Page 3 of Sugar Rush
A few minutes of water pummeling my face and scalp helped stimulate my brain into a level of function that could roughly be considered human. After I finished sudsing up with my plain bar of soap, I set it back on the austere rack that held my shower stuff. Just the soap and a bottle of store brand shampoo that claimed to be for cleansing and conditioning.
The rack on the other side of the space held Jordy’s shower stuff. Some fluffy mesh thing for washing, a glove that looked rough and bumpy. A rock with little holes in it. And a bunch of bottles and tubes that were probably for things I didn’t even want to know about. And despite the fact that he was always switching around seasonal fragrances like watermelon in the summer and pumpkin spice in the fall, they didn’t do a thing to cover up his natural scent. It floated through the house like a sugar-coated ghost, always haunting me.
The fancy soaps and lotions didn’t cover up his scent, but they made his skin smooth and his hair shiny, which I probably wasn’t supposed to notice. Technically, I wasn’t supposed to notice anything about him, because he was my younger stepbrother. Completely off-limits and absolutely untouchable.
When I made my way downstairs, the house was quiet. My mom and stepdad were both at work, and if I was lucky, Jordy would be gone already. He spent most Saturdays doing volunteer work, and I was sure today would be no exception. But by the time I got halfway down, I knew he was home.
My nose flooded with his cloyingly sweet scent, like always. I knew he took his suppressants every day, and no one else ever seemed to notice it, so I guess I was the only one. But that was a very good thing. The thought of another alpha scenting him made my muscles clench and ache, like I wanted to tear someone apart. No matter where we were or how many people were around, I could always pick it out of a crowd. I knew that was wrong, on some level. It made me feel like a predator, but I couldn’t help it.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs, his big, round eyes flicked up at me from his plate of food, probably some health-forward culinary abomination. The scraped avocado rind and empty cottage cheese pack sitting on the top of the trash can confirmed my suspicions. His healthy, ultra carb-conscious diet was related to controlling his glucose levels, not vanity. But regardless of the reasoning, that coupled with the fact that he had run track the last two years of high school had resulted in a tight, toned body that was impossible for me to ignore. I didn’t know if he had some secret squat regimen or what, but his perfectly sculpted bubble butt could have been a fucking altar.
“Morning,” he greeted me calmly, before returning his attention to his plate, where there was a half-eaten piece of whole wheat toast smeared with the avocado and topped withegg, next to a mostly-eaten pile of cottage cheese topped with blueberries. I knew his breakfast rotations pretty well, after six years.
Jordy Nolan was simultaneously my obsession and the bane of my existence. My mom had married his dad when he’d been 12 and I’d been 15. Now, six years later, we were a functionally blended family. Everything was very typical and not strange at all, and no one had any unnatural feelings that kept lingering around no matter how unwanted they were.
He wasn’t completely screwed up like I was. He liked hanging out, watching movies with me and borrowing my hoodies and riding in my truck, normal things that brothers would do together. Those weren’t the things I fantasized about doing with him. It was my terrible luck to have the world’s most perfect omega living in the room directly next to mine, a constant reminder of what I could never have. And for a lot more reasons than just that he was my stepbrother.
He wasn’t like me. He didn’t overthink every interaction and bitterly obsess over the fact that we were forced to share a bathroom and sleep in bedrooms only separated by a thin wall. He was happy and bright and pleasant to be around, descriptions that I was certain no one would have ever thought to apply to me.
I could feel his eyes on my back as I pulled down a rainbow-colored box of sugary cereal and poured a hefty portion into a bowl. I wanted to take it into the living room and eat on the couch, but I was always paranoid that if I tried too hard to avoid him, he’d somehow figure out why.
Sitting on the other side of the table, I scrolled on my phone, watching him in my peripherals. He was a magnet, always drawing my vision to him. We could be in any crowded room and somehow he’d always be the center of my attention. I wanted to hate him for it, but it wasn’t his fault. And he was too cute tohate. Even if he could be an irritating little goblin whose favorite hobby was getting on my last nerve.
He was wearing a red sweatshirt with the logo for the highly-regarded university he’d gotten accepted to, Oldport University. The sleeves were too long for his small frame, covering the backs of his hands and just leaving his fingertips sticking out. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d imagined those slender fingers wrapped around my cock, or grasping onto my shoulders while I pounded him into a mattress. I chewed my cereal with more speed and aggression than necessary, hoping to finish and leave before he could say or do anything else.
“Here,” he said, ruining my well-laid plans and forcing me to look up into his face, where his blue eyes regarded me placidly. He set my wallet between us, pushing it toward me. “You left this in my room last night.”
“I wasn’t in your room last night.” The words flew out of my mouth like I was pleading ‘not guilty’ in a court of law. I avoided his bedroom like the plague. Just seeing it through his open door when I had to take a piss was bad enough. Knowing that was where he slept and changed clothes and jerked off.
“Yes, you were.”
“No,” I argued. But if I hadn’t been, why the hell did he have my wallet? “I went to Ritchie’s last night.”
Ritchie was a guy who lived in our neighborhood. I’d been friends with him since high school. He’d had some people over the night before. Copious amounts of alcohol had been involved. I was a complete lightweight because I basically never drank, but I’d needed a distraction so fucking badly.
“After,” he insisted. I furrowed my brow, deep in concentration, trying to rememberanything.“Ritchie walked you home and dropped you off at the front door.”
“So how did I end up in your room?” I asked, even though I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to know. My stomach was clenching with nerves, like I’d been caught doing something wrong.
He shrugged, tucking a piece of blond hair behind his ear. “I guess because it’s the first door you saw when you came up the stairs.”
“Right.” That was definitely not why. “Sorry for waking you up.”
“You didn’t,” he said, then shook his head slightly. The movement dislodged the pale lock of hair he’d just tucked away, brushing it back over his forehead. “Well, you did, but before that. You were kind of loud outside.”
“Are Mom and Chester pissed?”
To Jordy, my mom wasMom, but to me his dad was stillChester. Not that Chester was a bad guy or anything. On the contrary, he was incredibly kind and supportive. I didn’t need a dad but I was glad my mom had found someone nice after all the shit she’d gone through with my biological father.
“I don’t think you woke them up.”
Despite the fact that Jordy was the poster boy for following rules, literally valedictorian of his graduating class, I knew he wouldn’t rat me out. He never did. And even if he wanted to, it’s not like he had to put any concerted effort into making me look bad or being the good son. That distinction was crystal clear.
Putting my empty bowl into the sink, I ran some water into it while my mind raced. Had I screwed everything up when I was so close to being free? He’d start his college courses in the fall. The school was an hour away, so he’d probably only come back for holidays. But he wasn’t acting like anything was wrong. Surely if I’d said anything damning, he’d bring it up. He wouldn’t just act like nothing had happened, would he? I wasn’t sure. Despite our friendly relationship, Jordy could still be a mystery to me sometimes. Eating meals together, sharing abathroom, and sleeping in side-by-side bedrooms for the past six years hadn’t done much to change that.
“I’m going to work,” I said, reaching down to snatch my wallet off the table, stuffing it in my back pocket.
He didn’t say anything, but gave me a tiny nod in acknowledgment. As I reached the edge of the kitchen, my nerves sparked up and I couldn’t ignore them anymore. Clenching my hand into a fist at my side, I fought to keep my neutral and calm. Casual, even.
