Page 2 of His Stubborn Girl

“Why not? It’s a good way to meet people.”

“There are plenty of other ways to meet people, Torre. In your classes and at the dorms. You can even join a club. Go give pickleball a try.”

Pickleball?I may love tumbling and practicing my jumps and splits, but I’m not really a sports kind of girl.

“I don’t understand what the problem is with me joining one. They do charity events and have socials. It’s like a built-in friend group right off the bat.”

“And they’re all bitches.” He grabs a stack of shirts from his bag and takes them over to his dresser. There’s a picture of our family perched on top, and it gives me a good kick in the gut, reminding me of how sick I am. “You don’t need to buy your friends, Torrin.”

His opinion seems a bit hypocritical. Maybe he’s forgetting the fact that his last girlfriend wasn’t just a member of a sorority, but the president of the Deltas. The image of them together—of what he was doing to her—is the reason I’m suffering from all these fucked-up feelings. I’m still haunted daily. Breaking out into a sweat. A throbbing ache forming between my legs. Jealousy grabbing onto my nerves and nearly choking me to death.

“If they’re all bitches, then how come you’ve fucked so many of them?” Although, I won’t argue the fact that Stacey was a bitch. She didn’t like me from the get-go. It wasn’t until she learned who my brother was that she plastered on her fake smile and pretended to be my friend. Then I turned into her favorite incoming freshman. The one she made an example of for all the others.

“Watch your mouth.” He whips his head around, casting me a glare that twists me up further.

“I’m eighteen, Lukas. I can sayfuckif I want to.” I think I’m past the point of putting a quarter in the swear jar for saying a cuss word. Although, he still sees me as a little kid. And probably always will. “And I’ve seen all the pics online so you can’t deny it.” All the many girls who he’s dated. I’ve studied every image. Stalked their social media pages. Envying every single one of them. Wondering what it was about them that drew him in.

“Just because some girl posts a picture of me doesn’t mean I’ve slept with her. And believe me, if I were looking for a girlfriend, I wouldn’t be looking on sorority row.”

“Really? Wasn’t Stacey in a sorority?” It’s obvious he needs his memory jogged.

“She wasn’t a girlfriend. She was a…distraction.”

A distraction? It seemed a lot more intense than that. The entire time I was visiting with him he was consumed by her. I’m not even sure whether he came to my cheerleading tryouts to support me or to get his dick sucked. It definitely seemed like the latter from what I witnessed. And she was bragging to all the girls about how she was dating the great Lukas Williams, and how they were so perfect together. She could see it lasting all the way down the aisle. A thought that had me wanting to slap her across the face. My entire system was revolting the idea, and I knew I couldn’t cheer on the same team as her.

“Whatever she was or wasn’t to you, she’s in a sorority.” And I can’t tell you how grateful I am that he called it quits with her. “So, my point is that you obviously don’t have a problem with sorority girls.”

“You’re not joining one. End of discussion.” He storms back over to his bag, his attention returning to unpacking.

I don’t understand what his problem is. And just who does he think he is to tell me what I can and can’t do? He’s not my parent. He’s not the one paying my tuition. And he doesn’t get to boss me around anymore.

“I’m an adult, Lukas, and you’re not my dad. You don’t really have a say.”

The darkness that crosses his face, making every single one of his features rigid, sends a shiver dancing across my shoulders. It’s the second time I’ve seen that look in his eyes. Though, I almost see it on repeat every night in my dreams. And in those dreams, I’m on my knees, begging him not to be mad at me, promising him I’ll be a good girl.

My pulse beats louder in my ears like the pounding of a forbidden drum, making it impossible to focus. I don’t even know whose turn it is to speak. I don’t know whether I should walk out or stand firm. Though, I’m wobbling under his intense stare, so walking out isn’t exactly an option.

“Look.” His eyes finally release me from their chokehold, allowing the oxygen to return to my brain. “I don’t want to fight, Torre. I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m just trying to look out for you. Those girls can be mean, and you’re too much of a sweetheart to get wrapped up in that scene. I don’t want to see my little sister caught up in stupid drama when college is supposed to be fun.”

I suppose he has a point. If I’m trying to put all the high school cliquey bullshit behind me (the one part I won’t miss), I should probably not join an organization that bases ninety-nine percent of their decision on looks. Though, I’d probably be a shoo-in for whichever sorority I want, given who it is I share a last name with. My stepbrother is a legend at the school. Every single person I met wanted to be my friend so they could meet him.

“I’ll consider your point,” I say, already deciding that I won’t be joining one. The idea of the girls kissing up to me to get a date with him has ripped the interest away. “Thank you for wanting to look out for me. Just know that part of spreading my wings is making my own choices and learning from my mistakes.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m just protective is all. I don’t want to see my little sister getting hurt. It’s my job as your big brother to pass along my wisdom and keep you safe.”

Those words sink into me with disgusted guilt. If we’d met when I was in high school, that would be one thing, but our parents married when I was five and he was nine. We’ve been a family for as far back as my first memory. Which is why I’m such a vile person.

“You’re the best big brother, Lukas, but you can’t protect me from everything.”

I wish that word would trigger my brain back to normal, but it doesn’t. Nothing does. I’ve tried looking through family photos and remembering all the times he used to get annoyed with me. I’ve tried thinking back on all our family holidays, us fighting over Easter eggs and trying to stay up to catch Santa coming down the chimney, but none of it fixes my thoughts. None of it flips the feelings back to normal.

His lips tip up at the corners and the butterflies begin flapping their wings again. It’s impossible to stay annoyed with him when he gives me those dimples. It’s impossible not to feel all tingly inside when he looks at me.

“So, what’s on the agenda for this weekend?” He takes another stack of shirts out of his bag, and a little blue box with a pink ribbon falls out onto his bed. It looks like a jewelry box. And you only buy jewelry for girls you’re serious about. Which means he must have a new girlfriend. A thought that makes my heart start its rapid panic.

“What’s that?” I ask, trying not to pierce my words with jealousy.

“That’s not for you to see yet.” He tries to tuck it under his bag.

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