“Sure,” I say, because I can’t think of a reason to say no that won’t sound weird.
Sofia walks over to Marshall and introduces herself. Marshall smiles at her, and it’s genuine, his posture loosening. He says something I can’t hear over the music, and she laughs.
Luca takes my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor. It’s packed, bodies moving in the dim flashing lights. Luca finds a spot and pulls me in, his hands going to my hips. I put my hands on his shoulders and let myself move to the music. It’s upbeat, a remix of something I vaguely recognize, the bass heavy and relentless.
Luca is a great dancer. He moves with confidence, his body close but not too close, giving me space to breathe. I try to focus on him, on the music, on anything but the fact that Marshall is somewhere nearby dancing with Sofia.
I last about thirty seconds before I look over Luca’s shoulder.
They’re a few feet away. Sofia is smiling at him, her hands on his chest, and Marshall is smiling back. It’s an easy smile, relaxed, and he moves with her like he’s done this a hundred times. I watch the way his hands rest on her waist, light and respectful, and something ugly twists in my chest.
I look away and focus on Luca. He’s watching me, his eyes bright, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re a good dancer.”
“Thanks. You too.”
The song shifts, and the next one is slower. The beat drops, the tempo turning sensual. Luca’s hands tighten on my hips, and he pulls me closer, his body pressing against mine. I let him because this is what I’m here for. Distraction.
I look over his shoulder again.
Sofia has wrapped her arms around Marshall’s neck, her body pressed against his. Marshall’s hands are on her waist, and they’re swaying together, the space between them gone. She says something to him, and he laughs, his head tilting back. She runs her fingers through his hair, and my stomach clenches.
This is fine. This is what I wanted. Marshall is having fun. He deserves that after everything with his divorce. I should be happy for him.
I’m not happy.
Luca says something, but I don’t hear it. My attention is locked on Marshall and Sofia. The ugly feeling in my chest spreads, sharp and consuming, and I recognize it for what it is.
Jealousy.
It’s irrational. I have no claim over my straight stepbrother. But I can’t stop the feeling. It claws at me, burning and bitter, and I hate it. I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I can’t look away.
“Hey,” Luca says, louder this time. “You okay?”
I force my gaze back to him. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? You seem tense.”
“I’m fine.”
He studies me for a moment, then leans in again, his lips brushing my ear. “You’re really hot, you know that?”
“Thanks.”
I’m not in the mood for this anymore. I start thinking of excuses, ways to extract myself politely, but before I can say anything, I see movement in my peripheral vision.
I look over Luca’s shoulder just in time to see Sofia reach up and kiss Marshall.
The decent thing would be to look away and give them privacy, but I don’t. I’m frozen, my eyes locked on them, watching as Sofia’s lips press against Marshall’s.
I don’t want to see if he kisses her back. I can’t handle it.
Luca glances over his shoulder, following my gaze. He sees Marshall and Sofia kissing, and when he turns back to me, his smile sharpens. “Great idea.”
Before I can process what he means, his hands are on my face and his lips are on mine.
I’m so shocked I can’t move. I just stand there, frozen, my lips pressed against his. My eyes are open. I’m not kissing him back. I’m not doing anything. I’m just a statue while he kisses me, and all I can think about is Marshall and Sofia.
I can’t help it and look again.
