Chapter 2
NATHAN
I try to make conversation with Eli for the first thirty minutes of the drive, but I don’t get much more than annoyed grunts and sarcastic snorts.
Eli hates me.
We got along just fine when we first met—hell, I thought we could eventually have a bond as close as real brothers someday—but his attitude toward me changed as soon as my dad and I moved into his family home.
I figured he was bitter about the fact that I’d invaded his space, so I tried being extra nice to him.
My efforts backfired, and it somehow made him dislike me even more.
I can’t say the change in attitude didn’t hurt. Dad remarrying came as a shock, but I was happy to hear that I’d be gaining siblings, and even more excited about having a brother around my age. Being an only child, I envied my friends who had siblings they did everything with.
I glance at Eli out of the corner of my eye. He’s nothing like the men I’m used to, but not in a bad way.
I’m used to giant, rowdy men on the field with too much energy and no filter. Meanwhile, each one of Eli’s words is like gold. They’re carefully crafted to hit straight to the point with the snarkiest delivery. At least that’s my theory on why his replies to me are so rare.
I don’t even have to look at him to feel the restless energy radiating off him, but he keeps it bottled up underneath his skin. The only indication of him being on edge is his knee bouncing against the pillow on his lap and him constantly munching on the bag of gummy bears he brought.
It’s his default mode. He’s moving, though not in the abrasive way I’m used to with my teammates. He releases energy with a twitchy leg or drumming fingers.
It might be from all the candy he’s eating. He’s eaten at least half the bag already in just our short time in the car alone.
I glance at his profile again and notice the dark circles under his eyes. His skin is so pale, they look almost blue.
I should tell him he needs to go out in the sun more instead of being cooped up all the time. Maybe that’ll help with his insomnia, too. But I know he’ll take anything I say as a personal attack against him.
I can just imagine him puffing up in that cute little way he does with his arms crossed and hair frazzled, like it’s also showing how offended it is.
I look his way again to find him drumming his fingers against the decorative pillow in tune with the Christmas song playing on the radio. He’s looking out the window, but I can tell he isn’t as annoyed as earlier from his relaxed posture.
His guard is down, at least as much as it can be when he’s around me, so I try making conversation again.
“How’s your senior year going?” I say.
“Fine,” he mutters, not even bothering to turn my way. He hugs the pillow tighter to his body.
I wish I knew why the guy’s so against talking to me. With his attitude toward me, you’d think I stole his girlfriend or something.
Scratch that…Eli wouldn’t have a girlfriend. He’s gay, unless that’s changed since I last saw him when he was home for summer vacation.
I can’t believe it’s already been six months since then. Time has flown by with how busy work is, with me still learning the ropes and all the weekend networking events my company sends me to.
This is the first vacation I’ll have since starting the job, and I’m really looking forward to spending time with my family. Which is why I’m determined to make the best of it, including trying to get Eli to finally warm up to me.
“So what’s new? Did you find a boyfriend yet?”
Eli shoots me the nastiest look I’ve seen from him, then turns up the music. He pops another gummy bear into his mouth, holds the pillow in a death grip, and turns his body toward the window as much as physically possible.
Well, so much for getting along with him. I should probably lower my goal to not pissing him off more than I already do.
I sigh and buckle in for a long, stifling car ride.
I don’t get it. What did I do to make him hate me so much? I can’t remember offending him in any way. I’ve always been pleasant to him. I’m a pro at small talk, and everyone says I’m fun to be around.
The only person who disagrees is Eli. He acts like I suck the joy straight from the air every time I’m in proximity to him.
Even after four and a half years of knowing him, I can’t figure him out. I probably never will. I just have to accept the fact and move on. But for whatever reason, I can’t. Eli’s dislike of me bothers me more than I want to admit.
Maybe it’s because I’ve never had anyone hate me so openly. I was lucky to be born with conventional good looks, and that’s already enough to get most people to like you. Being athletic helps too.
I know, I know. Life is unfair, and whatever. These aren’t traits I had to work at, but I like to think the people around me like me for my charming personality, and that’s something I’ve honed through the years.
I think it’s part of the reason Eli’s distaste for me stings so much. I treat everyone I meet with an open and kind heart, and people are always receptive to it. The only exception being Eli.
I look at him again. He sure was easy on the eyes. He’s not as bulky as I am, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t good-looking.
He’s skinny—much too skinny in my opinion—but I’ll never voice that to him.
The last thing I want is for him to think I’m comparing the two of us and calling him weak and frail, which he isn’t, by the way.
I’ve seen him carry his sisters around like they weigh nothing, and they’re both as tall as he is.
His angular face is kept smooth, unlike my scruffy one.
His dark waves are never tamed, but I think it’s one of his charms. He has long eyelashes, too.
Longer than any woman’s I’ve seen. They frame his doe eyes, making him look more innocent than he actually is.
I’ve experienced firsthand how spicy the man can be, but I find it more refreshing than all the women who act coy to get attention.
If Eli’s goal is to make me notice him, then mission accomplished. Though I doubt he cares what I think. He probably wishes I would get as far away from him as possible.
I focus back on the road in front of me to distract myself from the irrational hurt the thought causes. I shouldn’t care what Eli thinks of me. Just because we’re stepbrothers doesn’t mean we have to be involved in each other’s lives.
Eli’s phone rings with an incoming call. He answers it, and I turn off the radio so he can hear better.
I can hear his mom’s voice on the other side of the phone asking him questions.
Eli’s answers are short, which I’m sure is because of me.
Which really is a shame, because he has such a nice voice.
It isn’t as deep as mine, but it’s mellow.
It’s probably why his sarcastic comments never sting as hard.
He could spew profanities, and it still wouldn’t sound harsh.
I can barely make out his mom’s muffled voice through the phone. It sounds like she’s lecturing him. Eli makes sounds of acknowledgment, but I wonder if he’s actually paying attention.
Finally, he says, “Okay, I will. Love you, bye,” and hangs up the phone.
He lets out a huff of air. From the corner of my eye, I see him turn his body toward me.
“Mom says there’s a storm coming and told you to drive safely,” Eli mumbles.
I can hear the annoyance in his voice, like talking to me pained him.
I ignore the pang in my chest and shoot him a smirk.
“Will do. I need to keep my precious cargo safe, after all,” I reply with a wink.
Eli’s face scrunches up with his usual glare for me before quickly turning back toward the window, but before he turns away, I catch a glimpse of pink crawling up his pale cheeks.
Of course I don’t comment on it. With how skittish he is, my pointing out his blush will just give him another reason to hate me. Instead, I turn up the music again, humming along to the cheerful tune.
The car ride doesn’t feel so stifling anymore.