Step Too Far Ch. 01

*All the characters in this story are 18 and older. This is a story that follows a pair of STEP-SIBLINGS. They are not biologically related. I'm sorry if this isn't what you are looking for. I know many readers prefer stories with characters who are actually related, but I believe a story with stepsiblings can be just as compelling and just as forbidden. To all those who read this, I hope you enjoy.

The final bell rang with a shrill echo that bounced off the tile floors and lockers, releasing a tide of bodies into the hall. Backpacks zipped, sneakers squeaked, and voices rose in a chaotic chorus of teenage relief, ready to enjoy the weekend. Violet Sinclair stayed in her seat. She didn't like the stampede. She usually waited for the room to empty-until there was only faint chatter and the distant squeal of a teacher's chair dragging across linoleum. Then, slowly, she would gather her things. Textbooks, notebooks, and the capped pen she always used and never let anyone borrow.

She slid them into her worn canvas bag and walked out with careful steps, keeping her eyes low. The noise was still there- the kind that buzzed in your skull and made it hard to think-but she'd learned to make herself small in it. Unnoticeable. Invisible. Other girls brushed past her with laughter trailing behind them like lingering notes of perfume. Boys joked way too loud and slammed lockers with a kind of careless confidence she couldn't fathom. Violet tightened the strap of her bag across her chest and kept moving.

She reached her locker and spun the dial with practiced fingers. The metal creaked open, and she placed her non-needed school supplies on the shelf before retrieving her clarinet case.

"Boo!"

Violet jumped, nearly dropping all her stuff. Bri giggled and leaned her shoulder against the locker next to hers. "You're so easy to scare. It's adorable."

"You're awful," Violet muttered. She recovered her balance and closed her locker a little harder than necessary. Bri didn't even flinch. She never did. With her high ponytail, winged eyeliner, and sparkly phone case clutched in one hand, Bri was sunshine bottled into a five-foot-three body. She was the kind of girl who actually liked high school. But she never treated Violet like a shadow. She was a genuine friend.

"Ugh," Bri whispered suddenly, eyes flicking down the hallway. "Speaking of awful... incoming golden couple."

Violet followed her gaze--and immediately wished she hadn't.

Noah was walking toward them, with Amanda attached to his hand like a designer handbag.

Noah was her brother. Not by blood, not even by history really. Their parents had married when they were both freshmen. Violet barely remembered the ceremony. She remembered the awkward photos, though--how tall he looked beside her in his suit, how much space had seemed to exist between them, even when they stood side by side. He was taller now. Taller and broader, his shoulders filling out his varsity jacket quite nicely. His wavy, dark brown hair was tousled just enough to look effortless. He was laughing at something Amanda said, his dimples flashing. Amanda leaned into his arm, her long legs swaying beneath a pleated skirt that was most definitely against the dress code. She saw Violet and smiled. Not a real smile, but a cocky one.

Violet stiffened, feeling herself shrink under Amanda's gaze.

"Oh my God," Bri said under her breath, watching the pair pass. "I know he's your stepbrother and everything, but he's hot."

Violet shot her a look. "Ew."

"Don't ew me. You're not blind."

"I live in the same house. Trust me, he's not that hot when he leaves his sweaty gym socks on the bathroom floor or leaves the damn toilet seat up."

Bri snorted. "Fair." They turned away, and Violet clutched her clarinet case tighter, resuming the quiet shuffle toward the band room. "You coming to the mall with me later?" Bri asked as she looped her arm through Violet's while they walked. "There's a bookstore in there now. You'd love it. Smells like old pages and espresso."

"Malls aren't really my thing," Violet said.

Bri raised a brow. "Amanda thing?"

Violet didn't answer. She remembered middle school- Amanda's lip gloss smirk, the sharp way she'd mocked Violet's glasses, the time she'd knocked her books out of her arms to laugh at the way she scrambled, and worse of all, the rumor Amanda had spread around the school, telling everyone she kissed her cousin during a family barbeque. Noah hadn't been around back then. But Amanda had always been there, like a thorn. One she couldn't pull out.

"Violet," Bri said softly. "You gotta get out more. You do school. You do band. You do yearbook. And then you vanish. When's the last time you had fun?"

Violet blinked. "Band is fun."

Bri rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I know," Violet whispered.

They reached the door to the band room, and the sounds of instruments hummed faintly behind the closed door. Bri turned and hugged her. "You're gonna be a lonely old librarian one day if you keep this up."

"That honestly sounds peaceful."

"No, that sounds tragic."

Violet smiled, but only a little. "Thanks for looking out for me."

"Someone has to." Then Bri winked, stepped away, and vanished out the door to head to cheerleading practice. Violet stood in front of the band room door for a long second before walking in, hugging her clarinet case like armor. The band room was its own kind of chaos--metallic clinks, mouthpiece buzzing, chairs screeching against the linoleum floor, and the scent of polished brass combined with freshly printed sheet music. Violet weaved through the rows of chairs and music stands, finding her usual spot in the middle-right of the clarinet section next to Simon.

He smiled the second he saw her, a little too eagerly. "Hey, Violet."

"Hi, Simon," Violet replied, offering a smile back. Simon was tall in a lanky, unfinished way, with soft brown eyes that always looked like they wanted to say more than they did. His hair was too long for his face, and his polo shirt never sat quite right on his shoulders, but his smile was genuine, and he had a way of making the awkward feel comfortable. They sat down together, pulling their clarinet cases open in tandem. Violet liked this part. The familiar clicks and snaps of assembling her instrument, the smooth feel of the reed, and the faint wood scent that lingered from its case. It gave her something to do with her hands. Something to focus on rather than her own awkwardness.

Simon turned slightly toward her, fitting his barrel joint into place. "So... homecoming parade coming up."

"Mm-hmm."

"Think we'll survive it this year without someone tripping over a bass drum?"

Violet's lips twitched. "Doubtful."

He grinned. "We live dangerously in the woodwinds."

"Uh-huh," Mrs. Lemieux said with a smirk. "Page one, folks. Let's go from the top." As the room was filled with warm-up chords and tentative scales, Violet let her fingers move over the keys without thinking. She didn't notice the way Simon watched her play sometimes when she wasn't looking. She never saw when Simon always smiled when she laughed, or how he always shifted slightly closer to her so their elbows would touch.

To Violet, it was just band.

To Simon, it was the best part of his day.

Time zipped by, and before Violet knew it, practice was wrapped up with a clatter of cases and a chorus of zipping bags. She slipped her clarinet back into its velvet-lined case, and around her, the room buzzed with plans for group dinners, jokes about the drummers, someone loudly asking if the trumpet section had even practiced.

Simon lingered beside her, leaning on his knee as he latched his own case shut. "You need a ride?" he asked casually, the same way he always did after rehearsal.

Violet smiled faintly, already fishing her phone from her hoodie pocket. "No, my dad is comi-"

She stopped mid-sentence; her eyes locked on her screen as she read a text sent to her while she was practicing.

Dad:

Hey sweetheart. Got pulled into a late meeting. I messaged Noah to drive you home. Sorry--text me when you're back safe.

Her stomach sank as she stared at the message for a second too long, thumb hovering over the keyboard. She could message Noah, tell him not to worry. Simon could take her. That wouldn't be weird... right?

Before she could decide, another message buzzed through.

Noah:

Practice ended early. I'm out front by the lot. Meet me at the car.

Violet sighed and slid her phone back into her pocket. "I've got a ride," she said, standing up and adjusting her bag.

Simon nodded, trying to hide his disappointment, hoping this time her answer would be different. "Cool, cool. Just checking." They walked down the hall together toward her locker, the building quieter now with most students long gone. Their footsteps echoed in the mostly empty corridor.

"So..." Simon ventured, "If you're not going to homecoming, what are your plans?"

Violet shrugged. "Probably just get some writing done."

Simon grinned. "Still working on the book?"

"Mhm."

"What's it about again? Still the girl with the violin and the... cursed ghost brother?"

Violet's lips curved. "She's a cellist now. But yeah. It's getting darker."

He bumped her arm with his lightly. "You always write dark stuff. I think you like torturing your characters."

"I think they deserve it."

"Remind me never to make you mad."

They reached her locker, and Violet swapped out her music folder, zipped up her hoodie, and closed the door with a soft clunk. The school doors loomed ahead, and the orange tint of a sinking sun spilled through the glass. As they stepped outside, the air was thick with the end-of-day warmth, despite it being October. The slight breeze felt nice against Violet's skin.

Noah's car sat near the edge of the lot. He was leaning against the driver's side door, tossing his keys in one hand. Amanda was beside him, half sitting on the hood in her short cheer skirt, phone in hand.

Simon hesitated as they approached, his brows pulling together slightly. "Wait, your dad's not picking you up?"

Violet shook her head. "Working late. He asked Noah to drive me."

Simon gave a small, unreadable nod. At the edge of the lot, he slowed. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Thanks for... walking with me."

He smiled again, soft and genuine. "Always." They hugged briefly, then he turned and headed for the row of cars, his backpack bouncing against his spine. Violet crossed the last stretch of pavement alone.

Amanda looked up as she approached and gave her a syrupy smile. "Aww, does baby Violet need her big brother to play chauffeur again?"

Violet said nothing, eyes on the gravel. "Amanda," Noah said flatly, not even looking at her. "Be nice." Amanda rolled her eyes as she slid off the hood to walk to the car's passenger side. Noah opened his door and pulled the front seat forward, clearing a path for Violet to climb in. Violet ducked inside, heart tapping like a metronome set just a little too fast. The car was quiet at first, filled only with the low hum of the engine and the soft thud of music pulsing from the radio. Violet sat in the back seat, her backpack tucked close to her hip, and her arms wrapped loosely around it like a shield.

Amanda was in the front, tan thighs pressed together, her manicured fingers scrolling through her social media app on her phone. Her perfume--sweet and sharp--curled through the air like smoke. She glanced up briefly at the rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing as she glanced at Violet. Violet noticed and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She never understood what she did to make Amanda hate her so much, to make her want to make Violet's life a living hell. Dating her stepbrother was just the nail in the coffin.

Noah drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the console. His window was cracked, letting in the warm wind. The late afternoon sun sliced through the windshield and painted his arm gold. Violet's eyes drifted to that arm. It was stupid. So stupid. But she looked.

His forearm was tan and dusted with a light trail of hair. The muscles shifted subtly each time he turned the wheel, and one long vein curved up from his wrist, pulsing faintly beneath the skin. His fingers were long and strong, the kind that made throwing a football look effortless. She remembered watching him once toss a baseball into the backyard net over and over for an hour, shirt off, sweat gleaming down his spine.

She shouldn't be thinking about that. She shouldn't be looking at him like this. She forced her eyes to the window, watching the fall-colored trees blur together, counting even-numbered mailboxes--anything to distract her.

"You hungry?" Amanda's voice cut through the silence.

Violet blinked as her head turned to the question. Noah glanced toward Amanda. "Yeah, kinda. You want something?"

"I'm starving," she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder like a reflex. "Let's stop at that burger place near your house."

"Violet," Noah said suddenly, glancing at her in the rearview mirror, "You hungry?" The question made her heart stutter. Her lips parted to respond.

"I don't want her to come," Amanda said before Violet could answer. The words hit the air like a slap.

Noah's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice going cool. "Amanda."

"What?" Amanda huffed, turning toward Violet with an exasperated sigh. "I mean... she can come, I guess. If she wants."

She said it like Violet was a puppy... or more so, dead weight.

Violet's fingers dug into the fabric of her backpack, her cheeks beginning to feel hot.

"It's okay," she said quickly. "You can just drop me off."

"You sure?" Noah asked, brow creasing as he looked at her in the mirror again.

"Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm just gonna work on some stuff tonight anyway."

Amanda didn't say anything else. Just turned her head back to her phone. When the car turned into the driveway to their house, Noah shifted into park, then opened his car door to step out, pulling his seat out to release Violet from this 20-minute drive that felt more like a punishment. Violet stepped out, almost losing her balance as her foot caught on the seat belt. She heard Amanda snicker as she straightened herself, a shaky breath escaping her lips. She felt tears begin to swell and rapidly blinked them away. She would not give Amanda something else to mock her for.

"You ok?" Noah asked, his hand grabbing her arm to help steady her. Violet pulled away from him and slid the strap of her bag on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said a little more harshly than she meant, but honestly... right now she didn't care. She turned and walked away, slamming the front door shut behind her. She stood there, listening for footsteps, voices, anything to warn her that she wasn't alone. She heard nothing except Noah's car pulling out of the driveway, then the faint hum of the engine heading back down the street. Then, only then, did she allow the tears to fall. She sobbed softly, her hands curling into fists by her waist.

The tears kept coming, hot and fast, slipping down her cheeks as she leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. She hated this. Amanda's smirk, how easily Noah always ignored it, and how she never had the courage to stand up for herself. But most of all... she hated how her body reacted to the way Noah's fingers had brushed her arm. It was barely a touch, more of a reflex - a meaningless gesture. But it lit something inside her that she didn't know what to do with. A spark she tried so hard to smother multiple times before.

She hated the warmth that bloomed in her chest the few times he actually looked at her, or his voice, when softened, could still make her actually feel noticed. Now, she mentally punched herself for how part of her had wanted to stay in that car just a little longer, to be in his space, even with Amanda sitting there.

Because the truth was ugly and simple... she wanted her stepbrother.

Even when she shouldn't, even when she knew better.

She wiped at her cheeks roughly, the sleeve of her hoodie soaking up the worst of it. Then she pushed herself off the door and slowly made her way up the stairs, her limbs heavy, her chest sore with everything she'd swallowed on that ride home. In her room, she didn't bother turning on the light. She dropped her bag by the door and crawled into bed fully dressed, kicking off her Converse and pulling her blanket up over her waist. She picked up her laptop from her nightstand, the light from the screen glowing soft and bluish against her face, flickering faintly as the cursor blinked at the end of a sentence she hadn't finished from her current chapter. She rested her chin on her hand, trying to summon the next line--but her thoughts had drifted again. Somewhere back to the car. To Amanda's voice. To Noah's fingers on the steering wheel.

Time passed, and a knock at the door pulled her back.

"Yeah?" she called softly, straightening up.

The door opened just enough to let her father's head peek in. His tie was loosened, his eyes tired, and his hair slightly rumpled like he'd run his hands through it a dozen times.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"Hi, Dad," she said warmly as she forced a small smile.

He stepped into the room and closed the door halfway behind him. "Sorry for the short notice today. I thought I'd be done by four, but something came up with a client."

"It's okay," Violet said, already knowing it wasn't really his fault. She lowered the screen of her laptop, placing it aside momentarily, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Noah gave me a ride home." Her heart felt like it skipped a beat after saying his name out loud.

Her dad nodded, easing down onto the edge of her bed. "Good. I figured it made sense since he was still there for football."

Violet hesitated. The room fell quiet, the sound of a car passing outside faint beneath the window. Her father frowned slightly, watching her. "You... don't like riding with him?"

She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, he added, "It's Amanda, isn't it?" Violet's stomach tightened, and her eyes lowered, staring at the muted pattern on her comforter. Her dad sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "I don't get it. She's always been awful to you. I don't know what Noah sees in that girl."

"Dad," Violet said quickly, "please drop it. He's allowed to date who he wants."

He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. But his voice softened. "I can talk to him, you know. Ask him not to have her in the car when he picks you up. You shouldn't have to sit there and--"

"It's fine," she interrupted, though it came out too fast. She cleared her throat. "If it's that big a deal, I'll just get a ride with Bri or Simon. Or I'll take the bus when I don't have band or yearbook."

Her father didn't look convinced, but he gave a small smile anyway. "Okay. I just want you to be comfortable."

"I know."

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "Have you eaten anything?" Violet blinked. For a moment, she was about to say yes. But then her stomach gave a faint, embarrassing twist to remind her that no, she hadn't. Before she could respond, she heard the front door open downstairs.

"Hey, Mom," Noah called from the hallway below. Violet tensed without meaning to. She looked at her dad. "I'm not hungry." He studied her for a beat, not really buying what she said, but also not wanting to push.

"All right," he said gently, standing. "If you change your mind, there's leftover pasta in the fridge."

"Thanks."

He paused in the doorway, then gave her a tired little smile and pulled the door shut behind him.

Violet let out a breath. She was alone once again with her partly closed laptop, the muffled sounds of voices downstairs, and a strange, unspoken heaviness she didn't know how to name. She placed her laptop back onto her lap, opening it fully, then pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose and began typing.

Chapter Fifteen - The Summoning Song

The room was dim, lit only by the violet glow of the candle she'd carved herself. Her hands trembled as she lifted the bow. Dust curled around her ankles like breath from a ghost. She drew the first note--C sharp, delicate as a thread--then followed it with the E, the G, the aching fall into B flat. The summoning tune.

It wasn't just music. It was memory. It was blood calling to blood.

As she played, the shadows along the walls began to ripple. "Come back to me," she whispered. Her fingers moved faster, weaving the notes into a net of sound, a cage of longing. "Just for a minute. Just long enough to see your face again."

The mirror on the far wall began to shimmer. The violin sobbed its final chord--and the candle flickered blue.

Then she heard his voice.

Violet reread the last line, then smiled faintly to herself. She didn't know why she liked this story so much. Maybe because the girl was braver than she was, or maybe because the ghost brother loved her unconditionally. It was just a bond, pure and strange, but strong. She stretched out on her stomach, typing slowly, letting the world slip away.

After a few hours, the house was asleep. Violet knew the patterns by now. A hush settled over the vents, there was no creak of the hallway floorboards, and a soft hum of her dad's snore gradually increased and echoed into the hallway. She closed her laptop for the last time, satisfied with her progress for the night. Her stomach finally won the quiet battle she'd been ignoring, and she changed into a tank top and black, checkered pajama pants before creeping downstairs barefoot, her arms folded tight as she padded into the kitchen. The light from the fridge made her squint as she pulled out the leftover pasta. She scooped it into a bowl, popped it in the microwave, and leaned on the counter while it rotated slowly, the low hum filling the silence.

The warm smell hit her, making her mouth water. She carried her bowl to the living room, curled up on the couch, and turned on her favorite comfort movie: Back to the Future. The familiar synth music started, and her body relaxed inch by inch. Fifteen minutes in, right around the part when Marty discovers Doc's time machine in the parking lot, she heard footsteps, slow and heavy, coming down the stairs. She tensed automatically, clutching her bowl tightly, and glanced over her shoulder.

Noah met her gaze as he reached the bottom step. He was shirtless, hair a little messy, wearing just flannel sleep pants that hung low on his hips. He didn't say anything as he crossed into the kitchen, opening cabinets and the fridge like he did every night. His back was to her the whole time. Violet tried to focus on the screen. She really did. But she stared, a forkful of pasta midair, as she was drawn to the shape of him in the kitchen, light from the fridge catching the smooth stretch of his back.

Muscle shifted beneath his skin as he reached into the cabinet, and something fluttered low in her stomach. She watched the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed, how his spine curved down into the waistband of his flannel pants, keeping her eyes on a certain place on his body way longer than they should've lingered. He looked strong and careless, at ease in his own skin in a way that felt almost unfair. She had seen that back plenty of times-pool days, morning runs, laundry days where he walked around like shirts were optional.

But tonight, for reasons she didn't want to name, she couldn't stop staring. She finally caught herself when Noah shut the door to the fridge, holding a granola bar and a Gatorade in his hand, he closed the cabinet door, then made his way back to the steps. When he stepped behind the couch, he stopped, and his head tilted slightly.

"You watching Back to the Future?" he asked, voice low and rough from sleep.

Violet hesitated. "Yeah." Noah turned fully to look at the TV. The faint blue light from the screen cast soft shadows across his chest, catching the lines on his well-defined abdomen.

"This is my favorite movie," he said.

She blinked at him, skeptical. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," he said, as if it was apparent. "The first one's a classic, obviously. But the third one? Way better than the second."

Violet narrowed her eyes. "The western one?"

He smirked. "The western one."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

He stood there a second longer, then nodded at the couch. "Mind if I join?"

She opened her mouth, then shut it. Why was he suddenly being... normal? "No," she said finally. "I guess not." He dropped onto the couch beside her, biting into the granola bar and leaning back against the cushion. He was closer than she expected, and his body gave off a subtle warmth that she tried not to notice. Violet kept her eyes on the screen, clutching her bowl a little tighter. She wasn't sure how she felt. Annoyed that he was here, surprised that he even liked her favorite movie, and confused that he wasn't teasing her or ignoring her or--worse--acting like Amanda. He was just... Noah. But different somehow.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was focused on the screen, the glow flickering across his sharp jaw, his mouth set in a thoughtful line. She turned back toward the movie, finally taking another bite of her food, and tried not to think about how it felt to have him next to her.

They kept watching in silence for a while--until Marty crashed the DeLorean into the barn and got mistaken for an alien. Violet couldn't help it; a small laugh escaped her lips, and to her surprise, Noah laughed too. A small one like hers, then again, louder, when the dad in the 1950s house looked horrified at Marty's hazmat suit. The kind of laugh that shook his shoulders a little. Violet glanced at him. It wasn't fake or polite. It was real.

She looked back at the screen, trying to ignore how strange it felt to be laughing at the same things with him. They had never done this. Never just hung out together. Anytime their parents forced them both to tag along for a "family outing", Noah was glued to his phone the entire time. Whenever it was just the two of them alone at home, Noah would stay in his room all day. This was new... and it was nice.

The next scene rolled into the diner moment where Marty meets his dad as a teenager, and suddenly Noah muttered under his breath along with the movie. "Hey McFly. I thought I told you never to come in here."

Violet gave him a sideways look. "Are you quoting it?"

He grinned, unfazed. "Obviously."

"You're one of those people?"

"Proudly. Don't pretend you don't know every line too."

She tried not to smile but quickly failed. "You're annoying."

"I don't care," he replied with sarcasm as he took a sip of Gatorade.

She rolled her eyes but didn't argue. A few minutes passed, and they fell into a comfortable rhythm--laughing, watching, Noah murmuring the best lines before they landed, and Violet secretly finding it both irritating and... adorable. Then his phone buzzed. The screen lit up in his lap. He didn't check it right away, but Violet saw it. Amanda's name glowing in bright black letters.

She stiffened while Noah picked up his phone, typed something quickly, then put it face down on the couch. Violet kept her eyes on the movie, but her posture had gone still, and Noah noticed. "I talked to her," he said quietly. She glanced at him, confused. "Amanda," he added. "Earlier. About you."

Violet blinked, then looked away. "You didn't have to."

"No. I did," he said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "What she said in the car... it wasn't cool. It's not the first time either, and I've let it slide... more than I should have."

Violet didn't respond right away. She stared at the screen, though she couldn't remember what part they were on. "She's always been like that," she said finally. "Since middle school."

"I know," Noah said. "I've heard of the things she did and the rumor she spread. Still... I should've said something before. I told her to cut it out. Seriously." There was a beat of silence, then he added, "If you ever want me to tell her to stop riding with me when I give you a ride, just say the word."

Violet looked down at her now-empty bowl. Her fingers curled slightly around the ceramic edge. "I'm used to it," she said softly. "But... thanks." Noah didn't push. He just leaned back, one hand behind his head, stretching slightly. Violet's eyes flicked to the line of his ribs and the way his stomach tightened with the movement. She cleared her throat and turned the volume up just slightly. They watched the next few minutes in silence, but the air felt different now.

Softer.

As the credits rolled and the familiar Back to the Future theme swelled, Violet exhaled slowly, stretching her legs out across the couch. The empty bowl rested in her lap, forgotten for a while as the screen faded to black. Noah shifted beside her, sitting up a little. "You doing anything tomorrow?"

She turned her head to look at him. "No."

He nodded. "You remember our parents are heading to the lake house tomorrow morning, right?"

Violet blinked. "Right." They'd mentioned it earlier in the week. Something about closing things up for the season, checking on repairs. They'd be gone until late Sunday.

Noah smiled, leaning back against the couch arm. "We could do a full movie night. Watch the other two. Make it a whole thing."

She raised an eyebrow. "A whole thing?"

"I'll even sneak a bottle of wine from the bar in the basement," he added with a smirk. "Split it between us. Just don't rat me out."

Violet thought hard. Wine. Just the two of them. A full night together. It felt... dangerous. So why did she feel a throb between her thighs at the thought of them being alone? "Okay," she said quietly. "Sure." His smile deepened, a small flicker of something she couldn't quite name in his eyes. He stood, stretching his arms over his head. Noah picked up his phone from the couch, glanced at the screen, then looked back at her. "You heading to bed?"

"In a minute. Gonna rinse my bowl."

He gave a little nod. "'Night, Vi."

She looked up at him, surprised by the way he said it--soft and casual, like he'd been saying it every night for years. "Goodnight," she replied, almost whispering. He padded upstairs, footsteps fading until the hallway creaked faintly above her. Violet stood, cradling her bowl, and made her way to the sink. The water turned warm over her fingers as she rinsed it, the sound of it steady. But her thoughts weren't. They wandered, circling around what tomorrow night would feel like. Just the two of them, on the couch, watching movies. Wine between them. His voice low beside her. His laugh. That way he said her name. She shook her head as she turned off the water and dried the bowl with a towel, but the thoughts stayed with her. She wasn't sure what tomorrow night would mean. But part of her already knew she wouldn't sleep much until it came.

As Violet lay in bed, her room cloaked in soft darkness, the only light a faint silver wash from the moon spilling through the blinds. Her hoodie lay in a small heap on the floor. Her phone buzzed once with a group text from Bri, but she ignored it, turning onto her side beneath the covers and pulling them tight to her chest. She should've been tired, but her thoughts wouldn't stop. She thought about the way Noah had looked in the glow of the TV. The way he'd said her name without teasing. The way he'd sat next to her like it was no big deal. Like they did this every weekend. Like she wasn't invisible to him anymore.

Her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her sheets. He had asked her to hang out. Just the two of them. And... he'd stood up for her. He had actually said something to Amanda. Violet frowned, staring at the shadow of her bookshelf across the room. That was the part she couldn't stop coming back to. Not just the movie or the wine or even the stretch of his body under the living room light. It was the fact that he saw it. He saw how Amanda treated her, and he didn't ignore it. He cared enough to tell her to stop.

Noah had always existed in this distant, separate part of her world--popular, loud, charming without even trying, and entirely unreachable to her. He had never really looked at her. Not like that. Not with kindness. But tonight felt different. It scared her a little. How easily she was letting him in. How much she wanted to believe that he meant it. That it wasn't just a fluke. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, the shadows shifting slowly from the moonlight peaking in between the blinds, and her thoughts finally pausing long enough for her to drift off to sleep.

When Saturday morning arrived, the sun bled through, painting long lines across her comforter. She blinked into the light, groaning softly as she rolled over and pulled the covers over her head. It was too bright and much too early. Except--it wasn't early. She reached blindly for her phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen.

11:23 a. m.

Her eyes widened. "Crap." She sat up slowly, her hair sticking up on one side, and a strap of her tank top loose from her shoulder. She'd never meant to sleep that late, but something about last night had left her brain foggy, spinning even in her dreams. She rubbed her eyes, then unlocked her phone to find three unread messages.

Bri - 9:12 a. m.

You are NOT going to believe the guy I saw at the mall yesterday. Absolute god. I swear he smiled at me. Call me later or I will show up at your house with coffee and no boundaries.

Dad - 9:47 a. m.

Morning, sweetheart. Heading out with Noah's mom to the lake house now. Should be back tomorrow afternoon. Be good. P. S. I Venmo'd Noah money for pizza in case you guys get hungry tonight.

Noah - 10:58 a. m.

Hey, went over to Tyler's for a bit. I'll be back around 5. Movie night still on :)

Violet stared at the last message for a second longer than the others. Movie night still on. There it was again. That flutter in her chest she didn't want to admit to. He'd remembered. He was making sure she knew it mattered. He even added a smiley face. Did he always use smiley faces?

She set the phone down on her lap and stared at her bedroom wall. The house would be empty. Just her and Noah. Pizza. Movies. Wine. The kind of thing that, with anyone else, would feel like a casual night in. Violet curled into the corner of her bed, blankets bunched around her legs, and tapped the call button next to Bri's name.

It only rang twice. "Took you long enough, sleeping beauty," Bri said, her voice bright and full of life. "Did you just wake up? I texted you hours ago."

"Yeah, I slept in," Violet murmured. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I'm just impatient and nosy."

Violet smiled, tucking the phone under her chin. "So, this guy you saw at the mall..."

"Oh my God, Violet." Bri's voice immediately shifted into dramatic overdrive. "He was tall. Tall-tall. Dark hair, lip ring, messy sweatshirt like he didn't even try, but still looked hot. And he smelled like some kind of spicy body wash situation, which--yes please."

Violet laughed softly. "Did you talk to him?"

"Kind of. He asked what I was drinking. I panicked and told him it was green and ran away."

"That sounds like you."

"It was tragically on-brand, I know. But it made my whole afternoon." Bri sighed dreamily. "Anyway, enough about my near-love affair. What are you up to today?"

Violet hesitated for a beat. "Movie night."

"Ooh, with who?"

"Noah."

A pause. But not a heavy one. Just curious. "Really? That's fun."

Violet blinked. "That's it?"

"What do you mean? He's your stepbrother. You live together. You guys never hang out?"

"Not really. Barely talk."

"Huh. Well, maybe it's good that you're hanging out, then."

Violet twisted the blanket between her fingers. "He said he wanted to finish the Back to the Future trilogy. Said he'd sneak some wine."

"Nice. Free wine and classic movies. Enjoy it."

"You're not going to make it weird?"

"Why would I make it weird? He's your stepbrother, not some guy from Tinder. You two probably need to hang out more anyway. Might make things less awkward."

Violet relaxed slightly. "Yeah. I guess."

"Send me a pic of your snacks later. And maybe tell him to stop dating Amanda while you're at it."

Violet laughed. "I'm not getting involved in that."

"You're too pure. I'll handle the drama. Enjoy your movie night, babe. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Okay. Talk later."

They hung up, and Violet set her phone down beside her pillow. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, the corners of her mouth curled up. Maybe Bri was right. Perhaps it was just a movie night. Violet finally pushed the covers off and got out of bed. The house was silent--no parents clattering dishes in the kitchen, no hum of a TV from the downstairs living room--just the whisper of wind through the trees outside.

She padded down to the kitchen and made herself a bowl of cereal, half-focused as she ate at the counter. Her spoon clinked gently against the side of the bowl as she scrolled through her phone with her free hand, checking for any new messages. Nothing-not like she was waiting for anything. But she still found herself checking the time every few minutes.

12:02.

Too early to be thinking about tonight. She rinsed her bowl, wiped down the counter, and headed back upstairs. She grabbed her laptop and curled up in her desk chair, pulling her knees up and tucking one foot under the other as she stared at the half-finished sentence from the night before.

> The candlelight flickered blue, casting shadows across the mirror. She gripped the bow tighter and played the first aching note--

She picked up the thread again, her fingers flying over the keyboard. The girl was drawing her brother out from the spirit world again, but this time... something was different. The shadows were heavier. The air was colder. She could feel someone else watching. Violet lost herself in the rhythm for a while, but even as she wrote--heart in the story, fingers tapping with steady purpose--her eyes still drifted to her phone every so often, the glowing screen tempting her.

12:47.

Then 1:19.

Then 2:04.

Still nothing new from Noah.

She told herself she didn't care. Told herself she was being ridiculous. That it was just movies. Just pizza. Just her stepbrother being... decent for once.

She closed her laptop and let out a long breath, stretching her arms over her head.

2:56.

She had time. Violet stood in front of her closet; arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to protect herself from her own indecision.

Black.

Black.

More black.

She sighed, thumbing through the endless sea of dark sweatshirts, plain tees, and neutral leggings. Why did everything she owned look like she was trying to disappear? Her fingers hesitated on a faded hoodie before sliding past it. Perhaps she should consider buying more colorful clothes. Something bright. Something... Amanda would wear. She cringed at the thought. No. Not Amanda. But... Amanda wore clothes that made people look. Made Noah look.

Violet bit the inside of her cheek, mentally kicking herself. Why did she care what she wore for a damn movie night? He's your stepbrother, she reminded herself. It's just a movie night. It doesn't mean anything. Even so, when she reached for her leggings and oversized Creed T-shirt, she paused--just long enough to wonder if it was too shapeless. Too boring. Too her. Still, she grabbed it and headed to the bathroom, glancing at the time on her phone as she closed the door behind her.

3:21 p. m.

The water in the shower ran hot and steady, steam rising around her as she stepped beneath the spray. It hit her skin in warm waves, cascading down her back, her shoulders, her chest. She tilted her head back and let it run over her face, trying to clear her thoughts. She pressed her hands against the tiled wall, her heart beating just a little too fast for her liking.

He's just being nice, she thought to herself. And yet, the butterflies in her stomach didn't listen.

Not when she turned off the water. Not when she wrapped the towel around her. Not even when she got dressed in her usual, forgettable clothes. She tugged the oversized shirt over her head, smoothing it down with shaking fingers. It hung low over her leggings--casual, comfortable, nothing special. Still, it felt like a choice. She stood in front of her mirror for a few seconds, assessing her reflection. Then, without thinking too hard about it, she walked back to her room and reached for her favorite body spray from the dresser--soft vanilla and something floral. She misted it lightly over her neck, her wrists, the front of her shirt.

Not too much. Just enough. She didn't know why she cared. She told herself it was just about feeling put together. Normal. But deep down, she wanted him to notice. She rechecked her phone.

4:04 p. m.

Her stomach twisted. It was too early to be nervous, but she was. The longer the silence stretched, the more her brain spiraled. What if he changed his mind? What if he suddenly thought it was weird, thought she was weird, and thought he wouldn't be caught dead actually hanging out with her for fun?

She sat on the edge of her bed and opened her messages, her thumbs hovering above the keyboard. She wasn't going to say anything, not really. Just something casual. Just to test the waters. Just to know he was still planning on showing up.

She typed:

Violet:

Hey. So what are we doing for dinner since we're fending for ourselves tonight?

She hit send before she could overthink it, then stared at the screen. The message went through.

No dots. No reply.

She tossed her phone face-down on the bed and stood up, pacing once across the room, then back. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, nervously bit at her nails, opened her laptop, then closed it again.

She checked the time.

4:18.

Still nothing. Her throat felt tight. She bit her bottom lip, hard. Of course he's not coming, she thought. Why would he? This was stupid. She should've known better.

Time dragged.

4:31.

4:42.

4:51.

She stared at her reflection again, suddenly hating the way her shirt swallowed her, how plain she looked, how stupid it was to think even for a second that he might see her differently. She sat back down on the bed and pulled her knees to her chest, phone back in her hand now, gripped too tightly.

4:56.

No message. No Noah. You knew better, Violet thought bitterly as she sat frozen on the edge of her bed, staring at her phone like it had betrayed her. She had no idea what she'd been expecting. Noah and she were nothing alike. Why would one stupid movie they both happen to like make him want to see her as nothing more than a geek? It was foolish--all of it.

She stood and made her way toward the stairs, feeling hollow and foolish. The house was still quiet when she gripped the railing and started down, then she heard the front door open. She stopped mid-step as Noah walked in, a burst of chilly outside air following him. He kicked the door shut behind him, dropping his keys and wallet with a loud clunk onto the side table by the door. "Sorry I didn't text back," he said immediately, sounding a little out of breath and annoyed.

Violet's eyebrows rose, startled. "It's fine." He didn't look at her right away. Just ran a hand through his hair and exhaled hard, like something had gone wrong and he was still working through it.

"My mom Venmo'd me money for pizza," he said, finally glancing up at her. "Any toppings you want?"

She shook her head. "Whatever you get is fine."

"Cool." He nodded. His tone was still sharp, clipped at the edges. "I'm gonna hop in the shower real quick, then we can start the movie." Before she could respond, he was already heading up the stairs past her, his footsteps heavy and fast. She turned slightly, watching him disappear into the hallway above and hearing the bathroom door close with a soft click. Violet stood there on the stairs, her hand still on the railing. This wasn't what she thought it would be. Not even close.

She curled up on the couch and picked up the remote to search for the trilogy that she bought on her YouTube account. There they were--Back to the Future I, II, III--lined up in numerical order. She clicked on the second one, but didn't press play. She set the remote down, beginning to feel butterflies in her stomach, and her heart fluttered with anxiety. Is he annoyed with me? Did he not want to come? Did I pull him away from something else? Someone else?

The thoughts looped in her head like a quiet storm, making her tap her foot. All she could do was wait. Minutes passed, and the sound of footsteps on the stairs made her freeze. Noah appeared a moment later, walking into the room with damp hair, wearing gray sweats and a black hoodie. He looked clean and fresh, his hair still dripping slightly at the ends. His hoodie clung to his frame in that soft, worn way certain clothes do on guys that made them somehow more... touchable.

Violet's eyes lingered on him before she could stop herself. The way his hair curled slightly behind his ears. The dampness glistening at the base of his throat. She could practically smell the faint trace of body wash and shampoo from where she sat. Her fingers itched, just a little, with the absurd desire to run through that wet hair, see how it felt between her hands.

He said something, but she didn't hear a word. Her mind was too full of him. Of the scent, the heat, the quiet pull in her stomach. "Violet," he said again, more directly.

She blinked. "Huh?"

He gave her a look, a touch confused. "I said I already ordered the pizza before I got in the shower. Should be here soon."

"Oh. Okay." Her cheeks flushed. She looked away. Was I staring? Did he see me staring? Great. Now he probably thinks I'm even weirder than he already did.

Noah didn't comment. He turned and headed back toward the kitchen. "Go ahead and start the movie," he called over his shoulder. She picked up the remote and pressed play. The opening titles for Back to the Future II rolled, that familiar theme swelling in the background. But Violet barely heard it. Her face was still warm, and a minute later, Noah returned, carrying an unopened bottle of wine in one hand and a corkscrew in the other. He sat down beside her, close but not touching, and began to uncork the bottle. His jaw tightened a little as he twisted the metal in, and the faint pop of the cork broke the silence.

He took a few sips straight from the bottle, then wordlessly handed it to her. Violet hesitated. She'd never had wine before. Never had any alcohol. But she didn't want to seem childish. Not tonight. She took the bottle with both hands and brought it to her lips and sipped. It was sharp and dry, nothing like she expected. Her lips twinged at the taste, and she lowered the bottle. They watched in silence for a moment before she spoke, her voice low, unsure.

"... We don't have to do movie night if you don't want."

Noah looked over at her, and something in his expression shifted--less guarded now, less sharp. The annoyance in his brow eased. "I do want to."

Violet swallowed. "You just seemed... I don't know. Annoyed."

Noah let out a breath, leaning back onto the couch. "Amanda and I got into a fight right before I got home."

"Oh," Violet said softly. "About what?"

He shook his head, looking away. "Nothing important." The way he said it made her feel like asking more would be overstepping. He looked back at the screen, reaching out for the bottle again. Violet held it out to him automatically, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. They sat in silence again as the movie played on, her heart still racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the movie playing in front of them. By the time Marty and Doc were barreling through the future in flying cars and self-lacing sneakers, Violet felt the nervous energy in her body start to fade. She was warm, a little fuzzy at the edges. The tipsiness settled over her gently, just enough to soften her shoulders, to make her laugh louder than she usually would.

The pizza arrived halfway through the movie, and they paused to grab paper plates, collapsing back onto the couch with slices balanced in their laps. Violet chewed a bite, then pointed at the screen. "Okay, but Jennifer just... passes out and gets abandoned for half the movie. What was the point of even bringing her?"

Noah chuckled. "Right? She spends the whole time unconscious in an alley. Peak writing." They both laughed, full and real this time. The couch felt smaller than usual. Or maybe she just wasn't used to sitting this close to someone and not feeling the need to shrink herself. As the movie wound down, Noah leaned toward her. "Alright, real question: if you had to pick one, who's better--Doc or Biff?"

"Better?" Violet looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Doc is a literal genius. Biff is-what-an oaf with a sports almanac?"

Noah shrugged. "I don't know. Biff's kind of iconic. In a 'bad decisions' kind of way."

"You're insane." He just responded with a grin.

The credits rolled, and Violet stood up to stretch, swaying just slightly before catching her balance. "Okay. Time for the infamous part three." She scrolled through her purchases and clicked on the third movie, and the opening title played just as Noah returned from tossing the empty pizza box onto the kitchen counter. As he dropped onto the couch beside her again, she turned to him with a squint. "I still don't get it," she said. "How is this your favorite? It's cowboys and steam trains, and Marty literally gets called 'Clint Eastwood.' It's ridiculous."

"Exactly," Noah said, leaning back into the cushions. "It's so ridiculous it loops back around to genius."

"No," she said firmly. "That's not how it works."

"It is exactly how it works."

"Noah--"

"No, no, no," he said, sitting up straighter, "you don't appreciate the brilliance. The third one's got stakes, emotion, that final train scene--"

"It has a flying time train."

He raised his hands. "Yes! It's fucking cool!" Violet groaned and threw a pillow at him. Noah caught it and threw it back. "Don't disrespect Doc Brown's train."

"Oh my God--"

"Say it's the best one."

"Never."

"Say it."

She shook her head, laughing. "You're so--" He lunged forward suddenly and tickled her side. "--annoying!" she shrieked, twisting away with a laugh, grabbing his arm and pushing at his chest. "Stop!"

"Say it's the best one!" he laughed, grabbing both her wrists now to stop her from shoving him. They wrestled for a second--her laughing, him grinning, their limbs tangled in mock struggle. She ended up half pinned between him and the back of the couch, breathless and warm, wine buzzing faintly in her veins.

"Say it," he said again, smiling down at her. And then he kissed her. It was sudden, but not harsh or sloppy. His lips pressed to hers, softly at first, tentatively, like he didn't fully know if he should.

She froze, just for a second, and then her eyes closed. Her lips parted just slightly, and everything else--the movie, the room, the world--fell quiet. Her heart wouldn't stop racing. Soon, she found herself melting into the kiss, her breath catching as her body gave in to the softness of it. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it echoed through her ribs. She felt his hand move slowly, carefully, coming up to cup her cheek. Her skin tingled beneath his touch.

His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw, and something deep inside her twisted--hot and dizzy and aching for more. For a moment, she forgot to think. She just felt. And then it hit her.

Noah. Her stepbrother. Her mind snapped back into place like a jolt of cold water, and her eyes flew open. "Noah--" she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper. He pulled back immediately, like she'd burned him. She pushed lightly at his chest, her breath coming quick now, panic laced with embarrassment.

Noah's eyes were wide. "Shit. I--Violet, I'm sorry." He moved off her fast, shifting to the far end of the couch, running a hand through his hair, suddenly looking as unsure as she felt. Violet sat up slowly, her cheeks burning, her entire body buzzing and confused. "I-I don't know why I did that," he said, avoiding her gaze. "I wasn't trying to-- I mean, I didn't plan to--"

"It's okay," she said too quickly, voice high and tight. "I just--"

They both sat in stunned silence for a moment, the movie still playing behind them as if nothing had happened. But everything had. The air between them was different now. Too quiet. Too charged. Neither of them knew what to say next. Violet sat frozen, breath shallow, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She couldn't even look at him. Her skin still buzzed with the memory of his hands--his fingers brushing her jaw, his palm warm against her cheek, the pressure of his chest against hers, the softness of his lips, parting hers just enough to make her melt.

His scent still lingered--clean, sharp, a little like his shampoo and something deeper she couldn't name. It made her stomach flip. And his hair. It had fallen forward slightly as he kissed her, the soft strands brushing her forehead and tickling her cheek. She didn't mean to touch it, but she had, just for a second. And it had been softer than she expected. But the thing that haunted her most was the weight of his body. The sudden heat. The way something had pressed against her thigh--

No. No, no, no--

Her face burned. What was happening to her? Why had she wanted more? Why did she still want more?

"I'm sorry," Noah said again, quieter now, voice low and tense. "I shouldn't have--"

"I liked it." The words slipped out of her mouth before she even realized she was saying them. Noah looked at her sharply, eyes widening. Violet blinked as panic flooded her chest. "Wait. I didn't mean--I mean, I did, but not like--" She stammered, her mouth moving faster than her brain. "It was a mistake. We weren't-- I didn't expect--"

Noah interrupted gently, his voice steady but soft. "I wanted to." She stopped talking. He looked at her fully now, the annoyance from earlier completely gone, replaced with something quieter. Serious. Searching. "I didn't plan it," he said. "But I'm not sorry I did it."

Violet didn't know what to say. The room felt heavy with everything unsaid. With everything felt.

"I--" she started, but no words followed. Her thoughts were moving in too many directions.

She looked at Noah. Really looked at him. He wasn't smirking. He wasn't making fun. He wasn't even looking away, like he regretted it. He looked... honest.

Her heart pounded harder. "You wanted to?" she asked, her voice a whisper, barely steady.

Noah nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"But why?" she asked before she could stop herself. "I mean... we don't talk. Not really. Not like that. And I'm just--" She paused, her voice shrinking. "Me."

He gave a breath of a laugh. Not mocking, but soft. Surprised, even. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Violet shrugged her shoulders. "Isn't it?"

"No," he said, leaning forward a little. "It's not."

She folded her hands in her lap, nervous energy returning as her thumbs picked at one another. Her voice was small when she spoke. "I don't understand any of this."

"I don't either," Noah said honestly. "But I know I wanted to kiss you." Violet looked up again, searching his face for some trace of irony, cruelty. Some sign that this was a joke or a game or a passing moment of boredom. But there was none. His eyes were calm. Focused. Still a little unsure--but not running.

"I've never... kissed anyone," she admitted before she could second-guess herself. The wine made her bold, but not brave. She looked away quickly, cheeks burning. "Not like that."

Noah's voice was gentle. "I didn't know."

"I know it's stupid," she added quickly, her right thumb now digging at a piece of skin on her left.

"No, it's not," he said.

The movie played on, mostly ignored, as it flashed across the screen, its dialogue blurred into background noise. The wine sat half-finished on the floor, and neither of them moved. Violet kept her hands folded, her thumbs still digging. Her heart hadn't calmed, her cheeks still burned, and her lips still felt faintly electric from the kiss. Beside her, Noah leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight like he was thinking hard but didn't know what to say. Like he was holding himself back.

Finally, he spoke. "If you want to stop movie night," he said quietly, "we can."

The words twisted something sharp in her. "No," she said, instantly, too fast.

Noah turned his head slowly to look at her. She swallowed. Her voice was softer now, shaking. "I don't... I don't want it to stop." He didn't move right away. He studied her face, his eyes searching hers--like he was looking for doubt, for fear, for the part of her that would take it all back. She felt her pulse throb in her throat as she saw him lean toward her again, slowly this time, like he was giving her space to say no, to pull away.

Violet's breath shuddered as she inhaled. "No," she whispered, "we can't. We shouldn't. This isn't..." But she didn't move. She didn't pull away. She let Noah kiss her again. This time, it wasn't uncertain. It was full, warm, real--his lips parting hers gently, his hand resting against her thigh. She kissed him back. Even though they shouldn't. Even though nothing about this made sense. Even though every part of her said this is wrong--another part of her, a louder part, whispered to her don't you dare tell him to stop.

The kiss deepened as Noah's hand slid from her thigh, tracing up to her waist, fingers curling gently around her side, touching her like she might break, like he didn't quite believe she was letting him. Violet shivered, the heat of his palm bleeding through her shirt, the wine still humming quietly in her bloodstream. His grip tightened just slightly, enough to make her gasp softly. Her hands hovered for a moment, nervous, unsure, before she finally reached for him. Her fingers pressed against his chest, feeling the firmness beneath the soft cotton of his hoodie. She swallowed hard, her heart racing as she dared to explore further, brushing along the slope of his shoulder, the curve of his bicep.

The tension in him was real. All strength, all heat, and her body reacted instinctively. Noah broke the kiss just long enough to pull her closer. His hands found her hips as he sat up, pulling her with him to place her on his lap. She straddled him now, the couch forgotten, the movie barely a flicker in her peripheral vision. His lips met hers again, hungrier this time. Not rushed, but deeper. Needing.

She moaned as his hands gripped her tightly, his fingers digging into her thighs. The pressure beneath her shifted, and she felt something growing, solid, and unmistakable. Her body tensed in response, her pulse roaring in her ears. He was hard. And she was sitting right on top of it. Her breath caught as heat bloomed through her core. She didn't know what to do, what to say, only that her body was answering before her mind could catch up.

Noah's mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, grazing her skin with slow reverence, and she closed her eyes, trying not to tremble, and just losing herself in the feeling. Noah's lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm and ragged, his body tense with restraint. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, voice low and serious. He was giving her the chance to pull away. Violet's heart pounded so loudly she could hear it in her ears. Her lips parted, trembling. She could still say yes. She could end it right here.

But instead, she whispered, "No." And then she kissed him. Soft at first--uncertain-- her innocence truly showing, but as soon as their mouths met, something in her loosened. Noah groaned against her lips and deepened the kiss, his hand sliding to her waist, fingers pressing in possessively. With one smooth motion, he lifted her with him as he stood, and Violet gasped, clutching at his shoulders. His strength--effortless, controlled--sent a strange, thrilling shiver down her spine. She felt so light and claimed.

He laid her back on the couch, gently, reverently, as if she were breakable. His eyes searched hers once more before he kissed her again, slower this time. His lips trailed down from her jaw to her throat. Each kiss made her shiver. She closed her eyes, her breath catching as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, lifting it little by little. Cool air touched her bare stomach, and then his mouth was there, warm and open, kissing across her skin like it was something sacred. She whimpered and tangled her fingers in his hair. Her thoughts were a flurry, impossible to grasp. Gone was her guilt, her doubt, her anxiety. Every brush of his lips drew her deeper into something she didn't know what to name.

When she dared to open her eyes, he was looking at her--those sharp green eyes catching hers from beneath the fall of his hair. The look in them made her breath stop. She bit her lip, the weight of his gaze pinning her in place. His hands slid lower to the waistband of her leggings. He paused again. "Tell me if you change your mind," he murmured.

Violet nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her heart beat faster as he began to tug the fabric down, inch by inch. She felt exposed in ways she never had before as her leggings slipped past her thighs, then her legs, then finally off her completely. Then her panties followed, peeling down slowly. Her whole body flushed, nerves sparking like static beneath her skin. She wanted to hide and be seen at the same time.

When he finally looked down between her legs, his breath came out rough. His hands rested on her thighs, spreading them slowly. "You're soaked, Vi," he said softly. "God..." Her cheeks burned, but a strange ache built in her chest. Is it wrong to want him like this? To want more?

His head dipped, and his mouth pressed to the soft skin just above her folds. Violet's back arched involuntarily. The sensation was already too much--warm and wet and impossibly intimate. A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it, and her fingers clutched at the cushion behind her head. Then--his tongue. Just the lightest flick at first, exploratory, followed by a slow, deliberate stroke. Her breath caught. Oh God. A tremble rolled through her legs, and her thighs instinctively tried to close, but his hands were there, holding her openly, gently but firmly.

"Noah..." she breathed, not even sure what she was asking.

He groaned softly. "Fuck, you taste so good."

The words made her dizzy with heat. Her whole body felt like it was unraveling, but a twinge of guilt slipped past the pleasure. It feels too good. It's not supposed to feel this good... but when his tongue moved again, slower, deeper, teasing circles and soft suckling kisses, her thoughts shattered once more. Her hips lifted into his mouth before she could stop them, and her hands reached for him, needing something to hold onto as gradual waves overtook her core.

Every flick of his tongue was a sin, and she allowed herself to be ruined. Her breathing turned shallow and broken, a sob escaping. Noah pulled back just slightly, his lips glistening, and he looked up at her again. "You okay?" he asked, his voice rough. She nodded as she felt tears forming from the intensity of it all. Her heart, her body, and her mind were no longer in agreement. She didn't know what she was anymore.

Noah's mouth found her again, slower this time--almost teasing in its tenderness. His tongue moved in languid strokes, savoring her, tasting her like she was something delicate and forbidden. Violet's fingers found his hair again, gripping tight enough to make Noah wince, but not dare tell her to stop. She couldn't breathe properly. Every inhale was a shudder. Every exhale, a whispered moan. His hands never left her thighs. They were warm and grounding, keeping her legs open and exposed. Yet somehow, she didn't feel used--she felt seen. Cherished. Even as he worshipped the most intimate part of her with his mouth, she felt like the center of his world.

Noah's tongue--oh God. It moved in slow, purposeful circles, then dipped deeper, licking through her folds, tracing the shape of her. Every stroke sent another pulse of heat spiraling through her belly, curling low and hot between her hips. Her back arched, thighs trembling on either side of his head. She could feel the wetness building, slick and shameful and undeniable.

Her breath came faster now, uneven. His mouth moved lower, then back up--kissing, sucking gently on that one place that made her cry out. Her hips lifted involuntarily, grinding into his mouth. The pleasure was starting to rise, slowly but intensely. "Noah..." she whimpered, her voice thin and breathless. He moaned in response, pushing her thighs farther apart, as far as he could, and positioned himself better between them. He flattened his tongue against her, licking slow and deep, over and over, while his thumb found the sensitive nub at the top of her folds, rubbing it in soft, rhythmic circles.

She clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds spilling from her throat, afraid that somehow, someone might hear them. A high, keening moan slipped free as the pleasure tore through her like a storm. Her whole body tensed--tight, trembling--as if resisting the inevitable. But Noah didn't stop. He kept working her with patient, relentless care, coaxing her toward something she had only reached a few times with her own fingers.

Her climax hit hard, raw and unrestrained. Her body bucked beneath him, her thighs trembling violently, and her breath catching in her throat as wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through her. It was too much, too fast, too good. A sob broke from her lips as she came, her fingers keeping their grip on his hair, pulling him closer. Her eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping down her temples as her orgasm tore through her like fire.

She didn't even recognize the sounds she made--half-sobs, half-whimpers--lost in the moment, in him. When the pleasure finally began to fade, she went limp on the cushions, her body trembling fiercely. Her heart thundered against her ribs, and she felt wrung out, shaken, and suddenly exposed. She jumped as she felt Noah kiss the inside of her thigh, slow and tender. He crawled up beside her and lay down, just holding her. Violet stared up at the ceiling, her body still humming. The guilt crept back in slowly, wrapping around her like a blanket she didn't know if she wanted to shed or cling to.

"You okay?" She heard him ask again. She nodded, even as tears pricked her eyes again. The room was quiet now. The movie had ended, and nothing else was spoken between them. His hand shifted slightly, brushing over her ribs. Then he tilted his head, pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, and slowly leaned in again, his lips barely brushing hers. Violet jumped as she felt the buzz of a cell phone under her leg.

Noah sighed and sat up. "That's mine," he said as he pulled his phone out from under her leg and glanced at the screen. Violet saw him freeze, then looked and saw it too.

Amanda - Calling...

Her stomach dropped. The warmth that had filled her chest only seconds ago turned to ice. She sat up quickly, pulling away from him. Her eyes locked on the name glowing against the screen. Amanda's name, faint and tiny, from the phone, which buzzed in Noah's hand. She looked down at herself-at her rumpled shirt, bare legs, flushed skin, and she felt sick. How could she do this? It was bad enough that it was her stepbrother, but he was taken.

Noah sat up too, phone still in his hand, brow furrowed. "Violet--"

She didn't wait for him to explain. She reached for her panties and leggings, tugging them back on with trembling fingers. She didn't meet his eyes as she stood. "I have to go."

"Violet--"

She shook her head, already moving, already putting space between them. "Don't." And then she walked away, barefoot, heart racing, nausea rising in her stomach. Each step felt heavier than the last as she walked up the steps. When she reached her room, she shut the door behind her and sat on the edge of her bed in the dark. The only light came from the hallway under her door, a sliver of gold that didn't reach her face. She didn't turn on the lamp. She didn't want to see herself in the mirror.

What did I just do?

She hugged her knees to her chest as she lay down. She felt disgusted, but buried beneath the shame and panic was something else, something hotter and possibly more dangerous.

She wanted more. More of his hands on her. More of his mouth. More of the way he'd looked at her like she wasn't invisible for once. She pressed her palms to her face and exhaled, trying to breathe him out of her skin, but his scent still clung to her, and his voice still echoed in her ears.

And then--

Buzz.

Her phone lit up beside her on the nightstand.

Bri - 11:24 p. m.

How's movie night with QB1? Still awake or already nerding out over time travel trivia?

Violet stared at the screen; her fingers hovered above the keyboard. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't say what she really wanted to. I kissed him. He touched me. I let him. I wanted him. I still do.

She placed her phone face down on her nightstand and changed into her pajamas--soft flannel shorts and a loose tank top--and climbed into bed without brushing her hair, without brushing her teeth, without doing anything that might make her feel normal again. The guilt still gnawed at her, coiling in her stomach, curling tighter every time she closed her eyes and felt him again--his mouth, his hands, the weight of him between her legs. The sound of her own voice whispering no, followed by the heat of her body saying yes.

She pulled the covers over herself and tried to force the thoughts away, but instead she heard Noah's voice downstairs. Not laughing. Arguing. She couldn't hear the words, only the sharp edges. There was a pause, then another burst, lower and clipped. Then suddenly silence.

Then footsteps slow and heavy up the stairs. They stopped right in front of her door, and she held her breath. She swore she could feel him on the other side. Then the footsteps turned and walked away. A door closed down the hall. Violet sighed as she continued to lay in her bed, nausea continuing to build in the pit of her stomach.

You're disgusting, she thought to herself. He's your fucking stepbrother, and he has a fucking girlfriend. But her body didn't listen. Her thighs pressed together, and she turned on her side, slowly slipping a hand beneath the waistband of her shorts, then closed her eyes. She shouldn't, but all she could think of was Noah. His lips. His breath. His mouth. The pressure of his body. The way he whispered her name. She bit her lip and buried her face in her pillow, muffling a soft sound as her fingers moved slowly, shame curling hot in her chest. She thought of his green eyes staring up at her. The way he pulled her close like she was something precious.

She breathed heavily, feeling herself rise to her peak, and she moved her fingers away. She wanted this to last; wanted the guilt to remain buried for just a bit longer. When her peak faded, she carefully moved her fingers back, this time moving them lower and sliding two inside of her soaked hole. She gasped at how she was practically dripping, her fingers moving deep within her. Her other hand moved under her shirt and gently grabbed at her breasts, squeezing it before flicking her thumb over her nipple. She bit her lip as her head pushed further into the pillow. It felt good, but nowhere near as good as Noah.

What would it feel like to have his hands on her breasts? His thumbs on her nipples... or even his mouth? That thought alone sent her over, faster than she wanted, but harder than she expected. She arched and trembled quietly under the covers, guilt and desire twisted inside her--equal parts poison and craving. She bit her pillow as she clenched around her fingers, her mouth releasing stifled, shuddering gasps. She slowly took her hand out of her shorts, and she could smell the intensity of her arousal. She gasped at how even after two orgasms... her body pulsed for more.

Violet pulled her blanket further up onto her body. She didn't know what would happen next, but she knew for damn sure...

... everything would be different.