The Step Bet by Riley Hart and Devon McCormack

Atlas

My eyes shouldn’t be on my stepbrother’s ass when he walks away, not only because of the familial relationship, but because I’m supposed to be as straight as Troy is queer. I’ve never fucked a guy, never wanted to fuck a guy. I don’t have a problem with anyone who does. It’s just never been something that’s crossed my mind, but still I watch Troy the way I always do, remembering what it was like the day he wore a pair of panties—panties that only I knew about. What it was like seeing him shift and being the only person who knew why. Knowing he’d worn them all those years ago because those were the terms. He lost, so he had to submit to my naughty little punishment, crafted especially for him.

It gave me the best kind of rush. Made me feel something other than anger and my hatred of the world. These games I play with Troy make my head less chaotic. They feel good. Thinking about our bets still makes me feel that way.

Because even though I can’t sort out why, there’s always been something different about the way I react to Troy. He’s fascinating as fuck, which pisses me off but also keeps drawing me in.

“Hey, man. Why’d you wanna meet here?” Taylor asks as he approaches me with our friend Brenner. My gaze darts around to make sure none of Troy’s boys are in earshot. The last thing I need is them hearing I made up the whole Taylor-and-Brenner-wanted-to-come argument. Jesus, Troy’s got me fucked up. Now I’m making up excuses to be at a party where he is.

“Cheap booze,” I reply, which is partly true. The frat charges a small fee to get in, but now we get to drink all their alcohol.

“Bet.” Brenner grins. He’s always down to get drunk. I am too.

The guys grab a drink while I watch my stepbro plead my case to his friends. When they look my way, I raise my cup to them and offer my best smile. It seems to work because they shake their heads and say something to Troy but walk away without coming over to harass my ass.

Taylor and Brenner return with red cups full to the brim with frothy beer, and we shoot the shit for a while.

“How’s class going?” I ask, still watching Troy. My stepbro is studying mechanical engineering, something he’s always loved and been good at.

“Eh, it’s school. How good can it be?” Taylor replies.

“Mine are pretty cool, actually,” Brenner says. “I’m really digging my History of Contemporary Architecture class.” He licks the beer foam from his top lip.

I only met them when I started at Peach State, but it didn’t take long to learn that Brenner is obsessed with architecture. He doesn’t take much seriously, but he does that.

“Cool,” I reply, and then we listen to him ramble about it.

The backyard of the frat house is getting more and more crowded, filled with annoying people I have no desire to be around. Fucking Troy and the weird things he makes me do.

“At least there are some fine-ass girls here tonight,” Taylor says, taking in the view. I can’t deny that he’s right.

“Guys too.” Brenner bounces on his toes, unable to keep still. He’s bisexual, so you never know whom he’s going to end the night with.

I agree with them while watching Troy over my cup as I take a drink. Now he’s talking to a guy I don’t recognize. His gaze darts my direction before it shoots away again, and he transfers his weight from one foot to the other. I tell myself it’s because of me, which sends warmth through my belly and might make me even more fucked up than I already knew I was. Making him a little uncomfortable shouldn’t feel good.

“I thought you weren’t allowed at Alpha Theta Mu parties, Atlas?” Danielle says. She’s in my Classical Sociological Theory class and is always flirting with me. She’s hot—long brown hair, brown eyes, and an ass that doesn’t stop, so it’s not like I mind when she hits on me. I quite enjoy it, to be honest.

“Aw, come on. You know I do what I want. Who’s gonna tell me I can’t go somewhere?” I tease. Of course, I wouldn’t be here if Troy hadn’t put a leash on his boys, but that’s beside the point.

“You’re bad, Atlas McCallister.”

“I am. You wanna be bad with me tonight?” I quirk a brow at her. It’s a cheesy line, but I figure she’ll take it for what it is. I want to hook up tonight, and she’ll either be down or not, and if not, then I’ll go on my way.

“You know I do.”

I set my cup down, the beer already forgotten. “Come here, then.” I hook my finger in the belt loop of her shorts and tug her closer. Danielle comes easily. “Let’s stay here for a while first.” Because I’m curious who the guy is with Troy and if they’re going to disappear together for the night.

Brenner and Taylor mumble something about me being a lucky motherfucker, and to them, I probably am. Not just because of Danielle, but because they don’t know shit about my life, not really.

They don’t know how much I hate my father, that even being in the same room with him makes me feel like I’m suffocating.

They don’t know that every time I look at him, I’m drowning in the pain of losing my mom. That I stood by while he’d broken her heart so he could play house with Troy’s mom. One big happy family. Fuck that noise.

It’s all on me that my friends don’t know much about my life. We basically live to bust each other’s balls. It’s our friendship language, but I also know I can trust them. They’d be there for me if I let them. I just don’t know how.

Danielle presses her breasts against my chest, and I let my hand slide down her back, then land high on her ass, in the same spot I’d once had Troy’s name written… Like, what the fuck even is that? I don’t understand how he gets me to do shit like that. I excuse it with the logic that if I don’t follow through with the bets I lose, he won’t follow through with the bets I win—and that is the best fucking feeling.

Danielle’s lips ghost over mine, and I kiss her back, tongue in her mouth. When I look over again, Troy is watching me, and damned if I don’t watch him too while I’m kissing her.