Stepbrother Billionaire(8)

Riley almost dies when I give her all the juicy details a few days after the party. Turns out she let us get separated when the cops showed up, so that Emerson and I could have an “adventure” all on our own.

“So, he basically took off your panties and finger-banged you,” she sums it up as we head off on a coffee run during our school lunch hour.

“That is a very liberal translation,” I say, blushing like crazy as I stare out the passenger side window.

“He is so into you,” Riley grins. “I can’t believe it, after all this time.” She catches my frown and backtracks. “I mean, I can totally believe why he’d be into you, it’s just—”

“I know that’s he a bit above my pay grade, Ri,” I tell her, leaning back against my seat. “I’m not exactly up to par with the girls he usually hangs out with.”

Without preamble, Riley swerves violently onto the shoulder of the main road, causing me to yelp in abject terror.

“Listen to me,” she says firmly, taking my face in her hands. “You are every bit as sexy and bitchin’ as Emerson Sawyer. He’d be lucky to have you, Abby.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I insist. “He’s the badass, gorgeous lacrosse star, I’m the weird, short, artsy girl. If this were a teen movie, maybe we’d stand a chance. But I know my place on the food chain. Guys like Emerson don’t go for girls like me.”

“Oh please,” Riley moans, rolling her eyes, “In a few months’ time, we’re all gonna be out in the real world. You could take your high-waisted shorts and dark lipstick-wearing self to any major city and be an ‘it girl’ in three second flat. The rest of these *s will have already peaked in high school, so count your blessings that you’re a weirdo now.”

“Thanks? I think?” I laugh, “Really, Ri. You always know how to cheer me up.”

“Damn straight I do,” she says, tossing her black curls over her shoulder. “That’s what best friends are for—assuring you that boning your maybe-someday-stepbrother is totally chill as long as your dad doesn’t put a ring on it first.”

I shake my head as Riley laughs, pulling back onto the road with the radio blasting.



I try my best to keep Riley’s words of encouragement close to my heart as the silence between me and Emerson continues on. You’d think we were locked in a nuclear arms race, for how cold things have become between us. I catch glimpses of him at school, and have the unfortunate experience of watching Courtney try to stick her tongue down his throat on more than one occasion. But as the days until my eighteenth birthday tick away, the silent treatment goes on.

A few days before my grand entrance into adulthood, I arrive home from school irritated and disgruntled. The stress of college applications and AP course work coupled with the ongoing radio silence between me and Emerson has me way on edge. So the very last thing I want to see when I walk in front door of my home is Dad and Deborah, making out like a couple of teenagers against the kitchen island.

“Jesus,” I mutter, starting for my room, “Is everybody getting some action around here besides me?”

“Oh! Abby!” Deborah giggles from the kitchen, “Good. You’re home.”

“Hi Dad. Hi Deb,” I mutter gloomily, standing at the foot of the stairs. “I’m just gonna head up to my room and get some studying in—”

“Nooo, come on. Come chat with us first!” Deb insists, bustling out into the foyer to apprehend me.

Though Emerson and I are the same age, Deborah is about ten years my dad’s junior. Truth be told, she looks even younger than her biological age. Her voluminous platinum blonde hair is always arranged in luscious curls, her makeup applied perfectly. This stands to reason, given that she works as a freelance makeup artist, mostly doing weddings and the like. She’s way taller than I am, especially given her penchant for wearing three-inch heels. And, I have to admit, the lady’s got a killer rack. Between the tits and her habit of wearing loud neon colors, it’s no wonder that my dad took notice of her. My question is, what does she see in him?

I wouldn’t say that my father is unattractive. He’s just very...unremarkable. He was quite the looker as a younger man, but my mom Sandy was the real beauty. Their wedding pictures look like something out of a movie. I inherited my mom’s facial features, but missed out on her vibrant red hair and hourglass curves. Can’t pick and choose what you inherit from your parents, I guess. And you certainly don’t get to choose who your parents are in the first place.

“It’s been ages since we’ve had a good talk,” Deb gushes, plunking me down at the kitchen table. “Tell me everything. How’s school? Any boyfriends? Spill, girl!”

I glance over at my father, silently begging him not to make me engage in small talk with his girlfriend. But he just grins at the two of us like we’re some big, happy family. As grating as Deb can be, I haven’t seen my dad smile like this in years. It’s the least I can do to muscle through some mindless chatter.

“Well,” I begin, “I dunno...”

The sound of the front door opening is my saving grace. I look over my shoulder and see Emerson stride across the threshold, making a beeline for his room. But Deborah has other plans, and rushes out to greet him with a squeal.