Chapter 9
James
My laptop was acting up again. I’d been having a hard time getting it to charge. Which was great, because I really couldn’t afford to replace it.
I plugged the charger in again, wiggling it around until the little light finally blinked on. The connection was loose. I had a feeling Kent had tripped over it in his drunken stupor last night and yanked it hard enough to damage the port.
Another thing to add to the list of ways he’d made my life harder since moving in.
I glanced over at the couch where he was still passed out, one arm thrown over his face, his mouth slightly open.
He’d been asleep since I’d threatened to kick him out last night, and I was grateful for the silence.
The last thing I needed this morning was another confrontation about my dating life that he seemed to have strong opinions about.
My phone buzzed on the desk. I picked it up, seeing the familiar shirtless torso profile picture pop up. It was the guy from downstairs again. He was quickly becoming a regular thing it seemed.
Him: Hey, weird question for you.
Me: Please tell me you don’t have an STI…
Him: No! Nothing like that. You’re the only person I’ve been seeing lately.
Well, that was weirdly sweet. Or did that mean I was just easy? I shrugged. Better not to read into it too much.
Me: What’s up?
Him: I had some free time this afternoon and wondered if maybe you wanted to go on a date or something? Nothing big. Just coffee.
My heart did a little flip in my chest. A date?
That was unexpected. I figured I was nothing but a booty call to this guy.
After all, I’d pretty much just been using him as a cock to ride for stress relief.
But at the same time, there was something sweet about the gesture.
It had been a very long time since anyone had asked me on a date.
Me: Yeah. That sounds fun. I could use some coffee right now anyway.
Him: Cool. How about 2pm at that place on Pike? The one with the good pastries? I need to carb up for my run today.
Me: Sounds perfect. See you then.
I set my phone down and felt a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the guy downstairs was actually interested in more than just sex. It would be nice to have someone who wanted to get to know me, who saw me as more than just a convenient fuck.
The couch creaked behind me. I glanced over to see Kent stirring, his hand sliding down from his face. He groaned, the sound rough and pained, and I felt a petty satisfaction knowing he was hungover as hell.
Good. Maybe it would teach him not to drink himself stupid and invade my privacy.
He sat up slowly, wincing at the movement. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and there were pillow creases on his cheek. Despite everything, despite how angry I was at him, I couldn’t help but notice how he looked in the morning light streaming through the window. Vulnerable. Almost soft.
I hated that I noticed.
“What time is it?” His voice was gravelly, barely above a whisper.
“Almost eleven.”
“Fuck.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I need to call in sick.”
I didn’t respond, just turned back to my laptop. Let him figure out his own mess. I had work to do and a date to look forward to.
I heard him stand, heard his footsteps padding toward the bathroom. The door closed, and a moment later the sink turned on. I tried to focus on the design I was working on, but my mind kept drifting to what had happened last night.
He’d gone through my phone. Looked at my private photos and messages. The violation of it made my skin crawl, but underneath the anger was something else. Something I didn’t want to examine too closely.
He’d seen me at my most vulnerable. Seen me in ways no one should see their stepbrother. And the look on his face when I’d confronted him… It hadn’t been disgust. It had been guilt, yes, but also something darker. Something hungry. Something that looked a lot like lust.
I shook my head, forcing the thought away. Kent was straight. Whatever I’d seen in his eyes was probably just shock or embarrassment at being caught. Nothing more. It couldn’t be anything else, right?
The bathroom door opened and Kent emerged, looking slightly more human. He’d splashed water on his face, and his hair was damp at the edges.
“James,” he started, his voice still rough. “About last night—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know, but I need to explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain, Kent.” I kept my eyes on my screen, refusing to look at him. “You were drunk. You invaded my privacy. End of story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is.” I finally turned to face him and immediately regretted it. He looked wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, his jaw tight with tension. “You crossed a line. A major line. And if you do it again, you’re gone. That’s all there is to it.”
He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him struggling with something. His mouth opened like he wanted to say more, but then he closed it again, his jaw clenching.
“Fine,” he said finally. “Can I at least make some coffee?”
“Do whatever you want. I have work to do.”
He moved to the kitchen, and I heard him rummaging through the cabinets. The coffee maker started up, and the familiar smell began to fill the apartment. I tried to focus on my work, but I was too aware of his presence, of every movement he made.
My phone buzzed again. I picked it up, half expecting another message from the guy downstairs, but it was from my mom.
Mom: Hi sweetie! Just checking in. How are you doing?
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell her about Kent? About how he’d shown up out of nowhere and turned my life upside down? About how he’d violated my privacy and made me feel unsafe in my own home?
No. She’d just worry. And knowing her, she’d probably try to intervene, to get us to “work things out” like we were still kids fighting over toys.
Me: I’m good, Mom. Just busy with work. How are you and Tom?
Mom: We’re fine! Your father wants to know if you’re coming to dinner on Sunday. Kent said he’d be there. I know you boys haven’t seen each other in a long time and thought it would be nice to have the entire family together for once.
Of course he did. Perfect Kent, always showing up for family dinners, always playing the role of the good son.
Meanwhile, I’d been avoiding those dinners for months because I couldn’t stand the way my stepfather looked at me.
Like I was a disappointment, like my sexuality was something shameful that needed to be tolerated rather than accepted.
Me: I’ll try to make it. Let you know closer to the date. Got a lot going on with work right now.
Mom: Okay honey. Love you!
Me: Love you too.
I set my phone down and rubbed my temples. A headache was forming behind my eyes, the kind that came from stress and lack of sleep. I’d barely slept last night, too angry and confused to relax.
“You want some coffee?”
Kent’s voice made me jump. I looked up to find him standing there with a mug in his hand, offering it to me. The gesture was so unexpected, so unlike him, that I didn’t know how to respond.
“It’s the fancy stuff you like,” he added when I didn’t move. “I made it in that pour-over thing. Tried to follow the instructions on the bag.”
I took the mug slowly, our fingers brushing for just a second. That same electric jolt ran through me, and I pulled away quickly.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
He nodded and retreated to the couch with his own mug.
We sat in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the occasional slurp of coffee and the tapping of my fingers on the keyboard.
The tension was still there, thick and suffocating, but at least he wasn’t pushing me to talk about last night anymore.
I took a sip of the coffee. It was actually good. Better than the mess he’d made the first time he’d tried to use my pour-over setup. He must have actually paid attention to how I did it.
I hated that the gesture softened something in me. Hated that I wanted to read more into it than what it was, a simple peace offering from someone who knew they’d fucked up.
My laptop finally connected to the charger properly, and I dove back into my work, grateful for the distraction.
The tech startup rebrand was coming along nicely, and I had a meeting scheduled for Monday to present the final concepts.
If they approved it, that would be another solid paycheck.
Enough to cover rent and maybe even put a little away for emergencies.
Like replacing a laptop with a damaged charging port.
I shot a glare at Kent over my shoulder, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at his phone, his expression unreadable. Probably texting someone from work, explaining why he wasn’t coming in today.
My phone buzzed again, pulling my attention back to the screen.
Him: By the way, my name’s Trevor. Figured I should probably tell you that before we go on an actual date lol
I smiled despite myself. Trevor. It was a good name. Normal. Safe.
Me: I’m James. But you probably already knew that from my profile.
Trevor: True lol. See you at 2, James.
I set my phone down and tried to focus on work again, but my mind kept drifting to the date. What would we talk about? What if we ran out of things to say? What if the chemistry we had in bed didn’t translate to actual conversation?
And why did I care so much? It was just coffee. Just a casual afternoon date with a guy who’d asked me out on a whim. No pressure. No expectations.
Except I did have expectations, I realized. I wanted this to be something. I wanted someone to look at me and see more than just a convenient fuck. I wanted to matter to someone.
“You’re smiling.”
Kent’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. I looked over to find him watching me, his expression strange. Not angry, not disgusted. Something else. Something that looked almost like hurt.
“So?” I said defensively.
“Nothing. Just… I’ve never seen you smile like that before.”
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never given me a reason to.”
The words came out harsher than I intended, but I didn’t take them back. They were true. Kent had spent years making my life miserable, and now he was acting like he had some kind of claim over my happiness.
He flinched, his jaw tightening. For a moment I thought he was going to argue, to defend himself, but he just looked away.
“You’re right,” he said quietly. “I haven’t.”
The admission hung in the air between us, heavy and uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to do with it, didn’t know how to process this version of Kent who seemed capable of self-awareness.
“I have a date this afternoon,” I said, changing the subject. “I’ll be out from two until probably four or five.”
His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto mine. “With that guy? The one from downstairs?”
“His name is Trevor. And yes.”
“James—”
“Don’t.” I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Whatever you’re about to say, just don’t. I’m going on this date, and you don’t get a say in it.”
“I’m not trying to stop you. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration clear on his face. “I just don’t trust him.”
“You don’t even know him.”
“Exactly. You don’t know him either. He could be—”
“Could be what, Kent? A serial killer? A stalker? Or maybe just a normal guy who wants to get coffee with me?” I stood up, my anger flaring again.
“You need to stop projecting your weird paranoia onto my life. I’m an adult.
I can make my own decisions.” I walked over to the counter and grabbed my headphones, jamming them on my head.
“If you want someone to protect, go fix your shit with Brittany.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but I turned away from him.
A moment later, music filled my ears and whatever he might’ve tried to say was drowned out by the synthwave.
I grabbed my stylus and began to draw, intent on finishing these client concepts or at least looking busy enough that Kent would leave me the fuck alone.
And, thanks to some higher power I didn’t understand, Kent didn’t bother me.
Maybe he was finally starting to take a fucking hint.