Asher
I’m the worst brother in the world. Ethan might not want to believe it, but I know it’s the truth. I’m trying to make it up to him, be the brother he deserves, but lately every day feels like a test of that ambition. And the ultimate test? My stepsister, Lilah Kelly. Right now, she’s sitting in front of me, looking too fucking pretty while devouring a burger.
Ethan: Are you on your way back?
Just one message from Ethan has the guilt tightening like a noose around my neck.
Me: Stopped at Maccas. Shouldn’t be too much longer.
My intention was to use the drive-through, but when I saw that the line extended out the carpark, I decided it would be quicker to take Lilah into the restaurant to eat. The only people in here, though, are the staff and us, and for some reason, sitting with her like this in the empty restaurant during the empty hours of the morning, feels a hell of a lot like a date.
I hate how much I’m enjoying it. Enjoying her.
She’s finally sobering up a little, the greasy burger probably helping somewhat. She licks the sauce from her lip, and that tiny action causes heat to snake through my middle and fill the pit of my stomach. I take off my beanie and run a hand through my hair, trying to cool down before jamming the hat back on my head and trying to pretend she doesn’t have me all kinds of fucked up. That I haven’t jacked off more to thoughts of her than I have my girlfriend.
Jesus, no wonder Maddie feels so threatened.
Would you believe me if I told you I saw Lilah first? I thought she was supposed to be mine. I wasn’t the one she wanted, though. No, she wanted Ethan. And while I couldn’t blame her for that - I’ve already mentioned, Ethan is the better brother – the thought she was always meant to be mine has messed with me for years. I’ve fought that knowledge with everything I have, acting like a complete arsehole and showing her my worst side. I pushed her away, slammed the window shut on my feelings for her and acted like I hated her.
Eventually, I got so good at pretending that I even started believing my own bullshit. I convinced myself and everyone around me that Lilah was my enemy. All of us, even Ethan, fell for my act hook line and sinker. Then Lilah was assigned as my duet partner, and my act went to shit. Suddenly, everything she did forced me to see her differently – to take the blindfold off and see her as she really is.
And now?
Now, I can’t stop seeing her. I can’t go back to hating her. Nor can I stop myself from wanting her.
Worse than all of that, I think Lilah wants me, too.
She shouldn’t. Not after everything I put her through. My epic arsehole act was supposed to shut the window on any chance of there ever being an us. But I underestimated a few things, like her ability to forgive me. Lilah was so damn determined to get into the showcase that she chose to overlook the way I acted toward her just so we could get our duet done. Forcing us to work together made us both aware of what I already knew deep, deep down. Lilah and me, we click.
Now that Lilah seems to have figured that out, the window of opportunity for us looks to be opening, letting me catch glimpses of how good things could be if I acted on what I feel.
All I have to do is betray my brother in order to take what I want.
“That was so good,” she tells me, slumping back against the back of the booth.
Now that she’s finished her burger, I should get her out of here, take her home, put her to bed. Okay, not put her to bed. Not when I can’t shake off the desire to bury myself inside her. The need to have her beneath me is an itch underneath my skin, one I can never scratch. But you get the idea, we need to exit. Stat. Except she promised she’d elaborate on her slipup once she’d eaten.
I lean forward and put my elbows on the table. “You promised me an explanation once you’d eaten.”
The way her face falls is laughable.
“You remember that?” she winces.
I can’t help but smirk. “Yes, Lilah. Now, spill.”
She sighs. “What did I say again?”
I don’t believe for a minute she doesn’t remember, but if she wants to buy herself some time, I’ll play along.
“You said the reason our duet isn’t as good as it could be is because it’s not honest.”
She also mentioned feeling things for me that are different to the lyrics we wrote a while back. I can’t tell her that, though. Nor can I repeat what she said about being unable to rewrite the duet for fear of giving away how she feels about me. We can’t have that conversation. In fact, this entire conversation is a risk, one I should leave alone. I should pretend I never heard her. It would be safer to let it go.
So why can’t I?
Lilah chews on her bottom lip and studies me. I don’t think she has any idea that I can tell what she’s thinking. She’s trying to work out how much she can get away with not saying.
“It’s not that our song isn’t honest, I mean it was at one point, but now…”
“Now, what?”
Why am I pushing this? Clearly, I’m a masochist. Knowing for sure that a window of opportunity is opening for us is a bad, bad idea.
“Well,” she looks at me. “A hate song didn’t work. And then we wrote about not being at war, but not quite being friends.”
I nod.
“But we did become friends, didn’t we?”
I study her and see her desperate need for me to acknowledge it. “Yeah, Lilah, we did.”
“You said you missed me.”
My heart squeezes at the soft and vulnerable expression she’s wearing. “I did.”
I should never have said it, but at the time I hadn’t been able to stop myself. Now that we’ve stopped fighting, she slips under my defences and makes me forget where the lines are between us.
It’s a problem.
“I…” she trails off.
I wait her out, desperate to hear what she will say.
She casts her gaze down to the table and I fight the instinct to reach out and touch her face, tilt her chin up, so she’s looking at me.
“I don’t know what I was saying,” she tells the table. “I was drunk.”
It pisses me off how much I hate her copout and how my stomach wants to revolt against the soda I drank at the party. Her comment is a kick in the guts. But this is probably for the best, right? No good can come of her saying something different.
When she looks at me, she’s wearing a slightly pleading expression. “Please can we drop it?”
“Okay,” I say, letting it go for the sake of my sanity. For the sake of my relationship with my brother.
Her surprise is unmistakable, and I can’t tell if she’s pleased or disappointed that I’m letting her off the hook so easily.
Getting to my feet, I say, “We should head home. I need to get back to the party.”
Back to my brother.
Back to my girlfriend.
“Of course.” She swallows and her smile looks more than a little forced. “Thanks for bringing me.”
She slides from the booth, carrying her rubbish to the bin. I’m relieved she’s sober enough to walk on her own. Touching her when I can never have her is the definition of torture.
After unlocking the car, I get in and start the engine, and we drive home in silence.
As soon as I pull into the drive, she puts her hand on the door handle. “Thanks for the lift, Asher.”
When I put my hand on her arm to stop her from getting out, surprise flickers over her features.
“You know our duet doesn’t have to be based on honesty, right?” I ask.
“I know, but it is supposed to be emotional and that’s easier to create when it’s honest, when it’s based on genuine and real emotion.”
I nod. “Okay, but if we rewrite our lyrics so they don’t entirely represent the truth of our relationship yet still provide the emotion we need, then that’s better than what we have now, isn’t it?”
“What are you suggesting?”
Yes, what the hell am I suggesting?
“I’m saying that if we were to write a song that is full of emotion, an emotion that isn’t hate or conflict and confusion, then certain people might think something they shouldn’t and get upset.”
Certain people like Ethan and Maddie.
“But if it’s not based on fact,” I continue, “then it would be better received by those who aren’t the judges. Do you understand?”
I must be out of my damn mind. Despite the fact I haven’t had a drop of alcohol tonight, I’m convinced I’m drunk. Why else would I come up with this insanely stupid idea and then say it out loud? Sure, I’m being vague with Lilah, but as she looks at me, I’m sure she is at least somewhat aware of my underlying meaning.
“I think so. You’re talking about us writing a song where we’re…more than friends?”
Her voice comes out a little breathless and underneath the lights in out driveway I can spot the flush high on her face. It’s almost unbearable. So many times, I’ve imagined her looking at me the way she is right now. Imagined her breathless because I’m working her up with my hands, my tongue, my body between her legs; making her whisper, beg, sob for me. Dark hot need rips through me, settling in my gut and tightening my body, urging me to reach out and pull her to me, take her like I’ve always wanted to.
Fuck, I need to wrap this up before I do something incredibly stupid – more stupid than suggesting we write a song that will blow my personal life to pieces.
“Or thinking about being more than friends,” she adds.
She’s looking at my mouth and when she darts her tongue out, running it along her lip, the action goes straight through me, making me ache with the need to be with her.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” I say, my voice rough as gravel.
Hopefully by then I’ll have come to my senses, and I can tell her I slept on it and decided it’s a horrible idea.
The problem is, she’s right about our song. It needs more kick. It’s too bland. It wasn’t when we started with the new lyrics, but I know our duet would work much better as something else. A song about a need we both can’t control or act on would be more convincing, provide a better tension and deeper emotional component. But how the hell do l explain all of that to Ethan? To Maddie?
It's just a song.
Will they buy that explanation when it would be…a lie?
“Okay, tomorrow,” she says.
Her soft husky words are both a promise and a threat.
As soon as I see she’s inside the house, I reverse out of the driveway and turn my music up. It doesn’t drown out the guilt and worry suddenly gnawing at me. Did I just propose I write some kind of love song with my stepsister? My brother’s ex? The one girl who tempts me beyond compare and the one I have had to actively resist and push away for years?
Fuck, I think I did.
Back at Remy’s, I seek out Ethan. He’s still out on the patio, Maddie and Ainsley sitting on either side of him. Maddie throws an accusing glare my way when she sees me walking towards them. Leaving it up to Ethan to tell Maddie I was taking Lilah home probably puts me in the bad boyfriend category. I’ll need to apologise at some point.
Ethan looks me over as I take the seat next to Maddie. I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I worry my guilt is written all over my face.
“How’s Lilah?”
“She’d sobered up a little by the time I dropped her home.”
Ainsley leans forward and smiles a bitchy smile. “Did you tuck her in, too?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “She let herself into the house.”
After I proposed we write a love song for our duet.
Not that I’ll be mentioning that to my brother or the girls.
Silently calling myself every kind of fool, I look at Maddie, noting her empty glass. “You want a top up?”
“Yes, I do.” She stands up, motioning for Ainsley to join her. “But I think I’ll get it with Ainsley.”
Ainsley shoots me a triumphant look then strolls towards the kitchen with my girlfriend.
When I turn to look at Ethan, he’s studying me in a way that makes me fear the word GUILTY is flashing over the top of my head.
He leans back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “Maddie was pretty pissed you left to take Lilah home.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Ainsley used the opportunity to wind her up about Lilah.”
I give him a pointed look. “Well, we both know she’s good at winding people up.”
Ethan’s smile is mocking as he raises his beer in my direction. “You’re the one who told me she was the perfect rebound when I broke up with Lilah, remember?”
“You won’t let me forget.”
And I’m never going to stop paying for it.
He almost chuckles at my response. Pointing in the direction of the bonfire, he says, “Jacob came out here after you left, asked me if I knew where Lilah was. I told him you took her home. He seemed pretty worried.”
I scowl. “Then he shouldn’t have left her to pass out drunk and alone.”
He nods. After a pause, he says, “You were so worried you decided to take her home straight away?”
Here we go. The inquisition. I wish I didn’t have to explain myself to my brother, but I do.
“I was her ride here. It made sense.”
“And things weren’t too weird between the two of you?” He shifts in his chair, turning his body towards mine. “You know, since you’ve stopped hanging out with her when I’m not around?”
“They were fine,” I say carefully.
“She seems happier now that the two of you are rehearsing again.”
My brother has a sixth sense when it comes to Lilah and me. Thank God he didn’t witness her drunk ramblings.
I shrug. “You know how important the showcase is to her.”
“I sure do.”
The silence that stretches between us is far from comfortable. There’s a tension between us that wasn’t there before Lilah and I started working on the duet. I hate it, and I don’t know how long it will take to disappear, or if it ever will completely go away. My brother is riding the edge when it comes to Lilah and me. I learned that the night Ethan went off at the two of us over dinner. The night before the party at our place.
“You told me I had to end it,” he said to me as I closed his bedroom door behind me. “You made me think we could never work out long term if MOD was to succeed.”
“It was what I believed at the time.”
“I still love her. I will always love her, but now she likes you-”
“It isn’t like that.” I crossed my arms, trying not to look affected when my heart was close to beating out of my chest and nausea rolled through me. “We’re working on the duet, Ethan. We’re friends-”
“You can’t tell me that’s all. Not when…” he choked on his words. “Not when she looks at you the way she used to look at me.”
Before that night, I’d never seen my brother cry, so seeing him on his bed with a bottle of Dad’s whiskey in hand, tears in his eyes, nearly destroyed me. Ethan might be the younger brother, but he’s a fucking saint in my eyes.
I mean, not once did he make me feel like I was less than him when Jesse pulled me off the street. Ethan called me brother from the get-go, as if there was no concern for what I could do or the ways I could shit all over his life. Instead, he showed me his guitar and basically pushed himself on me until I couldn’t help but like the guy. Love him like the brother he is.
And how did I repay him? By liking the one girl he wanted to date. It doesn’t matter that I saw her first. Not when she loved him first. The fact I’m the reason he ripped out his own heart and ended things with Lilah makes wanting her the way I do the worst betrayal.
“She doesn’t look at me like that,” I told him desperately.
“Bullshit! She does, and you know it. Don’t you do that, don’t pretend you don’t see the way she looks at you.”
“I would never do that to you. I would never touch her!”
“Good to know.” The look on his face had been gut-wrenching. “But it doesn’t change the fact she does look at you. I see it. I feel it. And it fucking wrecks me. Wrecks. Me. I hate it. I hate it so fucking much.”
I’d hugged my brother that night to stop him falling to pieces. Only I didn’t succeed.
Lilah doesn’t realise I took a step back from our friendship because I was tempted to cross lines I swore I never would. If we’d kept going the way we had, I would have broken every promise I made my brother. I would have become the worst kind of liar. I had an awful childhood; I’ve seen more shit than anyone will know, but I know right from wrong. Loving your brother’s girl is wrong, but loving her and making a move on her after you’ve ruined your brother’s relationship with her? That shit is truly unforgivable.
“We’re back,” Ainsley announces in a sing-song voice, as if I don’t have eyes.
Instead of going back to her seat, Ainsley plops down in Ethan’s lap. Ethan smiles at her indulgently, wrapping his arm around her waist, but he’s merely going through the motions. I see that now. I see that the way he is with her is different to how he was with Lilah. Maybe I deluded myself into believing he was genuinely moving on, convinced myself that he was getting over Lilah because I desperately wanted him to be over her. Now that I know he’s not…
“I got you a refill.”
I look up and see Maddie standing over me, her makeup touched up. She offers me a tin of Coke and I offer her a wry smile in return. “Thanks.”
She sits down in the chair next to mine, moving it closer.
“I’m sorry for leaving you here,” I tell her.
“I’m glad you got Lilah home safely. I just wish you’d taken me with you.” Her smile is sweet, but her eyes tell me I’m not forgiven. “I could have kept you company.”
“You’re right.”
“Next time take me with you, Ash.”
Knowing there isn’t room for me to disagree with her on this, I nod. “Next time.”
Things with Maddie were never meant to become this serious, but as Lilah and I started working on our duet, our relationship became a convenient cover and a way to keep the spotlight off my changing feelings for Lilah. This past month, however, I’ve come to suspect Maddie’s feelings for me are starting to deepen. Meaning I’m going to have to decide just how far down this relationship rabbit hole I go with Maddie to appease Ethan.
That’s not the only difficult decision that lies ahead of me, either. As I sip my Coke, I stress out about my duet with Lilah. The way I see it, I have two options, and they both suck.
Option one, I attempt to improve the duet by writing some kind of love song with Lilah. I can try and explain to my brother that it’s just a song and it doesn’t mean anything. But I’m not confident Ethan won’t see through the lie. I risk sending my brother off the deep end and damaging our relationship beyond repair. If that happens, Ethan, Dad and I will suffer, and so will MOD.
Option two, I tell Lilah I was wrong to suggest writing about us having a different relationship. Lilah and I then run the risk of the song not making the showcase, thus limiting Lilah’s chances at getting an offer from her dream school. Sure, we can always continue tweaking the lyrics or try a different emotional point of view, but I already know it won’t work as well as a love song could.
I told you, both options suck.
I’ve already wronged both Ethan and Lilah. As if that’s not a bitter enough pill to swallow, I must now decide who I hurt further.
In the end, I already know there is only one choice I can make if I want to live with myself. The almost-crippling ache in my chest, however, is proof I’ve never felt worse about anything in my life.
A/N: Phew! Asher ended up having a lot to say. Let me know if you want more of his POV. Thanks so much for reading, I really love seeing your comments when they come in, and I hope you continue to enjoy reading the story as much as I’m enjoying writing it. XOXO
When is the next chapter coming out
Does anybody know the next release date? 🤔