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His fist shot out in retaliation, and I tried to duck, but he still struck a glancing blow off my jaw that made my teeth smash down on my tongue. A burst of blood filled my mouth, and I did what any sensible person would do—I lunged for him. He was gripping his nose, which I now saw had blood pouring from it, but he caught me around my waist, twisting us and sending the back of my head smacking into one of the cupboards.
I shoved him away from me and ran for the sink, where I ran the tap, holding my mouth open under the stream of icy water until the bleeding had slowed right down. When I wasn’t in danger of looking like a vampire who’d just fed when I opened my mouth, I withdrew my head and glanced over at Huxley. He was still standing there, blood dripping down his face.
For fuck’s sake. I grabbed a handful of kitchen towels and stalked over to him, shoving the towels into his free hand. “Apply pressure to your nose with these, idiot. Tip your bloody head back too.”
Surprisingly, he actually followed my instructions, probably because he was in shock or something. Pulling out a chair at the island, he climbed onto it and rested his elbows on the counter, keeping his head tilted back as he pressed the wad of kitchen towels to his nose.
I crossed back over to the other side of the island. The oven beeped, letting me know my pizza was ready, but I’d lost my appetite. After switching it off, I looked back over at Huxley. “Let me say one thing. You have a stupid fucking flimsy reason for disliking me on sight. But guess what—first impressions count, and yours was the worst first impression I’d ever had. And the second. And the third. And you know what I realised? I really fucking dislike you. You’re a complete wanker, and I want you to stay the fuck out of my way.”
He lowered the bloodstained tissue, and his eyes fixed on mine, hate burning in them. “I fucking hate you. I don’t give a shit that our parents are getting married; you’re not and never will be my brother. Stay the fuck away from me.”
Gathering up my laptop and schoolbooks, I gave him a cold smile. “It looks like we both want the same thing, doesn’t it? You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” I headed straight for the door and paused. “There’s a pizza and garlic bread in the oven. Have it, or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Your face has made me lose my appetite.”
With that, I walked away.
3
Stretching out on my bed, reclining on my back, I clicked the link on my laptop. My mum and stepdad were out, and my step-wanker’s door was shut and locked, so now it was time for me to spend some quality time with my right hand.
The video had only just started playing when there was a loud screech, and then it felt like the whole house shook as blaring guitar music blasted through the hallway.
Fucking Huxley. He wanted to disturb my alone time? I’d make him regret it.
Shooting upright, I hit a few buttons on my laptop, scrolling through the list of Wi-Fi speakers to the one labelled Huxley’s Room. Lucky for me, he had a video speaker, and unlucky for him, he was about to get a sudden surprise. I connected my laptop to his speaker, making his music cut out, and then skipped to the part of the video where the two guys were really going at it.
Then I turned his speaker volume all the way up.
It took less than two seconds for his roar of outrage to sound from down the hallway, followed by pounding footsteps. I launched myself off my bed, reaching the door just as he flung it open.
“What the fuck are you playing at?” He barrelled into me, snarling in my face. I shoved back, sending his body flying into the door, but he grabbed a handful of my T-shirt and yanked me into him. “I said, what the fuck are you playing at?”
“I was getting ready to have some quality alone time until you started playing your shitty emo music.”
“Shitty emo music? That’s Oasis, you ignorant bastard. Classic Britpop. Get an education and listen to some of the classics instead of your soulless, brain-dead pop shit.” Breathing hard, he curled his fingers into my T-shirt, holding me in place. I could’ve broken free of his hold, but the enjoyment of pissing him off made me stay in place. His chest rose and fell against mine rapidly, eyes narrowed and flashing with fire, and my lips curved into a grin.
“Britpop? The clue is in the name,” I said, just to rile him up even more. I knew it was some kind of indie rock genre, but I was happy to play ignorant if it meant I was getting under his skin. “Whatever it was, it was disturbing my alone time. You gonna turn your music down in future, or do I need to cast my porn to your speakers again to get my point across?”
His gaze flicked behind me to where my laptop was open on the bed, still playing the video I’d cast to his speaker. “Turn it off,” he ground out, shoving me away from him. Unprepared, I staggered backwards but recovered quickly.
He’d better not be thinking what I thought he was thinking. “Why? Have you got a problem with two men together?” My voice was low and dangerous. “Because I’m gay, and if you think we have a problem now, we’re gonna—”
“I’m bi, so no, I don’t have a problem with that,” he bit out, and I exhaled heavily.Good. Then my brain caught up with the information he’d just disclosed. He was bi?Fuck. No. That didn’t matter. He was my future step-wanker, and that’s all he ever would be. Plus, we hated each other, and yeah, hate sex was a thing, but not for me. I preferred my partners to actually like me.
Huxley derailed my unwelcome train of thought with a vicious glare. “You don’t get to cast your shit to my video speaker. You do it again and you can say goodbye to your laptop.”
Stepping back up to him, I pushed at his chest. “You play your music that loud again and you can say goodbye to yours.”
We stared at each other, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. Finally, though, my stubbornness won out when he dropped his gaze with another angry snarl, turning on his heel and yanking the door open. His parting words hung in the air as the door slammed shut behind him.
“I wish you’d never come here. Just fucking leave me alone.”
4
THREE MONTHS LATER
Happy fucking wedding day. No, scratch out thehappyand add several morefuckings and it would be closer to the truth. I gritted my teeth, lifting my joint to my lips in an attempt to mellow my mood enough to get through this farce of a ceremony. My bastard of a father was marrying hispersonal assistantafter what was, for all intents and purposes, an affair. Just how cliché could you get? And after throwing a world-record tantrum, complete with a screaming match and enough broken crockery to fill a mid-sized skip, my mother had waltzed out of my life. Hadn’t even given me the option of going with her. If I was lucky, she remembered to call every few weeks, but the last I’d heard, she was taking a trip to “find her inner child” or some shit, and apparently, she couldn’t use a phone while she was…wherever she was.
I angrily exhaled a cloud of smoke, not giving a shit that the smell was permeating my suit. My dad was far more interested in his new wife-to-be than me, and after witnessing eight weeks of their nauseating behaviour, I’d got the fuck out of there. All summer, I’d rotated between friends’ sofas and spare beds, all the while resenting the fact that Cole fucking Clarke was tucked up all cosy inmyhouse, playing happy families with his mum and my dad.
