The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

He's Your Stepbrother, Annie

20

He's Your Stepbrother, Annie

After blow-drying my hair in records time, I hastily slip into a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. It's fitted and stops above my belly button, and for a minute I figure that it's too short and I should probably change. Then, I roll my eyes as realization dawns on me; crop tops are supposed to be short. Forcing the thought away, I start to head downstairs, stopping quickly to stare at myself in the mirror.

It's almost my birthday and yet, even though I'm practically seventeen, I still look like an eight-year-old boy. My hair is flat, curls limp around my shoulders, I stand at an average of 5'6'' tall, and I've been sporting my infamous flat-board chest since middle school. Let's just say -- thank God for push up bras. In the end, I could easily pass for fifteen. 

Bummer. 

Determined, I go back over to my dresser and start on my hair. I squirt conditioner into my palms, moisturize it into the strands, and take my time combing my hair from the ends to its roots until it's full, wavy, and somewhat girly looking. I use two silver butterfly clips to keep everything behind my ears. 

There's a bunch of makeup that I bought still sitting on my dresser in the packages, and I reach for it. But, then I realize that I'm staying in today, and decide to save experimenting for another time. I swipe on strawberry-colored gloss, curl my lashes and add mascara, and to finish it off, I tap a peachy blush onto my cheeks. It's a natural look, extremely natural actually, but it does the job. I'm satisfied. Grabbing my laptop, I head downstairs.

Only, Luke's door is open and I'm momentarily distracted by him standing in the middle of his floor, looking down at his phone, shirtless. He's wearing those jeans again, the ones that rest beautifully off his narrow hips, and I flush.

Gah! He's your step-brother, Annie. Get it together! Shaking my head, I peel my eyes away from the tall boy and hurry downstairs. Andrew and my mom are away, making final preparations with the caterer for the wedding and they won't be back until early tomorrow morning. So, with nothing to do or nowhere to go, I set up my computer on the living room floor and lay down in front of it.

Logging onto my Facebook, I do my usual trolling of the kids from my old school, laughing shamefully to myself and shaking my head at comments and statuses from them. I can't help myself, I contemplate searching Luke's page. Before I can overthink it, I search him up and not a minute later I'm scrolling down his page. My mind goes back to our encounter in the bathroom, and being half-naked and pressed up against him and for some reason, my cheeks heat.

Shivers run up my arms at the thought of his hand at the back of my thigh, and it takes every single fiber in me to not explode. Leaning forward, I rest my cheek against the soft cotton of the floor and let out a few deep breaths; forcing myself to relax.

"What are you doing?"

Ugh, speaking of the devil. Quickly lifting my head, I shake my hair in front of my face to hide my flushed cheeks and stare deer eyed at the boy standing in front of me, "What?"

Luke quirks an eyebrow and then walks around the couch. He falls down onto it and leans forward with his chin in his hands to rest his elbows on his knees. "I said, what are you doing?"

"Oh. Eh, using my computer." Nodding towards the screen, I sneakily click off of his page and then motion toward my Facebook page.

Blue eyes roll, "Talking to your little boyfriend, Ashley?"

Ha, no. More like stalking your Facebook page. I roll my eyes at his attempt to insult Ashton and turn my attention back to my laptop. 

"You're annoying," I huff.