Forbidden Desires: Embraced By My Stepbrother

I stare deeply at the bubbles of my beer, zoning out despite the raucous atmosphere of the bar.

It's the last week of college. We'd had our graduation ceremony yesterday, and tonight, all the seniors are in Caleb's bar, partying away the last miserable four years of our lives.

Whoever said college is going to be the best time of our lives only wanted money. They just said that to lure innocent teenagers, who will later become broke adults, to pay fees or take out loans to pay fees.

Thankfully, with my mother's past divorces, which I'm not proud of, I am not in any debt.

For me, the last four years were just blank. I can't even remember any of my classes except for philosophy and literature, which are my favorite subjects, because I hope to become a writer someday.

I already write on websites and have loyal fans, but I want to be published and recognized widely.

The thrill of signing autographs on a published book of mine is something I dream of all the time.

"Don't tell me you're zoning out in a bar!" Juliet, my best friend, remarks disapprovingly in my ear, shouting against the loud music.

I reel away from her, rubbing at my ears, echoing with her voice.

"Shit, Juliet!" I reproach, mildly annoyed.

"What?" She giggles, seeming to be having fun. She pulls away the empty stool beside me and plops onto it.

The waiter comes up to her like a robot, smiling briefly.

"I will have a rum, please," she says, batting her eyelashes at him, and I roll my eyes. Juliet likes to get cute with men.

I, on the other hand, have never seemed to be attracted to anyone. I mean, I have the occasional crushes here and there, but then, a guy would speak, and I'd realize that I'd just been delusional.

That's why most of my classmates had boyfriends in college or high school, and I didn't.

And yes, I've chosen to focus on myself and my writing so far. At twenty-three, I'm comfortable with my own pace when it comes to relationships.

The waiter resurfaces with Juliet's rum in a perspiring glass, and she thanks him calmly, with no eyelash batting or gleeful giggles.

"So," she turns to me while sipping at her glass, "why are you being a brick? You should be out there," she gestures behind her to the dance floor, "meeting the hottie of your dreams. I thought you said you would finally try putting yourself out there tonight?"

I wince at Juliet's expression as a heavy sigh leaves me.

Yes, I did say I'd use this opportunity of the get-together to finally let go and be more social, but before I zoned out, I'd looked around the whole bar and realized that I wasn't really feeling a connection with any guy here.

There are three guys I've had a crush on before, and while one of them has been shooting me furtive, interested glances all night, I cannot bring myself to go over to him and start a conversation so directly.

Juliet told me that sometimes, you just have to take a chance.

"Maybe I don't have to be in a hurry. There's plenty of time for that sort of thing," I say cheerfully.

The two girls down the row of the bar turn to look at Juliet, wearing a knowing smile.

One of them winks, and the other hides her giggles with a hand.

I think I may have shouted that a bit too loudly over the music.

"Eva," Juliet's face turns serious, "girl, listen. You should really try tonight, trust me. You know most of the people here. In the real world, it gets trickier to meet people. College is a more familiar environment."

My brows furrow in deep thought. I know she's right. I have had first row seats to the way my mom goes through relationships.

Just when you think he's going to be the one, he decides to show his true colors and then leave her. Mom doesn't marry all her dates, though, she's only married five, and unfortunately for her, they weren't any different from the others.

But fortunately for me, I got to meet their children, and we're still sort of friends even while our parents don't speak.

"Okay," I breathe out in resignation.

"I'll have to drink a bit to loosen up, though," I say to Juliet as I empty my beer in one gulp.

"That's the spirit," she grins, giving me a gentle slap on my shoulder. Her eyes sparkle as she shouts, "Oh!! That was a good pun."

I shake my head at her.

"Don't get too carried away, though, you know how some people can be," she shudders with a grimace.

I chuckle lightly because coming from her? That means she's seen things.

I ordered two glasses of whiskey to revive my motivation for the night.

As I sip away, a grating voice reaches my ears, making me stiffen. My blood pumps fiercely and hot in my veins as my eye twitches slightly, alerting me that the enemy is near.

"Tangerine!" Aaron Coleman shouts his stupid nickname for me.

Before he leans over my shoulders, I finish my second glass of whiskey, wiping my mouth forcefully and getting ready for battle.

Aaron Coleman is the one guy in my life who gets under my skin like no other. From middle school to high school and then to college, Aaron has been a constant thorn in my side.

I thought it was all in my head when I was a kid, but we grew up, and I realized and painfully accepted that Aaron has always been out to get me.

If he isn't trying to steal grades that are rightfully mine by being the best in classes I cherish, then he's making fun of me or twisting my name into something inane.

When we arrived at college years ago, it became Tangerine.

Before that, it was Evanescence, Vaseline, Halloween, or machine. It's never been Evangeline, which is my full name.

Mom used to call me that a lot when I was a child, and since Aaron was always tormenting me after school when mom used to pick me up, he overheard it and decided to twist it.

To everyone else, I'm Eva.

To my mom, I'm Angel on some days.

To Aaron, I'm anything but Eva or Evangeline.

My eyes sparking with unbridled irritation and dislike for Aaron, I spin the stool to face him, shooting him a glare.

"Tangerine, you don't want to see me?" Aaron gasps mockingly, dramatically lifting a hand to his chest as if he's been wounded.

What I hate about Aaron is that despite everything, he's handsome. I could say he's one of the best-looking guys in our senior year.

We did different majors, but had a few classes together. Girls always stared at him. Some boys as well. And it wasn't any different in high school.

Wherever he goes, he's the star of the show.

That shiny blond hair of his that he manages to groom so well is currently styled in a way that some strands cover his forehead, giving him that eternal boyish look he possesses.

His straight nose is perfect, and his lips have a natural, soft-looking curve.

He takes all the attention wherever he goes, and you can't be mad at him. He handles it so well, despite being a rogue and an asshole.

Another thing I remember about him is that Aaron was my third kiss. It happened one night when we were both young and not thinking clearly.

Heat rises to my cheeks as I push the memory away.

I absolutely do not want to dwell on that.

"Go away, Aaron."

"Aw, don't be like that." he ignores my harsh look and steps into my personal space, smelling clean and masculine.

"You two should totally just talk it out," Juliet suddenly says, and I turn around to look at her, my eyes widening with disbelief.

She chuckles innocently, shrugging and sipping from a bottle of beer I didn't realize she'd ordered.

"What? You may not like each other, but everyone knows there's undeniable tension between you two."

I shoot her a glare. "I don't have anything for him!" I squeak.

"I didn't say the tension was coming from you," she replies with a distant look in her eyes, taking a sly glance at Aaron.

I turn to look at him and find him clenching his jaw, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

"Who the heck do you think you are to suggest I want anything to do with Tangerine?" Aaron seethes at Juliet.

Something cold flutters in my chest, briefly stinging me. It takes me a second to realize it's the feeling of being dismissed so harshly.

I know I usually say that I don't want anything to do with Coleman, but hearing him outrightly reject the very idea, with irritation and indignation in his voice no less, tells me everything I need to know.

He may be a constant thorn in my side and is obsessed with getting a rise out of me, but it means he doesn't actually care for me.

I guess the little girl in me had believed that stupid saying that boys teased girls they liked. Aaron was just someone who was fascinated with seeing me react.

Bracing a smile that I hope doesn't reflect that he'd momentarily hurt and offended me with his comment, I say something that instantly comes into my mind.

"Then let's prove there's nothing there."

Both Aaron and Juliet splutter at the same time, taken off guard.

I chuckle at their reactions.

"Scared you might like me?" I taunt Aaron with a smirk.

He quickly recovers, taking a step back from invading my personal space, as if to protect himself from me.

"That's the spirit, Eva! That's what I'm talking about. Tell him who's in charge," Juliet loudly cheers in support beside me, and I can't help the grin that splits my face.

Aaron's expression is a mixture of puzzlement and annoyance.

"I won't give in to your little game, Anderson."

Juliet whoops and cheers beside me. Satisfaction and pleasure unfurl in my chest as a wide smile takes over my face, my eyes gleaming.

If Aaron is rattled enough to address me by my last name for the first time in ages, then that means he's really put off by the idea of my challenge.

Does he really hate me that much?

Weirdly, the thought doesn't affect me as it had done mere seconds ago.

My mission for the night suddenly evolves as I climb down the stool, stepping confidently towards Aaron.

My new mission for the night is to get Aaron Coleman to finally stop running from this... whatever this is between us. We both claim to dislike each other, so maybe facing it head-on will clear the air once and for all.

It will be a decisive moment.

A final showdown.

When I come to his feet, I tilt my head up, smiling brightly. Good thing I'd gone all out with the makeup, I can't imagine how striking my red lipstick will look from his angle.

Aaron is over six feet, while I'm five feet, ten inches, which is kind of tall for the average woman.

But still, with my height, he's towering over me, his gaze intense with an unnamed emotion.

"Don't be too chicken, Coleman," I address him by his own last name in a low, challenging whisper that flutters up to his ears because the DJ has just turned down the volume of the electro-disco music that's been blasting for the past hour.

Around us, the rest of the partygoers fade into the background as we get locked in a silent standoff.

Something prickles my skin when the sudden realization that I've never been this close to Aaron hits me.

I've never looked into his eyes like this deeply before, and most certainly have not been this close to him for long.

His eyes are an odd shade of blue. It's like a mixture of sunny sky and a dark ocean at night.

When our kiss happened that night in middle school, we'd been playing that game from the pits of hell: truth or dare.

Some hellion had dared Aaron to kiss me, and so he did, a quick and awkward peck.

Right now, the proximity between us is anything but a game. There's hardly any space, with my chest almost touching his torso.

Aaron's eyes blaze with something fierce and challenging, and I swallow deeply, thinking that this might be a mistake.

But surely, it can't be. Aaron is known for his competitive streak, as the girls like to say. I don't know all his history, but I think it's safe to say that confronting him like this requires nerve.

The rivalry he feels for me might push him to see this through. I don't know if I'll be able to handle the fallout, but the tension between us has built for years, and tonight feels like the time it finally snaps.

"Don't regret this, Tangerine," Aaron quietly says, his eyes still swimming with that fierce, determined emotion.

My smile is shaky as I reply, "Trust me, I'm ready to see this through."

Annoyance flickers in his eyes at my response, and I start to feel like I'd said the wrong thing.

Is there anything wrong with my response? He told me not to regret it, and I'm committed to facing whatever comes next.

I've never understood my feelings toward Aaron, and I'm confident that no matter how this confrontation ends tonight, it will bring some clarity.

A warm hand snakes around my wrist, jolting me from my thoughts. I glance down to find Aaron holding me.

Before I can say anything, he pulls me through the throng of our dancing classmates' bodies and away from the raucous bar.

Juliet's shouts are muffled by the loud music the DJ has turned up again.

We come out into the cool night as Aaron continues to lead me down the alley, his pace determined.

"Wait, slow down!" I say when I nearly stumble over my heels.

Aaron stops, his breath harsh and fast.

He doesn't turn to look at me, but the edge in his voice, with his head bowed like that under a streetlight, tells me that he's reached his limit.

And it occurs to me that it's not because he's swept up in some game.

But he's breathing that hard and talking with an unrestrained edge to his voice because all the years of rivalry and tension have finally boiled over, and he wants to settle this now. Once and for all.

"You've set this in motion, Tangerine, and there's no stopping it now," he says darkly, his grip firm on my wrist. Then, as if making a decision, he pulls me to follow him, his presence overwhelming in the quiet alley.

A couple more steps, and we turn a corner. Aaron carries me into a building not too far from the bar we'd just left.

I can't see anything because he's got my head resting against his shoulder, my feet dangling from his arms.

He stops moving, and then I hear a voice. He's talking to someone.

"Just one room," Aaron says, his voice strained.

Again, I swallow deeply.

He sounds tense, his voice carrying an unfamiliar weight. My cheeks flush when I recall how intensely he had looked at me just a few seconds ago.

It's strange that I've never, for once, allowed myself to consider Aaron in this light. Not seriously.

I've always known and accepted that he's a very attractive guy, but my dislike and constant irritation with him clouded any objective judgments of his presence.

There's the faint sound of keys jangling and then the squeak of a polished desk.

Aaron frees an arm to grab something, and I softly gasp as he holds me steadily with just one arm.

I never realized he's this strong.

The next thing I know, I'm suddenly conscious and fully aware of the solid wall of his chest beneath his woolen sweater.

After collecting whatever it is from the guy he'd been talking to, he resumes his movements. This time, we're going up some stairs.

The rocky movements cause the alcohol in my body to slosh around, making me feel a bit lightheaded. It's just what I need because I'm still very nervous about the turn of events.

Never did I imagine I'd be leaving that bar with Aaron Coleman.

Something beeps. When we pass through, I realize it's a door.

Inside the room, he doesn't let me down as he stretches in the dark, looking for a switch.

He finds it in no time, and the room is suddenly illuminated with bright, cool light.

Silently, I wait for him to take the next action, lowering me to my feet, but he doesn't.

"Uh, you can put me down now," I say, lifting my head from his shoulder to look at him.

My lips part when our eyes meet.

His eyes seem darker, more intense, and his nostrils are flared.

This close, I can even see a muscle ticking in his jaw. It's fascinating, but the tension radiating from him is palpable.

"Whatever happens here tonight doesn't and wouldn't mean anything in the long run," Aaron finally speaks.

Speechless, I give a curt nod.

What I want to say is that, yes, I agree with you. That's the whole point. I don't want it to mean anything else.

But I can't speak. The gravity of this moment, alone with this man who has been a constant, if antagonistic, presence in my life, settles heavily in my chest.

To ward off the slight discomfort that's starting to build, I lean into the fading buzz of the alcohol and press my lips to Aaron's.

Next thing I know, Aaron shifts us, my back meeting the nearest wall as he maneuvers my body, letting my feet find the floor but still pressing me close.

My hands fly up to his shoulders for balance as he deepens the kiss.

Aaron kisses me with a startling certainty.

Like there's a current between us that's finally been switched on, and he's not letting go.

The kiss I'd initiated is no longer my doing as sparks of electricity explode within me, setting my nerves alight.

My entire body feels hyper-aware of his proximity. When the kiss intensifies, I shudder, a soft sound escaping me.

This seems to affect Aaron deeply. He makes a low sound in his throat.

It's not a growl or grunt. It's something deeper, more primal.

A warning that the careful lines we've always drawn are crumbling.

We kiss for what feels like hours before he tears away, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

But Aaron is an athlete. He runs for the school, and while I've never witnessed all his races, I can say I've never seen him this unsteady, this breathless.

His perfectly styled hair is now a mess thanks to my fingers running through it.

Aaron's eyes are dark with a fierce intensity. Pure, undiluted focus.

I wonder if mine hold the same.

When he calms his breathing while I'm still struggling to get mine under control, he says to me, his voice rough, "Tangerine, there's no going back now."

Even while out of breath, I can't help firing back. "This is a one-time thing. A moment of madness. Don't let it go to your head."

This sets his lips into a hard line as he takes a step back, putting a sliver of space between us.

Then, gently, which is surprising since I'd expected more force, he guides me to sit on the edge of the bed. He carefully removes my shoes, his fingers brushing against my ankles, sending a shiver up my spine.

He kneels, looking up at me, and I stare down at him with my heart hammering wildly.

From this angle, with Aaron framed by the light, he looks different. The boyish tormentor is gone, replaced by someone earnest and... vulnerable?

Isn't that what this night is about?

A connection.

But the kind that comes from breaking down years of walls, that kind of raw honesty feels out of this world.

I may have kept to myself for a while, but right now, I feel present in a way I haven't before.

I can't believe what I'm allowing to happen.

Aaron's eyes, still brimming with that intense focus, meet mine.

To go with my black mini skirt, I'd worn a maroon halter top. My mass of curly hair had been let down for the night. I usually pack it in a bun or messy ponytail, but tonight, I'd spent time letting the curls fall freely.

It's one of my favorite things I've inherited from my grandma.

Aaron disperses my hazy thought with his voice. When I jolt back to reality, I realize his sweater is gone.

Well-defined shoulders and arms are now visible.

My breath catches.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a hint of his old smirk returning.

I roll my eyes at him even though my traitorous heart skips a beat.

"You don't have to try so hard, Aaron."

"I know," he says, his expression softening into something more serious, "it's what I've always... noticed about you." Something genuine flashes across his features as he speaks.

The depth and quiet roughness of his voice send a tremor through me.

My voice is barely a whisper. "What?!"

Aaron almost smiles at my reaction.

Did he just say something... real?

But before I can process it, he leans in, his forehead gently touching mine. The gesture is unexpectedly tender.

I let out a shaky breath, taken aback.

He seems to hesitate, then pulls back slightly, his gaze searching my face. The charged atmosphere is still there, but it's mixed with something else-uncertainty, maybe even a flicker of the history we share.

"There's my Tangerine," he murmurs, the old nickname sounding strangely different on his lips now.

I'd have made a retort about the nickname, but the look in his eyes holds me silent. The only sound is our mingled breathing.

By some unspoken understanding, he reaches out and takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine.

"We don't have to..." he starts, then stops, as if fighting with himself. "This is... more than I bargained for."

The admission hangs in the air. Does he find this situation as disorienting as I do?

Something warm and confusing blossoms in my chest at the thought of Aaron being thrown off balance, by me.

But my brain suddenly reminds me of all the years, all the barbs, all the times he refused to call me by my name.

I decide to be honest. "I know," I breathe out. "Me too."

Aaron lets out a long, slow breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. He brings our joined hands up, studying them as if they held an answer.

"Tangerine... Eva," he corrects himself, and the sound of my real name from him feels like a seismic shift.

The vibration of his voice, saying my name, sends a different kind of shiver down my spine.

We aren't where I thought we'd be when we entered this room, but it feels like we're standing on the edge of something vast and unknown.

"I can't pretend this is simple anymore," Aaron voices, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

This time, when he looks at me, the kiss that follows is not wild, but deep and searching. It's slower, as if we're both trying to understand the map of this new territory.

Then, against my lips, he whispers, his voice thick with emotion I can't name.

"No, really. I can't pretend."

Before I can respond, Aaron pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. The frantic energy from before has morphed into a tense, charged stillness. He's not advancing; he's waiting.

A wave of overwhelming realization crashes over me. The bravado, the dare-it has evaporated, leaving behind the raw, terrifying truth of our situation and my own inexperience.

I grit my teeth, a wave of vulnerability threatening to drown me. I don't want him to see it, to guess the secret I've carried in so carelessly.

The air between us grows heavy with what is unsaid. The physical tension is still there, but it's now laced with a profound emotional weight.

"Wait," I breathe out, the word more a confession than a command.

Aaron's own breath is labored. He lowers his forehead against mine once more, a gesture that feels like a surrender. I can feel the warmth of his skin.

"Eva," he murmurs, my name a prayer and a question on his lips.

"It's... this isn't what you expected, is it?" he says, the disbelief in his voice edged with sudden, dawning comprehension.

His remark strips away my last defense, so I don't know when the truth spills out in a sharp, quiet whisper. "What if it isn't?"

Aaron goes completely still against me, his body tense.

"That changes everything," he says in an entirely different voice-softer, slower, devoid of its earlier roughness. It's a voice that tells me the script has been ripped up, and we're staring at a blank page.