Stepbrother With Benefits 17 (Third Season) (9 page)

"Hey, I had a towel on," I say, correcting her. "Also, what the fuck were you in my room for in the first place?"

"Oh, right. It's the art event I told you about. We're going to Ashley's school for the first showing. I had a really good idea for it and I was hoping you'd come and be a part of one of the exhibits."

"I don't do art," I tell her. "I don't even fucking understand anything artistic. Stuff looks nice, I guess? I have no idea what art means."

"Art means whatever you want it to mean," she says, philosophical as fuck. "It's about perception and what you think it is. A hundred people could see the exact same painting and see a hundred different things."

"Maybe," I say. I don't know if I believe her, but, maybe.

"I wanted you to help me with a performance art piece. We're doing a social media type of thing with it, for voting, and I had a really good idea. One of Caleb's friends is helping me with it. DJ Scotch Tape. Do you know him?"

"Don't you ever fucking call him that again, Scarlet. You're just enabling him. He's... fuck, what were we going with? Uh..."

"Jefferson, I guess, but I think DJ Scotch Tape is kind of cool. I don't know what you have against it. Have you listened to some of his music? It's fun."

"Get the fuck out of here," I tell her. Contrary to what I say, she does not get the fuck out of here.

"This isn't your room," she tells me. "You get the fuck out of here."

We're at an impasse, I guess. Fuck.

"Alright, let's forget that. Just tell me what this idea is? Also, you owe me. You have to help me make it up to Ashley. You have to tell her you're horny as fuck or something and you're going insane, so you couldn't keep your hands off me and it's not my fault you stripped in my room."

"I'm not telling her that!" she says, sassing me. Holy fuck, first it's Caleb, now her? "I'll tell her what happened and that I was confused and it was a mistake, but that you kicked me out of your room and it was my fault. That's it."

"Damn," I say. "I feel bad for Caleb, though. He's got to have sex with you for some erotic art video and you aren't even going insane over how horny you are for him?"

"It's none of your business if I'm horny for Caleb!" she says without realizing what she's saying. "Um... shut up. Fuck you. Stop twisting my words around."

"So you are," I add. "You want his cock."

"Go to hell. I changed my mind. I'm not going to get Jefferson to help me and you can't come to the art exhibit."

"Whoa, calm the fuck down. You owe me."

"Be nice to me," she says. "
Or else
."

Yeah, so... remember when I said the animals on the blanket looked cute as fuck? I'm changing my mind. I don't know what's going on here, but Scarlet is looking at me like an insane serial killer, and for some reason the animals look kind of the same now. Insane fucking serial killer animals that are pretending to be cute, but they'll cut you. Holy fuck.

"I am nice to you," I say, partly to save myself from her insanity, and also because I think I've been pretty fucking nice to her so far, don't you? "Just... I need to talk to Ashley. Scarlet, I really love her, and I don't want to fuck this up, and I think I kind of fucked it up today. Fuck if I know. I need to explain it, but my phone's dead and--"

She reaches across the bed and grabs her phone off the window sill nearby, then she tosses it at me. "Here. You can use mine."

I catch it. It's pink with a picture of Sleeping Beauty on the back, except this Sleeping Beauty has tattoos, I guess. Yeah... so... holding this phone, you have no fucking idea how manly I feel right now. Real fucking manly, let me tell you.

Whatever. Who cares? I need to talk to Ashley. I'll do whatever it takes, even if it means using Scarlet's girly as fuck tattooed fairytale princess phone.

I swipe to unlock it and then dial Ashley's number. The phone rings. Then it rings again. It keeps ringing. Just three times. Then it goes to voicemail.

I hang up and call again. This time it only rings once before going to voicemail. Fuck. I try once more and it doesn't ring at all. Holy fuck, she ignored me. I mean, yeah, so she's ignoring Scarlet, not me, but I'm not sure this is any better.

"Hey, uh... this is Ethan," I say. "I'm calling from Scarlet's phone. Fuck, this seems bad, doesn't it? I'm not calling from Scarlet's phone for any particular reason, alright? My phone is dead. I didn't have sex with Scarlet, either. I know what it looked like. I didn't know you were watching. It's the fucking webcam thing. I set it up to automatically accept requests from you, so..."

I really should have thought about what I was going to say before I called her.

"Fuck. I didn't mean it like that. It's not like I didn't have sex with her just because you were watching. I wouldn't have at all. Scarlet's insane. I don't want to have sex with anyone but you. It was a huge misunderstanding and she's crazy. She's going to tell you why she's crazy on her own, but... yeah... this voicemail message isn't going at all how I expected. Ashley, I'm sorry. Can you call me back? On my phone. It should be charged enough now and I'll bring it with me, so... just... I don't know. I know how pissed you must be at me, but please don't hate me or do anything drastic? I love you and I'm sorry..."

I hang up after a few seconds. Was that the worst apology message in the world or what? Yeah, uh... sorry about that... I was kind of expecting better from myself, too. No fucking clue why.

"That was horrible," Scarlet says.

"Fuck you," I say, then a couple seconds later, I add, "Do you think I should call her back and leave a better message?"

"It wasn't that bad," she says. "I mean, yeah, it was pretty bad, but it was kind of cute and sweet, too."

"So that's a... yes? No? Help me out here."

Before she can answer, the dorm room door opens. It's Caleb. He walks into the room as if nothing's going on, because I guess for him nothing is really going on. He closes the door, goes to put his backpack on his bed, except I'm sitting there.

"Uh... hey?" Caleb says to me.

"What's up?" I say.

"Why are you in my room?"

"Your pretend ex-girlfriend let me in after ruining my relationship and being a crazy bitch," I tell him.

Caleb nods to himself, listening. Then his face turns white. He turns to Scarlet and stammers something completely unintelligible for a few seconds before his brain finally catches up with his tongue.

"You told him about the video?" he asks. "What the fuck, Scarlet!"

Whoa shit, Caleb can swear? I didn't know this was possible. Holy fuck.

"You're mad about that?" she asks him, standing up and confronting him. This looks a little weird, considering he's practically a foot taller than her and she's trying to be fierce, but whatever. I'll allow it. "Caleb, he called me a crazy bitch. You're supposed to stand up for me."

"What do you mean she ruined your relationship?" Caleb asks, turning towards me.

"Um... please don't tell him, Ethan?" Scarlet says.

"Don't tell me what?" Caleb asks.

"Don't worry about it," I say. "When are we making this sex tape? Can I be the director?"

"No, I'm the director," Scarlet says. "It's my tape."

"What the fuck? You're the pornstar actress
and
the director? That's bullshit."

"It's
my
tape!"

"I just think that after what you put me through today you should give me a role."

"You can't be in the video!" Caleb says, turning on me.

"I don't want to have sex with anyone on camera," I add. "It's got a plot or whatever the fuck? Let me be the pizza delivery guy or something. The cable repairman? What kind of porn is this? Are there babysitters involved? Fuck, you know what would be good? Ashley can be a babysitter and I'll be the older brother of the kid she's babysitting, and I show up at the house after she's put him down for bed or something and then we have crazy sex in the living room."

This sounds funny, even to me, but to be completely fucking honest it's also kind of depressing considering my relationship with Ashley is... yeah... let's not even go there right now. Pretty fucking hard to co-star in a porn together when I don't even know if we're together anymore.

"Ohhh... I hadn't ever thought about it, but we could have a side plot?" Scarlet asks.

"Yeah, I know, right?" I say, trying to distract myself. "Side plot with babysitters."

"Why did you tell Ethan?" Caleb asks her. "I thought this was a secret."

"I..." Scarlet stumbles with her words and her face turns red.

"She needed someone to talk to about it," I tell him. "It's no big deal, Caleb. I think it's kind of weird, but it's cool. I'll help you two out. I'll help even if there's no babysitters."

"Maybe something else, but there's not going to be any babysitters," Scarlet says. "We need someone to film this, too. A cameraman or something. Um... sorry, Caleb. I hadn't really thought about that before, but it makes sense, right? Is that alright with you?"

"Uh... so we have to have sex in front of other people now?" Caleb asks.

"Yeah, I'm going to leave you two to talk about that one," I say, making my way towards the door. "Also, I'm going to class, but if Ashley calls back, let me know, alright? I... fuck... just... please, Scarlet? I really don't want to fuck this up. I don't want to fuck up anything with her, but, yeah... that's not going so well right now."

"Alright," she says. "Sorry about before, Ethan."

"What happened?" Caleb asks.

I don't want to answer him. I don't even know how to answer him. I step out into the hall and head back to my room.

I said I was going to class, but... I don't even fucking know if I can. I still feel sick. My stomach is a fucking mess and I feel like I'm going to throw up, but I can't. My head hurts and my heart feels even worse. There's this intense as fuck pounding in my chest. It stopped for a little while when I was talking with Scarlet and Caleb, but it's picking back up again.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Thump thump thump.

I just, uh... so this sounds stupid as fuck, but I want to go to class to prove that I'm responsible. For Ashley, you know? If I skip class, it kind of shows I'm a fuck up, and that I just give up whenever anything gets too hard. And, fuck, yeah, this is pretty fucking hard. My girlfriend might hate me. She may never forgive me. Maybe she'll never be able to trust me ever again, or maybe she won't believe me when I tell her what actually happened. Maybe she won't believe Scarlet, either.

I don't know what I'm going to do if that happens. I have no fucking clue. The only thing I can do right now is try, though. I can go to class, try to pay attention, send her a text message, wait for her to call me back, and...

That's about it. What the fuck else am I supposed to do? I just need a chance to explain myself...

I
don't know
if you know this, but going to class sucks. It's not the
going
part that sucks, it's more the sitting there and trying to take notes and learning part that sucks. I guess it doesn't even really suck, but it's kind of difficult, you know?

Also, what the fuck, these girls keep staring at me. Seriously, I'm in class here. I'm trying to learn or something. Notes? Yeah, I'm taking them. Not passing notes, or accepting notes from girls asking if I want to meet up with them later. Not those kinds of notes, alright? I'm taking educational notes, writing information down, trying to learn stuff.

It's not like I don't know how to take notes in class, but, uh... yeah... I've been a little less into it in the past. Write a few things down here and there, whisper something to the girl of the week, make jokes with some guys, whatever.

I'm not doing that now. Leave me the fuck alone, alright?

"Brittany!" I say, practically shouting with joy when I notice she's in my next class. "I need your help. Help me?"

She looks at me like I'm a piece of meat, eyeing me up and down, one brow raised. Then she winks. Fuck.

"Oh, yes, what does the mighty Ethan Colton need help with from lil ole me?" she asks, toying with me.

"Stop trying to undress me with your eyes, woman," I say to her. "Come, uh... just sit the fuck down next to me, alright?"

"Whoa, demanding much or what?" she says, laughing and following me.

I sit down at the end of a row of seats. Last seat on the left. I pat the seat next to me and she sits there. Good. I'm blocked in.

"So what's up?" she asks.

"I need you to keep girls away from me," I tell her. "I'm trying to take notes and study and shit, alright?"

"Are you serious?" she asks me.

"Yeah, for real," I say. "Do you know how distracting it is when a bunch of girls keep trying to get your attention?"

"Oh, sure," she says. "I meant the studying and note taking, though. You're actually going to take notes?"

"Yeah, just... hold on a second."

I take out my phone and check for a message from Ashley. And... there's nothing. Fuck this. This is way too difficult. I guess relationships are difficult. I should have fucking realized this before I started one, but it's a little too late now, don't you think? And if I'd known in advance? Pretty sure I still would have started it, but maybe I could have figured out how to be a good boyfriend first.

I start to text Ashley, but I don't know what to write. I should use a rule. Yeah, that seems like a good idea. What's a good rule for right now, though?

Rule number eleven – I'm going to eat your sweet fucking pussy at least once a day. Maybe twice, or three times. Maybe all fucking day, Ashley.

Uh... yeah... let's not go with that one. That's a good one for when she's not angry as fuck at me, but probably not right now.

There's other rules, though. I know them, but I... don't know them. Seriously, this is why we need to write this shit down. I suddenly realize that this is why people take notes in class. I should have been taking relationship notes this entire time.

See? I'm learning stuff already! I'm so fucking good at this.

And now I've remembered a good rule. It's basically exactly what I want to say.

I write it all down and then read it over to make sure I didn't fuck anything up. When I'm sure that I've got it all right, I hit send.

Rule number twenty-two is that I'll never break any of the rules. Never. I promise.

"That's cute," Brittany says, leaning towards me and staring at my phone. "You've got rules? With your girlfriend? What's twenty-two?"

"Hey, why are you such a nosy bitch?" I ask, teasing her and nudging against her shoulder playfully.

"Because I'm the head cheerleader and you're the starting quarterback," she says. "Pretty sure it's in my job description to be a nosy bitch to you."

"Fuck, I think you're right," I say, laughing. "Uh... rule number twenty-two is just that I won't break any of the rules."

"Uh oh..." she says, sort of laughing, but giving me one of those looks, too. "What'd you do?"

Why are girls so good at giving you looks like that? It's like, oh, you can't just get a pissed off look from your girlfriend, you have to get a look of disappointment from every other fucking girl in the entire world, too. It's a huge fucking conspiracy or something, I swear. They're all in on it, all waiting to gang up on you.

"I didn't even do anything," I tell her. "Listen, this is kind of a secret, so don't go spreading rumors, but there was a misunderstanding and a girl I'm friends with thought I was coming on to her. She snuck into my room while I was in the shower, and when I came back in just my towel, she started stripping down, then Ashley saw it on accident over my webcam, so..."

"Right," Brittany says, sarcastic, nodding at me. "The classic 'I swear it's a misunderstanding and I wasn't getting naked with a girl, she just came into my room while I was in the shower' excuse. I see how it is."

"That's not even a classic excuse," I say, glaring at her. "Who the fuck has ever used that excuse?"

"You?" she says, sassing me. "Why did Scarlet sneak into your room anyways? She doesn't even go to this school. How'd she get in the dorms?"

"What the fuck? I didn't say it was Scarlet."

"She's the only girl you're friends with besides me," Brittany counters. "I sure wasn't getting naked in your room. You rejected me already. I'm done with you."

"Wow," I say, shaking my head. "Really, Brittany. Wow. Also, I have no fucking clue why she was in my room. Seriously, she's crazy. She's nice, though. We talked and got it all straightened out, but... I can't get in touch with Ashley and it's freaking me out."

"Don't you worry about a thing, Ethan. I'll protect you. You can be my damsel in distress."

"Yeah, uh... I'm not sure how I feel about that. Damsel in distress?"

"Dude in distress?" she offers. "That sounds kind of historical, but maybe time travel historical. Like a cross between that
Outlander
show and the movie
Dude, Where's My Car?
"

"You're fucking weird, Brittany, but sure, let's go with it."

"I'm weird? I'll have you know that I've been the subject of at least five girl's irate glares because they think we're flirting right now. This is why you need me. I'm the best knight in shining armor for a dude in distress like yourself."

I shrug, and she just laughs at me. Our professor walks in right then and heads towards the center of the room, ready to start our class.

"Thanks, by the way," I say, mumbling. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she says, smiling. "We can share notes later, alright? I'll let you copy mine in case you miss something. Don't worry too much if you get a little lost."

"Cool."

I take out a notebook and a pen and get ready to write. That's how this works, right? Uh... fuck, should I have brought my laptop? Typed this all up? I have no fucking clue.

Brittany takes out a notebook and a pen, too, though. Aw yeah. If it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me.

The class starts and I write, but I think I miss half of everything. Who fucking knows? I show her what I've written down before we leave and she checks my notes, then claps.

"Good job!" she says. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? This class was a little easier. I like how he stopped and gave examples a lot. Made it easy to catch up with taking notes sometimes."

"Wait, what? This one was easier? Holy fuck. I'm going to die. Seriously, that was horrible. I think my fingers are dead."

"Awww, poor baby," she says. "Do you need a finger massage?"

"Is that a real thing?"

"I think it's usually called a manicure. Should I come by later with my nail kit and help you do your nails?"

I stare at her, brow furrowed. She laughs at me and pushes my shoulder.

"What's your next class?" she asks. "Let's go."

"Oh, uh... yeah, sure. It's Sophomore Seminar or something, whatever the fuck that is."

"Oooh, me too! It's just an English course, basically. Writing essays and stuff like that. We have to give a speech at the end of the class, too. It'll be fun."

"Fuck," I say. No other word is necessary.
Fuck
will do the job.

"Shut up. Come on."

She grabs my arm and practically drags me out of the room. She eases up when I check my phone, though.

"Anything?" she asks.

"Not yet," I say, hopeful. I guess that's how this is going to go. I should stay hopeful, right?

I just... what if she's doing something? What if some guy is flirting with her and she's pissed at me, and...

"If you piss off a girl and she thinks you slept with someone else, would she have sex with someone back?" I ask.

"Like revenge sex?" Brittany asks as we walk to our next class.

"Yeah. That's not really a thing, right?"

"I mean, I guess it's possible. Depends how much you pissed her off."

"
Fuck
."

"I think it depends on the girl, too. What would she usually be doing this time of day?"

"Going to class, I guess," I say.

"She's probably just in class, then!" Brittany says, in what I guess is a
cheer up!
kind of voice. She is a cheerleader afterall. "Let's just hope she doesn't have a really hot professor or something who might take advantage of the frustrated good girl who just found out her boyfriend is cheating on her."

"Do you hate me or what? Really, Brittany..."

"I'm just teasing you. Because, yeah, what do you think the odds are of having a hot professor? It's all old men and women, so--
hello there
..."

We walk into our next class, some huge lecture hall, and standing right there, front and center behind a podium, is a decently handsome younger guy. Brittany stares at him for a little longer than necessary, especially since she's supposed to be protecting me here. What the fuck, Brittany?

Once she's done ogling him, we find some seats. I glare at her. She glares back at me, silly, and crosses her arms over her chest.

"I was just looking," she says. "Stop looking at me like that."

"I'm just looking out for you," I tell her. "I don't want anyone to take advantage of you. What kind of friend would I be if I let that happen?"

"What if I'm the one taking advantage of him, though?" she asks, licking her lips.

"Do you need someone to have sex with? I know some guys. Ron and Jefferson. They're cool. I'll totally hook you up. You could probably have both at the same time if you really wanted."

"Oh yeah? Who are they?"

"They're kind of nerdy. Actually, I'm helping them out. We have a Bad Boy club. They need practice with, uh... flirting and stuff? Fuck if I know. I'm working on it."

"Aww, that's cute. I can flirt! They can practice with me. That sounds kind of fun."

"Are you being serious right now?"

The professor gives us a look while the rest of the class is silent. Brittany then gives me a look, like I'm the one who started all of this. Look, I'm not the one who was eyefucking our teacher, Brittany. Fuck you.

We take out our notebooks and pens and get ready for more notes. Fuck these notes. I take them anyways, but serious, fuck these notes. I'm bringing my laptop next time so I can type everything out instead.

Brittany hands me a note when the professor isn't looking. I read it quick in between writing.

I'll help,
it says.
No sex, though. I was just kidding about that. You should make it a secret. Tell them to flirt with me but don't tell them I know they're going to try. It'll be more fun.

I write a reply quick and hand it back to her.
Sure, sounds good.

Then it's notes. I'm learning here, leave me the fuck alone. Note taking is a little easier this time. It's not as bad as I thought. Maybe it gets easier with practice. Like football, right? Football is a million times more fun, but... wait a second...

The next time I write something important down that I need to remember for later, I draw a football around it after. Just some notes, written in the center of a football. The next note goes along with an X's and O's drawing of one of my football plays, kind of like they belong together. Another one fits in the middle of some goalposts, and then some more written along the center yard line of a football field.

Holy fuck, this is amazing. It's football and notes all in one! Fuck yeah. It's easier to remember them this way, too. Kind of. Maybe. I'm going to have to work on that, but I think I might be on to something...