Chapter 10 #3
Next thing I knew, his arm was around me, trapping me between his body and the cart, his chest warm against my back. “Let’s get some chips.”
This is cruel and unusual punishment. This has to violate some Geneva Convention about torturing your stepbrother. Article 5: No unfairly attractive stepbrothers shall trap their younger siblings against shopping carts while smelling like heaven and looking like sin.
Wei finally materialized like some kind of relationship-drama-sensing demon, arms loaded with snacks that probably contained enough sodium to preserve a small whale. One look at my probably tomato-red face, and his lips twitched with poorly hidden amusement.
“I’ll wait outside,” I blurted, ducking under Jaxson’s arm like it was on fire. Which, honestly, my skin felt like it was. Third-degree burns from just being near him. I should sue.
The parking lot wasn’t exactly a safe haven, but at least there weren’t any produce-related excuses for Jaxson to touch me here.
I perched on the hood of his car, probably looking like a sulking teenager.
Which I’m not. I’m a mature adult having a completely reasonable crisis.
Adults have crises all the time. It’s practically a hobby.
When they finally emerged with enough groceries to feed a small army, I helped load the trunk while performing an Olympic-worthy routine of avoiding eye contact. Not that it helped—I could feel Jaxson’s gaze burning into me like a physical touch, raising goosebumps on my skin despite the warm day.
Stop thinking about touching. Stop thinking about hands. Stop thinking about how those hands felt on your—
The drive home was another exercise in tension, with Wei humming cheerfully in the front seat like he wasn’t orchestrating this whole torture session.
He kept “accidentally” adjusting his seat, pushing it back until my knees were practically touching the driver’s seat.
Every time I shifted to get comfortable, he’d sing-song “Everything okay back there, Celestial Peach?” while making meaningful eye contact with Jaxson in the mirror.
Back home, I suffered through ten minutes of putting away groceries, doing my best impression of a ninja—swift, silent, and definitely not brushing hands with Jaxson every time we reached for the same bag.
Which happened with suspicious frequency.
Either the universe was conspiring against me, or Jaxson was deliberately reaching for the same items I was. Given my luck lately, probably both.
Each accidental touch sent that strange warmth racing through me, like my body was recognizing something my mind couldn’t quite grasp. It wasn’t just attraction—it was something deeper, more fundamental, like my very cells were responding to him on a level I couldn’t understand.
The moment the last can was shelved, I made my escape to my room. Strategic retreat, I told myself. Totally different from running away. Running away involves actual running. This is more of a brisk walk with purpose.
I was pretending to study Mandarin—because apparently, my life wasn’t complicated enough without adding characters to the mix—when Wei knocked. The sound made me jump, nearly sending my textbook flying.
“Come in,” I called, already dreading the incoming brotherly inquisition. Wei had that look in his eyes earlier, the one that said he was about to go full Sherlock Holmes on my personal life.
He sat on my bed, ruffling my hair like I was still eleven instead of a college student with a driver’s license. “So, you and Jaxson are doing your best impression of awkward exes at a wedding. Want to tell me what happened?”
My face burst into flames. I could practically feel my skin sizzling. Oh, you know, just your typical stepbrother hand job drama. Just another Tuesday in the Sinclair-Ji soap opera. Nothing special. Completely normal family stuff.
“Nothing happened,” I muttered, suddenly finding my textbook fascinating. Who knew Chinese characters could be so interesting? Look at all those strokes and radicals. Absolutely riveting.
“Right,” Wei drawled, his knowing smirk making my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles. “And I’m secretly a K-pop idol. Come on, Lan’er. Jaxson's walking around like you just announced you're moving back to China, and you’re hiding in here like a manga protagonist with relationship troubles.”
“What are you trying to say, Wei?” Please don’t channel your inner Sherlock Holmes right now. Or your inner anyone who might actually figure out what happened.
His expression shifted to something that made me think of a cat playing with its prey before the final pounce.
“That whatever has Jaxson looking like a kicked puppy needs to be fixed. He has enough on his plate without…” He waved his hand vaguely, encompassing what I assumed was the whole disaster that was my existence.
“…whatever happened between you two last night.”
The way he emphasized ‘happened’ made me want to crawl under my bed and never come out. Guilt twisted in my stomach like a knife. Fantastic. I’ve graduated from disaster gay to family burden. Achievement unlocked: Making Life Harder for Everyone.
“Trust me, Wei, the last thing I want is to trouble Jaxson.” I just want to forget how his hands felt on my— I just want to forget that I’m hopelessly in love with my stepbrother.
I just want to be normal. “I know he’s dealing with a lot and…
fuck, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know how to handle… things.”
“‘Things,’” Wei repeated, his lips twitching as he watched me squirm like a bug under a microscope. “You mean your raging hormones and terrible life choices?”
“I know, okay?” I know exactly how terrible my life choices are. In HD. With surround sound. In IMAX 3D with those special glasses and the seats that vibrate during action scenes.
He stood up, patting my head with exaggerated gentleness like I was a particularly slow puppy who’d finally learned to sit.
“Good. Fix it before the party. Because if I have to watch you two dance around each other like awkward penguins all night, I’m spiking the punch.
” His grin turned positively demonic. “And who knows what might happen then?”
After he left, I collapsed onto my bed, glaring at the ceiling like it was responsible for my problems. Maybe it was.
Maybe there was a leak that had dripped some kind of insanity-inducing mold onto me while I slept.
That would explain a lot more than “I’m hopelessly in love with my stepbrother who gave me a hand job last night. ”
Sometimes I wondered if Wei’s real hobby was collecting blackmail material on all of us. He probably had a secret folder labeled “Sinclair-Ji Family Disasters” with subfolders for each of us. Mine was probably the largest.
Talk to Jaxson. Right. Simple. Just walk up to the guy who gave you your first orgasm that wasn’t self-induced and…
what? Ask about the weather? “Hey, nice day we’re having.
By the way, thanks for the hand job last night.
Really cleared up the tension. Weather forecast says partly cloudy with a chance of awkward boners. ”
This party is going to be a disaster of epic proportions.
Just another day in the Sinclair-Ji household. God help us all.