Save Me: a Stepbrother Romance (4 page)

Cal knew it too, but that wasn’t going to stop him from putting up a fight.  He drew his hand back to punch Furst from the side. 

“Please, don’t,” I whispered from my pathetic place on the floor.

Cal’s gaze flitted toward me one more time.  I had no idea what I had expected.  Cal Gatlin had no reason to listen to me.  He hated me and everything I stood for, from my cream cardigans to the National Honor Society pin on my floral backpack.  He should have ignored me. 

Instead, his eyes stayed fixed on me, burning into me.  It was a strange gaze.  There was something more there, something I couldn’t figure out. 

Was Cal feeling protective of his new sister?

His fists dropped immediately. 

Even Furst’s eyes widened, unused to this new pacifism.  I watched Furst  march Cal away, the eyes of the entire cafeteria mercifully off of me and onto them.

“I told you he was a dick,” Nate growled, grabbing his seat and falling into it. 

Jess grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the floor.  Nate kept his gaze fixed on his backpack as he ripped his homework out of it.  He didn’t look at me. 

The sounds of cafeteria chatter flooded back as people lost interest in us.  I stared at my peanut butter sandwich while Jess restored the natural order by babbling on about Vanessa Miller From Homeroom’s new haircut.  Just five minutes, and everything was back to normal.

Well, everything except the pain in my chest.

The image of Cal’s intense gaze burned in my mind.  Why had he looked at me like that?  Why had he listened to me when I asked him to stop?  Was I right about my guess that Cal was beginning to feel protective of me, regardless of how stupid and unreasonable the relationship between us was?  My stomach turned.

I frowned and looked down at my lunch. 

No.  There was no way.

Cal and I were not connected at all.  The best thing to do was keep pretending he didn’t exist.

Nate, as usual, offered me a ride home. 

And as usual, I smiled and said no.   

Instead I stayed late after school to run club meetings and steal an hour in the piano practice room.  By the time the sunset glowed golden pink and the school’s clock tower was chiming six, I was sure I was in the clear.  There was no way I would run into Cal.  By now he was home, cooped up in his room, skulking or setting fires or building pipe bombs or whatever he did for fun.

I threw my backpack on and slipped out the front doors of the school, shutting the lights of the back room off behind me for the cleaning ladies.  My feet hit the pavement of the sidewalk with a cheery little jump, celebrating my new freedom from stupid, hormonal teenage boys.  Dinner waited for me at home.  And then the stack of glorious, glorious homework on my desk promised to keep my mind off the criminal in the bedroom next to me.

“Hey,
Sis
.”

My skin prickled. 

Shit.

I kept walking but turned my head.  Cal Gatlin was strolling behind me, his scuffed boots and leather jacket looking as beaten up as always, his smirk as irritating as ever. 

“Why are you still here?” I snapped. 

My fingers clutched the backpack strap and pulled it closer as if that protected me.  Pepper spray was going on my to-buy list this weekend. 

“I had detention, didn’t you hear?  They made me stay after.”

“I thought detention ended at five thirty?”

“And I thought my new little sister could use an escort home.  I stayed after for you, Sis.  Aren’t you special?”

“It’s a miracle they let you out at all,” I grumbled.  “You almost clocked a police officer.”

“Didn’t you hear?  I managed not to punch him.  Pulled back at the last minute.  I’m ‘growing as a moral actor.’  Aren’t you proud, Sis?”

I didn’t answer.  I didn’t understand what Cal Gatlin was after, and I didn’t care.  My headache was pulsing against my temples, and I ached for my bed and homework.  Please, God, let this be a nightmare. 

Yet something was eating away at me.  Something in the way he had looked at me, the way he had stopped when I asked him to earlier.  And I was sure as hell it wasn’t because Cal Gatlin was becoming a ‘moral actor.’ 

Still, I kept walking.  I refused to turn around and face him. 

Gatlin fell into step with me, and I flinched. 
Please go away, please go away, please go away
.

“So, you broke up with pretty boy yet?”

“Nate is a good boyfriend.”  I gritted my teeth. 

Please go away, please go away, please go away
.

He snorted.  “Didn’t seem so good when he shoved you on your ass.”

“I wonder why that happened.  Couldn’t be that anybody was egging him on.”

“Oh, really?  Getting egged on is an excuse to hit your girlfriend?  Damn, Pink, nobody told me.”

I gritted my teeth.  No, fuck this.  Forget what happened earlier.  He was back to being an asshole.  If I was smart, I would remember that that’s what Cal always was. 

“Fuck.  Off.  Cal.”

“Cal?  Are we that close already that we’re giving each other nicknames, Pink?”

I ignored him.  Do not encourage him, I reminded myself.  Do not let yourself become Cal Gatlin’s new toy.  I hugged my jacket closer and kept walking.

“Come on, Sis.  Don’t you want to get all close and intimate?  Get inside each other’s head?”  His gaze scraped my body again. “Bad boy and good girl, best friends forever?  It could happen.”

“This isn’t the Breakfast Club.  And I’m not Molly Ringwald.  Fuck off.”

His eyebrows raised, and a cocky grin played across his face. 

“Damn, Sis.  I love a chick with a mouth.  Glad I married you.”

“You didn’t marry me.  My mother married your father.  For some reason.”

“You do have a nice mouth.”

“Shut up.”

“I wonder what else you can do with it.”

My face burned crimson, and I ducked.  Yes, he was back to being good old Cal Gatlin, the boy who humiliated me in third grade.  The boy who had it out for me for some strange reason. 

Why, God, why did Mom have to marry James?  Couldn’t they act like the Baby Boomer hippies they were and decide marriage was just a piece of paper?  Or choose to live separately?  Or at least sell Cal to the zoo or something.

“You can quit pretending you don’t want me,” he said, slinking along beside me.  “I’ve seen your type before, Pink.  Bad boys get you wet.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“Is that why you fuck douchebags like Nate, hm?”

“I haven’t fucked him,” I blurted. 

Oh God, that was the wrong choice.  My heart sank as soon as Cal turned his head, his smirk gleaming in the setting sunlight.

“So you really are a good girl, Pink?  You’re a virgin?”

“Shut up.”

“Has nobody popped your cherry yet?”

“Shut up.”

“You need help with that?”

I sped up.  He fell into step with me again instantly.  I’d never be fast enough evade him, not with my short little legs and his cocky determination.  He stuck to me like a leech. 

“That’s all right, Sis.  I like the view from behind better, anyway.”

I whirled on him.  “Seriously, Gatlin, can you just leave?  I don’t know what you want from me, but you’re not getting it.”

“Gatlin?  We’re not on nickname basis anymore, Pink?”

“I told you to leave.”

“I’m walking home.  To our home.”

Ugh.  It was
our
home, and there was nothing I could do about that. 

“You don’t have to be such an ass, Cal.  I told you.  I don’t get what you want, besides getting a rise out of me.”

“It’s only fair, baby.  You’ve definitely gotten a rise out of me.”  The way he drew out the word rise made me shiver.

He chuckled. 

“I saw that, Pink.  I told you: girls like you always want bad boys.  It’s in your blood.  Anyway, you know exactly what I want.”

“And what’s that?” I spat.

“You.”

“Then you’re sure as hell not getting it.”

My footsteps sped up.  Our house rose ahead of us as Cal babbled on, attempting to provoke a response out of me.  I tuned it out, squeezing my eyes shut as I entered the house and peeled off my coat. 

Don’t be his new toy.  Don’t encourage him. 

I ignored Mom’s calls from the kitchen to come to dinner, instead heading for my room.  Cal trailed after me, his voice rising an octave as he realized that I was about to escape him.

“Come on, Pink.  You’ve got something to say.  I can feel it.  Just say it.”

“Leave me alone, Gatlin.  I’ve told you everything I need to say.”

“That’s not true.  Remember our conversation yesterday?  You haven’t told me how big you like cock.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Is that why you’re still a virgin?  Pretty boy not big enough for  you?”

My patience broke, and I sprinted for the stairs.  I couldn’t handle him anymore.  I didn’t care if he listened to me at lunch, I didn’t care if he didn’t kill Nate, I didn’t care that for a moment he had seemed human. 

Today was a lesson.  I couldn’t trust Cal Gatlin.  No matter how “good” he seemed from one moment, he would be an absolute dick the next. 

I hated him, I hated him, I hated him.

“Fuck off, Cal.  I’m sick of you.”

“Oh, please.  You don’t care.  You’re too busy being perfect.”

I gritted my teeth and balled my fists. 

Don’t encourage him, Nat.

“Natalie Harlow, the perfect little girl,” he sneered.  “You know why I like fucking with you?”  He leaned against the wall, glaring a hole into me.  “Because you’re sick of me.  Because you’re
ashamed
of me.”

Don’t answer, don’t encourage him, don’t let yourself be his new toy.