll be tipping over the line. I kick off my boots and curl my legs under me, digging my toes into the leather cushions.

Braxton takes a seat beside me. I note that it’s not that far away from me. I also notice that I’m not put out by it, the way I usually would be if it were anyone else.

Instead of moving away because I’m uncomfortable, I want to fidget away because…yeah, this is uncomfortable, but a totally different kind of uncomfortable. It’s like I can feel my skin pulsing or humming or something.

Not in a creepy way, but in a way that makes me want to move closer to Brax. I push the feeling to the back of my mind as best I can and focus on my beer. I drain the bottle as if things will make more sense when I get to the bottom.

“Cool party,” Braxton says, breaking the silence.

I chuckle. “If you’re going to hang with me. You’re not going to become some douche,” I say turning to look him in the eyes.

His cheeks turn a little pink. I think I’ve just slipped over the line. I can feel the alcohol coursing through my veins.

I lean to bump his shoulder playfully, causing that crooked smile. It’s so swoon worthy and I’m not even a swooner. I reach to push his hair out of his forehead.

“You’re growing up nice, Kid,” I smile at him. “Bet the girls are still going crazy over you.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I do okay,” he says through that smile.

“Are you kidding? From what I’ve heard you’re the baby heartbreaker,” I laugh.

“Whatever,” Brax frowns.

I study his face. I can always tell when Brax is agitated. I didn’t mean for my comment to change his mood. He looks down at his beer, before bringing it to his lips to drain it.

“What? I didn’t mean to offend you,” I say softly.

“You of all people shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” he says a little harshly, taking me back a bit.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, folding my arms over my chest.

“Nice tats,” he mutters, looking at both of my arms.

“Don’t change the subject,” I want to commit to the conversation he started. I didn’t like the accusation in his voice.

Braxton blows out a breath and pops the cap off another beer, handing it over to me. He then moves to open another for himself. I take a sip, watching him and waiting for his response.

“You’re not into girls. That rumor started in high school, you never tried to correct it. You just let everyone say what they wanted to say,” Braxton turns to me and locks eyes.

I don’t know what makes me deny his words. I have a few friends back in New York that know the truth. They were the ones that were willing to ask. So, I told them the truth. Yet, here I am about to lie to one of my oldest friends.

“Who says it isn’t true?” I tilt my head and watch him.

Braxton narrows his eyes at me. He turns to lean forward, placing his beer on the mixed coffee table ottoman. When he turns back to me, his face is more serious than I’ve ever seen it.

“Play with everyone else, but don’t try that shit with me. I know you. I know you better than anyone else. I came in here thinking we could be real with each other the way we used to be. Clearly, one of us has grown up and the other one hasn’t,” he stands, giving me one more once over.

Pointing between us, his words keep coming. “You feel this just like I do. You’re not gay, Heather, because you’re my other half. You’re the rib I’m missing. I guess I was wrong, we’re still not ready,” with that Brax walks out.

I’m left sitting on the couch with my mouth hanging open. I look down into my lap, wondering did I have way too much to drink. Or did an eighteen-year-old just hand me my face on a platter?

In my head, I know nothing can happen between us. Braxton is way too young for me. So why in the hell is my chest burning?

What the hell just happened?