Kody Keplinger - A Midsummer’s Nightmare

But Nathan’s hand moved to my shoulder, and without warning he pushed me up, away from him.

“No,” he panted. “I can’t do this, Whit.”

“Nathan,” I whined. “We’re not actually related. It isn’t weird, okay? Please, just—”

“That’s not it,” he said, rolling me off of him and sitting up on the bed.

I propped myself on an elbow, frustrated. “Then what the hell is your problem?” I demanded. “Seriously, Nathan. I’ve thrown myself at you twice, and you shut me down both times. I know you want me, too.”

“That’s just it,” he said, standing up and walking across the room. “I want you… more of you than you’re willing to give.”

“More than I’m…?” I frowned, getting to my knees on the mattress. “What are you talking about?”

He turned to face me, his hand already on the doorknob. “I told you. I don’t want to be that kind of guy. I don’t just want sex, Whit. I want more. I want everything. I want you.”

“Nathan…”

“I’m not settling for less, Whitley,” he said. “And neither should you.”

And he walked out of the room.

For a minute, I was pissed. Really pissed. He wanted everything, but what was everything? I was all over him, willing to do anything in that moment. Anything. What more could he ask for?

Then I remembered what he’d told me in the diner after Harrison’s party. He didn’t want something cheap. He wanted a girl he liked, a girl he could have a future with. And he wanted me to be that girl. He had since graduation night, since we’d made out in the armchair and I’d named all the songs about blue eyes. Even then, he hadn’t just wanted my body. He’d wanted me.

And after this summer, after I’d broken his heart, after he’d actually gotten to know me, he hadn’t changed his mind. I fell backward onto the pillows. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

It took me a long time to stand up, but I did. There was something I had to do. Something I’d been afraid to attempt for weeks. But, finally, I felt like I could do it.

I knelt down next to my duffel bag and began pulling out the wrinkled clothes, folding them up and placing them one by one in the drawers of the oak dresser.

My dresser. In my bedroom.

People cared about me here. Nathan, Bailey, Sylvia—I’d given them every reason in the world to hate me, but they didn’t. They’d tried so hard to make me feel welcome in this house, even when Dad had ignored me. And slowly, I’d come to care about them, too. Maybe I didn’t fit in, but they were willing to make room for me here. And I was ready to take them up on that.

“Enjoying your stay at your dad’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Been spending time with him and his new family?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You like them?”

“Yes. Very much.”

Mom and I hadn’t spoken in weeks, and the one time I actually answered her call, she started digging. For insults. For bitch fits. For anything negative about Dad. It was the morning after I’d unpacked, after I’d decided I belonged here with these people. And Mom was reminding me exactly why I felt more comfortable here than in her house.

“I bet you see them more than you see your father, don’t you?” she scoffed. “Good God. I mean, you’ve known them for five minutes, and he’s already leaving you alone with them all the time, I’d imagine. What if they’re psychos or something?”

“They’re not.”

“You don’t know that, Whitley. Your father has never had good judgment.”

“Mom, they’re fine,” I snapped. “I like them, okay? Drop it.”

Silence. I’d shut her up. But only for a second.

“Honey, is something wrong?” Mom asked. “You sound upset. What’s the matter? You can tell me.”

“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “No, Mom, I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you that Dad and I barely speak to each other. Or that I think he likes his new family more than me. Or that it hurts because I love his family, too. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you anything because all you do is bitch! You bitch and bitch and bitch about Dad. All the time.”

Hot tears were burning in the corners of my eyes. I tried to fight them. This was dumb. Crying on the phone with Mom was stupid and dumb. Because it wasn’t as if she gave a shit. Not about my feelings.

“Whitley—”

“Shut up,” I growled. “Just shut up. Hearing you complain about Dad isn’t helping me. It hasn’t helped me for the past six goddamn years. All you think about is him. How much you hate him. How much he’s hurt you. But you forget that I love him, that sometimes I’m like him. And I’m still here! So just shut up and think about someone else for a change. Like your own fucking daughter.”

There was silence again. This time, she didn’t break it.

I took a few deep breaths, rubbing my eyes with the back of my wrist. I couldn’t believe I’d just done it. I’d said all of the things I’d been thinking for years. But I hadn’t meant to. They just poured out. Gushed from my lips without my permission. Now that it was out there, though, it was kind of a relief.

And kind of terrifying.

“Mom, I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up before she could say another word.

Bailey’s cheerleading tryouts that week were a family event. Sylvia even took off work to make it to the three o’clock session. Though, in reality, there wasn’t much to do or see. Dad, Sylvia, Nathan, and I mostly just stood out in the high school’s ugly orange-and-blue hallway, waiting with our fingers crossed as Bailey and two dozen other girls auditioned behind the closed gymnasium doors.

I tried not to feel bitter. I mean, my dad only saw me two and a half months out of the year, and he barely noticed me then, yet he was going to his not-even-stepdaughter’s cheerleading tryouts. Tryouts he couldn’t actually witness. But, yeah, I did my best to push that feeling away. This was Bailey’s day, and being selfish would make me both a crappy friend and sister.

Sylvia twitched nervously beside me, letting out her breath in long, low bursts. Her foot tapped against the tile floor, and she stared straight ahead, unable to be distracted by the rest of us. Christ, she was more stressed about this than Bailey had been. Just looking at her made me anxious.

“So, Nate, did you watch the game last night?”

I glanced to my left. Dad was trying to distract himself. That or make up for the boredom of standing in this ugly-ass hallway. Either way, he was employing Nathan. His new son. The athlete he’d always wanted. Nathan was going to his old college, playing his favorite sport, doing all the things he’d urged Trace and me to do.

No wonder he didn’t need us anymore. He had the child he’d always hoped for now.

My eyes slid over to Nathan, standing on the other side of my father. His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, and his foot bounced in the same rhythm as Sylvia’s. For a second, he met my gaze, and I had to turn away.

Things had been weird for us since the kiss a few nights ago…. Well, weird for me, at least. Nathan went on like everything was normal. Smiling at me. Laughing with me. Making his usual jokes and comments. Like we hadn’t made out yet again. Like we were still just friends or stepsiblings or whatever the hell we had been. Like nothing had changed.

And I guess, technically, nothing had.

Not for him, anyway.

But for me, everything about our relationship had changed. I’d been kind of confused before—lusting after your soon-to-be stepbrother is really awkward and all—but now… now it was so much worse. Because ever since he’d left my bedroom Friday night, I’d been thinking about what he had said. The things he’d implied.

He wanted me.

And I was pretty sure I wanted him, too.

Believe me, falling for your future stepbrother is way, way more confusing than simply wanting to jump his bones.

I didn’t know if I should tell him how I felt, though. Tell him that I’d grown to want a relationship, a commitment, and that I wanted it with him. Part of me knew I had to. Because ignoring my feelings and letting him slip through my fingers could only lead me to a lot of regret. To be honest, I’d never felt this way about a guy before. I’d be an idiot to let him get away.

On the other hand, I was scared. Really scared.

Not just of this whole relationship idea—though that was a new concept for me—but of what it might do to my family.

My family. The Caulfields had become my family. Even if Mom and Dad were clueless and Trace had moved on, I still had the Caulfields. And I didn’t want to mess that up.

I hadn’t made up my mind yet. And, in the meantime, just making eye contact with Nathan made me jittery. Made the confusion roll over in my stomach and settle into my belly like a pound of lead. I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. I couldn’t live like this much longer.

I needed to decide on something soon.

“Yeah, the game was good,” I heard him tell Dad, but I could have sworn I felt his eyes pressing into the back of my head. “Two extra innings. Pretty intense.”

“Oh, here they come,” Sylvia gasped as the gym doors swung open. Her hand immediately grabbed hold of mine, squeezing it like I was her own personal stress ball.

“Ow.”

“Sorry,” she murmured, loosening her grip a little. “I’m just so…”

“Me, too.” I squeezed back and smiled at her. “It’s fine.”

One by one, the auditioning girls exited the gymnasium, all in varying states of excitement or dejection. A few even came into the hallway with full-blown tears streaking their cheeks, and they ran instantly into the arms of their waiting parents. Christ, I hoped Bailey wouldn’t be like that. I couldn’t take crying. Especially if it was from her. I’d be tempted to go in and kick the preppy blond judges’ asses.

“Here she is,” Dad said, stepping up beside me as Bailey came out of the gym, an unreadable expression on her face. “How’d it go, Bailey-Boop?”

Bailey didn’t say anything. She looked at each of us for a moment, not quite a smile but not quite a frown on her face.

Finally, Bailey moved. She walked straight toward me and, without warning, wrapped her arms around my torso in one of the tightest hugs I’d ever experienced. She almost squeezed the breath out of me. She was pretty strong for such a skinny kid.

“Um… Bailey?” I said, patting her uncertainly on the back. I was afraid she was going to start crying into my cotton T-shirt. “What…?”

“Thank you,” she said. After a second, she let go, her face glowing with pride. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I MADE IT!” She did a little jump in the air and touched her toes—probably something she’d used in her tryout—and let out a whoop so loud I thought I heard the ceiling tiles rattle. “I made it! I made it! They picked me!”

“We heard you the first time,” Nathan said.

“But once is so not good enough,” she countered. She turned to face me again, her eyes shining with excitement. “Thank you, Whitley. I couldn’t have done it without you. You really helped me with my routine these past couple weeks.”

“Bailey, I just sat there and watched you,” I reminded her, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “You did all the work, kid.”

“Congratulations, baby!” Sylvia exclaimed, throwing her arms around Bailey.

“I’m so proud of you, Boop,” Dad said, patting the top of her head. “Great job.”

I’m not jealous, I told myself. I’m happy. Happy for Bailey. Screw Dad. This is about her, not him.

Bailey looked embarrassed, her cheeks turning bright pink.

“Oh, what the hell!” Nathan said, tossing a wink at me, Harrison-style. “Group hug in Bailey’s honor.”

“You’re not serious,” I muttered.

“Oh, no, Nathan. Please—” Bailey tried, but it was too late.

Nathan collapsed onto her, his arms encircling his sister and mother. Dad followed suit within seconds, and it was my father’s hand that grabbed my arm, pulling me into this hideous display of affection. His arm wrapped around my shoulders, squishing me into the group.

“God, you guys, stop it!” she shrieked beneath us. “This is so embarrassing. People can see.”

I would have agreed with her. Normally, at least. I would have run from awkward, weird, sentimental things like this. Screaming, most likely. But suddenly, this felt less disgusting and more… real. Solid. Right.

With Dad on one side of me, his arm around my shoulder, and Sylvia and Nathan and Bailey, all of us squished together, all of us connected, it felt okay. Good, even.