STEPBROTHER: Bad Boy Blues (Taboo Romance) (5 page)

I
was on my way home after school when I saw Darwin by his motorbike, chatting with Chelsea Summers... the same girl he seemed to have flirted with two days ago... the same girl who I always saw, from the corner of my eye, staring at him longingly while biting her pencil for a good duration of the day.

It looked like a friendly chat.  A few inches separated them.  But Chelsea’s body language was telling a different story.  She was fidgety as she flashed her smile.  Her hips swayed from side to side as she talked to him.  She wanted him.  She wanted him bad.  And she was savoring the fact that he was so close, she could almost taste him. 

I’m a woman.  I
know
that stuff.

I started to approach them.  He was laughing and she was giggling and they seemed to be so engrossed with what they were talking about that they didn’t even notice me moving towards their spot.

“Hey Darwin,” I greeted him.

He turned around and saw me... finally.  I was smiling at him but he didn’t smile back.  Instead, he looked rather annoyed, as if I disturbed him from doing something important.

“Are you going home soon?” I asked, just to give purpose to my intrusion.

“Soon,” he simply said, rather callously.

“Okay,” I answered.  “Bye.”

Their snickers grew louder as I walked away.  I didn’t dare look back.  I wanted to, but something was stopping me.  Was it the fear of humiliation?  But why would that embarrass me?  Was it wariness, perhaps?  That he would once again act like a jerk?  I’m sure I could’ve handled that.  Was it concern, then?  That I would inadvertently compromise the reputation he was trying to establish in school… a reputation that seemed so important to him?  I’d love to believe that I would have garnered some form of satisfaction from that.

Or was it a cornucopia of feelings, then?  Of resentment and anger and pain and longing?

Jealousy?

I wanted to strike my head with my palm just to bring me back to my senses. 
Why in the world would I be jealous?!
   It’s not as if he was my boyfriend or something.  It’s not like I have the biggest crush on him.  He’s my stepbrother.  My stepBROTHER...
brother
being the operative word!

But then again, if it wasn’t jealousy that I was feeling, what was it?

The stroll home was a short one.  I tend to walk fast when I’m thinking... or when I’m agitated and nervous.

As soon as I got inside the house, a familiar voice greeted me.

“Betty!” Uncle Charlie called.  “How have you been?”

He approached me and gave me a tight hug.

“Everything’s cool, Uncle Charlie,” I answered.  “How are you?  I thought you’d arrive tomorrow?”

“Yep, I could’ve spent more time resting for the long flight to California,” he said.  Then he looked at my mom who was standing right beside him.  “But some things can’t wait,” he continued as he gave her an affectionate smile.

I was delighted to see my mom that happy.

“How’s Darwin?” Uncle Charlie asked.  “Has he been treating you well?”  His voice suddenly revealed a tint of worry.

“Yeah, yeah... he’s alright,” I quickly told him.  It was the truth.  Regardless of Darwin’s... peculiarities... he has been good to me.

“That’s nice to hear,” he stated.  “You will have to forgive him sometimes.  I know he can be somewhat... unusual at times.  I’d like to beg for your kindest understanding whenever my son acts that way.”

To describe him as unusual would be a gross understatement.

“No problem, Uncle Charlie,” I assured him.  “Yeah, I’ve experienced, first hand, how odd he could be, but nothing to worry about.  He’s a sweet boy... whenever he wants to be one.”

“I know,” he acceded.  “I bet he has integrated himself well in his new school.”

How did he know?

“That’s right,” I replied with amazement.  “In just three days, he has become one of the most popular kids in school.”

“He has that... gift,” he revealed.  “He always drowned himself in the company of his peers as a means of coping up.”  Uncle Charlie’s face suddenly turned sad.

“Coping up?” I wondered aloud.  “Coping up with what?”

“With the tragedy, Sweetie,” my mom interceded as Uncle Charlie didn’t seem like he was in any condition to continue the tale.

I was trying to piece everything together when the door suddenly opened.  It was Darwin.  He was surprised to see the three of us huddled up in the living room.

“You guys aren’t talking about me, right?” he immediately asked.

“No, no... of course not,” I answered rather jumpily.

“Good,” he replied as he went straight upstairs, leaving behind the scent of cigarette smoke and his musky perfume.

“It’s nice to see you too, son!” Uncle Charlie belatedly shouted.  I doubt if Darwin heard him as his bedroom door shut before his father could speak.

“So, about this tragedy,” I started as I turned to face my folks once again, hoping to get the story behind my new stepbrother’s erratic behavior.

“Another time, Dear,” my mother pleaded.  “Not when he’s at home.  He might hear us and I don’t want him to remember that day.”

We ate dinner without Darwin who chose to lock himself up in his room.  I washed the dishes, chatted with my mom for a few minutes and then went up to my own chamber.  All the while, my mind was preoccupied with one thought - what kind of tragic event could have molded Darwin into the enigma that he is today?

Before I could reach my room, Darwin’s door slightly opened.  Through the small gap, he called my attention.

“Hey, Elizabeth,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Come here quick.”

I walked towards his door and he opened it just enough for me to squeeze through the aperture. 

The first thing I noticed once I entered his room was how messy it was.  His clothes, his books, his junk, even his cigarette butts... they were all scattered on the floor.  His sheets seemed like they haven’t been fixed nor changed for years, when I just helped my mom clean the guest room a day before he arrived.

The second thing I noticed was his body, shirtless once again.  It wasn’t massive, but it was imposing.  He was well-built in the right places.  And...

And...

Oh my God!

He had rashes all over his skin!

“What happened?” I asked him.  I was at the verge of panicking.

“I dunno,” he answered as he savagely scratched different parts of his upper body.  “I just became itchy all of a sudden, then this happened.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No, no... I never had allergies before.  It’s this damn dry climate!  I always hated California weather!”

I looked around and tried to find something I could use to help alleviate his condition.  Then I remembered the baby powder my mom and I placed in one of the drawers, before the room was occupied.  I ran towards it and opened the compartment.  I was completely shocked by what greeted me.

“Condoms?!” I screamed.  “Seriously?”

“Hey!  I always practice safe sex.”

I grabbed one of the rubber objects and I was appalled to discover that there was a slimy liquid inside it.

“Darwin, these are used!” I shouted yet again.  “These are trash!  Why didn’t you just throw them in the bin?”

“Sentimental value?”  His attempt at wit didn’t get rid of his itchiness.  In fact, he started to scratch even more violently than before.

Carefully, my fingers rummaged through what seemed like a pile of used rubber.  When I found the baby powder, I immediately seized it and went back to where Darwin was.  I applied some talc on his skin and spread it all over his body with my hands.

“Fuck!” he uttered.  “This is why I hated moving here.  Boston’s so much better than this shithole.”

I kept rubbing the powder on his chest, his shoulders, his arms and his back.  I didn’t bother to reply to his complaints.  My mind was thinking about something else.

The condoms.

He’d been in Oakland for just three days... three freaking days!  How come he had like a dozen used rubbers in the drawer?  Who was he fucking?

Rage engulfed me when I realized that there could only be one possible suspect...

Chelsea Summers.

After minutes of rubbing, Darwin’s upper body looked like it was draped in white paint.  At least he wasn’t scratching anymore.  The rashes have seemed to have subsided as well.

“That feels so much better,” he said as he sat on the side of his bed.  I positioned myself behind him as I continued to apply baby powder on his back.

“Good,” I aridly answered.

“Uncivil all of a sudden, huh?” he commented with a grin.

“Uncivil?  If I was uncivil, I wouldn’t be helping you out with your skin problem.”

“In denial, too,” he persisted.  “That time of the month, eh?”  He started to chuckle.

I stopped massaging his back and pushed him strong enough to make him fall off his bed.

“Hey!” he cried out.  “What’s that all about?”

I threw the can of baby powder towards his chest.  He caught it before it could hit him.

“There!” I screamed.  “I’m sure you can carry on by yourself!”

I stood up and started to walk out of his room.  He grabbed my arm and tugged it... just strong enough to gently yank my body and turn it towards him.

“Is this about those condoms?” he asked, smiling.  I was close enough to smell him, to feel the warmth from his body, to see his day-old stubbles sinking on his dimple. 

His dimple.

Damn that cute little thing!

I jerked my arm off his grasp and darted out of his room.  I slammed his door just to let him know how upset I was.  I hurried towards my own bedroom and locked myself in.  I rested my body against the wall adjacent to the door.

I was breathing heavily.

I took a few seconds to calm down, to process what just happened.  Why was I mad at him?  Why was I perturbed over a handful - okay,
more than a handful
- of used condoms?  Why do I hate Chelsea Summers all of a sudden?  Why is my heart racing so fast?