Spider

He gives me a look. “Baby girl, pretty sure we all knew who—even Trenton.”

I curse under my breath. Four years ago when I started dating Trenton, I didn’t bring up Spider. At first it was because I didn’t want Trenton to think he was my rebound guy when he so obviously was, and then later when my feelings for Trenton had grown into love, it just wasn’t appropriate. Spider is my stepbrother, and most think it’s wrong—especially people from Highland Park.

“Thanks for the warning,” I say as I take a deep pull of the frothy liquid and lean my head against the headboard. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d be considerably less stylish, and you’d be hungry.”

I grin. “I’d have more money though.”

“Who needs money when you have me?”

The water clicks off in the bathroom and I stand, noticing I’m still wearing my underclothes from last night’s outfit: a white lace bra and panty set. I sigh. No sex with Trenton; unfortunately, I’m not surprised. Lately, we seem to be drifting, both of us caught up in our everyday lives. But I do love him and I know he loves me.

Oscar whistles his appreciation. “Your body is rocking, but word of advice, your hair is ready for Halloween.” He pats me on the leg. “Now hop on up and let Mama Oscar make you some pancakes.”

“I love you!” I call to his back as he flounces out of my room and heads into the kitchen.

By the time Trenton makes it out of the bathroom, I’m dressed in a pair of yoga pants and a camisole. I’ll wait to shower after breakfast; my topsy-turvy belly needs grease to make it feel better, and quick.

He comes into my bedroom already dressed in madras shorts and a sports polo. I study his face, looking for signs that I revealed too much about Spider the night before, but he seems his usual calm self. A bit unemotional, nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. Sometimes I wish he had more passion, but it’s just . . . him. At least he’s predicable.

I recall the night we first slept together. It was after Spring Fling and my heart was still devastated from Spider. Lonely and depressed, I did what I told Spider I’d do; I focused on Trenton. That night, Trenton got us a hotel room and was gentle and sweet when he took me. Lying in his arms, I cried for my stupid broken heart, but in the coming days, I learned to love him. We’ve been together ever since, an easy and drama free relationship.

He gives me a peck on the lips, smelling minty and fresh.

“Where you headed?” I ask. “I thought we’d eat breakfast together.”

He styles his hair in front of a mirror propped on my dresser, working product into his sandy blond locks. “Can’t. I’m meeting some of the partners at a country club in Connecticut. I need to get on the road if I want to make tee time.”

I’m disappointed, but also relieved.

I need some space today to think, to rehash every detail of my interaction with Spider last night—which is wrong. I shouldn’t even be thinking about him. “It feels like we barely see each other these days.”

His eyes find mine in the mirror. “They like me, and I need to foster these relationships if I want to move up. I have a good feeling about this company.” He walks over and wraps me in a hug. “Come on, don’t be glum. You know, you don’t have to wait tables or even get your graduate degree—”

“But I want to,” I say, cutting him off.

His mouth tightens. “It just feels like between you working at Bono’s and school, you’re too busy for me.”

I stiffen and pull away. This is a familiar argument with us since graduation. He’s a traditional guy who wants me to be done with school and spend my time with him. Sometimes it feels like he’s putting distance between us and staying busy on purpose, just to manipulate me into doing what he wants—which is to quit everything and move in with him.

He exhales. “Then maybe we can do lunch one day this week?”

“Of course.”

He heads to my bedroom door, but before he goes, he looks back at me, a quizzical expression on his face. “By the way, I find it curious that Spider didn’t want to celebrate with us last night. Is there some kind of tension between you two?”

“No,” I say rather quickly.

He frowns. “You sure? You ranted about rock stars last night. There seemed to be some . . . animosity there.”

“I was trashed. There’s no telling what I said.” I wave him off. “Spider’s . . . fine. We just lead very different lives.”

He nods slowly, but there’s a look in his eyes that says he doesn’t believe me. He pauses for a few moments as if he’s going to say something else, but then he walks out the door. I let out a sigh of relief when I hear him telling Oscar goodbye in the kitchen as he leaves.

Half an hour later, things are looking up as I stuff a wad of the best bacon I’ve ever had into my mouth. Then a knock sounds at the door.

Oscar is busy frying more bacon, so I saunter over to the door and open it, half-expecting to see Trenton. He’s forever leaving stuff here and then making a mad dash to find it.

It isn’t Trenton.

“Morning, stepsister.”

Shock ripples over me as my hand grips the edge of the door, and just like that, I can’t breathe. He’s in front of me—again. I will my heart to slow down.

He seems more confident this morning, and it throws me.

“What . . . how did you get here?”

He gives me that devil-may-care shrug of his. “I’m your neighbor. Right next door.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” I can’t think straight. I can’t even begin to connect the dots. He’s entirely too handsome for how early in the morning it is, and I know I look like a deranged person with scary hair.

“Because my father is your stepfather and he owns this building. He told me last night we were on the same floor. I heard your music this morning, and I just made a guess that this one was yours. Guess I was right.” He leans back and points to the apartment door to my left. “That one’s mine.”

“Oh.” I exhale, brushing at my hair. “Have you always stayed at 4E when you’re in town?” I know exactly how many concerts he’s had in New York—three. I went to the one where he didn’t come out to see me, but I push that out of my head.

He shakes his head. “Father said this was all he had in town—”

Oscar yells from the kitchen, cutting him off. “Good grief, stop grilling the man and let him come in and eat! We’re from Texas, girl—where’s your hospitality?”

I smirk. I guess Oscar heard everything we said.

Interest lights Spider’s eyes. “That would be great,” he says softly. “It smells great in here, to be honest. Plus, I don’t have any coffee over there. I’m dying.”

Screw southern hospitality. I want to tell him to go fuck himself, I really do, but I can’t. It’s him in the flesh, and he has a power over me.

“May I come in, Rose?” His eyes are pools of sunlight through amber, and I sigh.

“I’d never deny a man coffee.” I grit my teeth and step aside to let him in, and his hand accidentally brushes against mine. Electricity hums, igniting my insides, but I shake it off.

He enters the kitchen and I make mean eyes at Oscar for inviting him, but Oscar barely notices. He’s giving Spider air kisses on both cheeks like they’re old friends. I stick my tongue out at him behind Spider’s back, and he ignores me.