4. Jordan

FOUR

Insufferable. Absolutely insufferable. Asher turned off the AC in my car again. "Penguins would freeze in here."

"Do you mind?" I squeezed through clenched teeth, then turned the AC back on.

My bratty passenger and forced stepbrother wore a loose linen shirt, only half buttoned up. Making him chilly was supposed to force him to close those goddamn buttons and cover up his smooth chest. It was bad enough that he wore the shortest shorts that had ever been made, his legs covered in such rare and fine hair that it was almost invisible. Heat flooded the car when Asher lowered the window and let the broiling air blow into the car. "That's better." And after that, he sat in silence.

I resolved not to wonder about anything. It only ever left me more confused than before I tried to understand. For one thing, I could vividly remember Asher refusing to take his shirt off until the moment he cannonballed into the lake. It had happened a few years ago, but it had given me a clear idea of the guy. He was shy and possibly insecure. Yet here he was, his chest practically bare, his shorts tight, his hair flying in the heated wind that blew into the car.

My palms grew slick with sweat after two minutes of Asher's antics with the AC and car window. Worse still, I could feel sweat break over my back. We had hours yet to go and the last thing I needed was to fall asleep at the wheel with this heat.

I pressed the button that controlled the passenger window and rolled it up. Asher and I looked at one another. He was pissed as fuck. His face was like stone and his green eyes flashed with anger.

My gaze lingered on him only for a moment before I forced myself to look at the road. I couldn't stand these staring competitions Asher was so intent on. Ever since I'd met him, he had a way of looking at me as if he saw something horrible. The little frown that touched his perfect, black eyebrows and the way the corners of his lips twisted, it was like I disgusted him.

Not that it was important. Our parents had gotten married and created a neat little clusterfuck of a blended family, pretty much removing all the options from the table. I hadn't realized I'd wanted options until they were gone.

"It's cold," Asher complained. It was something he was very good at.

"Button up your shirt." My tone was flat, my eyes never leaving the road.

Asher snorted. "It's called style. Read about it."

"Since when do you care about style?" I didn't want to get dragged into yet another fight with Asher. None of this was supposed to be happening. For one thing, I was supposed to be getting ready for a beach vacation with Beckett. And if I backtracked a little further, Asher and I were never supposed to be forced into this kitchen sink of a family. I'd been almost a grown-ass guy when Dad decided to remarry. I didn't need the added responsibility or the brotherly relationship everyone expected.

"Since when do you care about what I care about?" Asher muttered.

I left it at that, grinding my teeth and wondering how Beckett was doing. He had been acting so weird lately, probably worrying about being away from Caden for weeks before his boyfriend could join us. I had to give it to him, the whole beach vacation with just the two of us hadn't been the best idea. He would sit around and think of Caden while I did all the fun stuff like picking up girls. Or boys. Now that Beckett had come out, I had nothing to worry about. Almost nothing.

There was only one little thing I hadn't fully processed about my sexuality. It had never bothered or worried me that I was bi. I'd kept it to myself mostly because I was always in the straight crowd and the locker rooms of my high school hadn't been the most welcoming place to boys who also liked boys. Girl talk had been dominant, so I had just kept half of my truth to myself once I had understood all of it. But that was where the problem lay. The moment I had realized that there was more to like in this world than just one gender. The spark that had awakened this deep and wonderful understanding.

I had been sixteen years old when it happened. For an entire year, Dad had been dragging me to see Eileen and her son, who had acted all tough and cool like I was intruding into his world, but it was over the summer after that first year that it happened. We'd been out by the lake, Asher and I, and he'd finally taken his T-shirt off. He had slouched and moved away from me even though I was swimming and only saw him from the corner of my eye. The sun had kissed his honey-brown hair, and his long, dark eyelashes had framed his big, green eyes in that one moment when we noticed each other. My heart had hammered so abruptly that I had first thought it was a panic attack. I'd had a lot on my plate that summer and it wouldn't have been the strangest thing ever. A dose of panic crawled into my heart, of course, and I flailed and spun to stay afloat. But it was in the heartbeats that followed, when the adrenaline wore off, that I understood. I hadn't panicked about the weight of expectations placed on me by school, Dad, or my coach. I had seen Asher. Just that. Plain and simple. I had seen him in an unexpected light. I had seen him as someone who could become my best friend, my favorite company, my insecure ward in need of a big guy to protect him. I had seen him as someone I wanted to touch. To smell. To look at until sunset.

To kiss.

None of it happened, of course. Asher had pouted and fumed through the years we had spent together. The few passing attempts I had made had been met with daggers until I had given it up.

Two years ago, when Eileen had told me Asher was gay, it hadn't been a surprise. I had always suspected — hoped? I wasn't sure — that he was. And when it was out in the open, his blatant refusal to even talk to me about it was a clue. It's none of your business, Jordan, I had told myself and lived with it. It wasn't like I would do anything with the information if he had cared to share. I wouldn't meddle in his love life.

But it was hard to keep the distance when he lived one door down the hall in the team house. And even harder when he insisted on having this silly style that could almost be categorized as a driving hazard. My gaze remained on the road, but I couldn't stop thinking about his thighs. I'd glanced a few times, more because I had been pissed off at his window shenanigans than for any other reason, but I had seen the creamy skin of his bare thighs and the curve of his crotch packed in denim shorts. And now I couldn't get these things out of my head.

I turned on the radio to kill this horrible silence. Asher could be mouthy when he felt like it, but he almost never felt like it when I was within hearing range. Asher sank lower in his seat and his knees spread further apart. He unhooked his dark brown sunglasses from the middle button of his shirt, stuck them on his face, and looked out of his window.

It gave me a chance to glance at him again. His cream shirt was well apart. It just covered his nipples, leaving the smoothly rounded inner curves of his pecs on display. The middle button of his shirt was done just under the center of his torso, and a silly wave of excitement passed through me when I thought of spending my summer break by the lake. I suspected I would pass by shirtless Asher this summer more than any summer before. Whatever had helped him overcome his fear of undressing around others was actually a blessing and a curse. It was why I no longer allowed myself to leave the shower without a towel. Just the thought of being naked in the same room as him made my face flush.

"What?" he spat in annoyance.

God, I hated him. "What ‘what?'"

"You're wheezing and grinding your teeth," Asher said. "You need to give me a heads-up if you're about to fall over."

I gritted my teeth harder and focused. "I can never tell if it's your sense of humor or your neverending cynicism that I like the most about you."

"Like about me? That's rich." He crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps swelling under the shirt's sleeves.

"I'm trying to do a nice thing here, Asher. The least you could do is be grateful." He was an impossible guy. There was never anything I could do right. It always had to look like I was attacking him. I learned to keep my distance.

"I didn't ask for this favor," he said bluntly.

"Does it always have to be about owing someone something?" My hands gripped the wheel so hard I felt like I was about to break it. This was why I didn't talk to him any more than I had to. Most of the time, it was easy to avoid it.

"You're the one waving your dick about the nice thing you're doing." Asher ran a hand through his wavy hair in frustration.

Was I wrong to be so annoyed that he would mention ‘my dick,' even if it were figurative? "Oh, shut up, Asher. You're acting like a spoiled child. Which, let's face it, doesn't require any acting at all." The words tore free from the constraints I'd put around them. The anger at his language — and I didn't mean the fact he cursed, but the fact that he was so nonchalant about saying that I was waving my dick or whatever — mixed with the frustration of all my plans falling through and with the added pressure of having to spend countless days around him made for a perfect storm. Not even a carpool peace offering meant anything to this guy. But I wouldn't explain myself to him. He didn't deserve anything of the sort. "I swear to God, if you keep picking a fight, you're gonna get it. But you'll regret it, too. So shut up, take a nap, and wait until we arrive. Then we can go our separate ways. You don't have to see me and I don't have to see you." How we would pull that off, I didn't know, but at least while Eileen and Dad were away, I could do a lot to avoid Asher.

He pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring, and leaned back in his seat. His head turned away from me without another word. He gazed out the window silently and I was almost grateful. The only thing better than this would have been a nice fucking word from him. But the chances of Asher sharing anything nice with me, even if it didn't cost him a damn thing, were lower than the odds of winning the lottery.

I didn't waste my money on lottery tickets. And I wouldn't waste my breath on a thorny asshole I had to live with.

After I took the right exit from the highway, I drove up the winding road through the hills. Higher and higher we went. Endless pastures and fields with scattered houses gave way to rare forests. The forests thickened and grew darker, made up more of evergreens than oak and ash and birch of the lower lands.

Dad's house — or our house, as Dad always insisted on saying since merging our families — was the work of his hands and his company. When the collision time had arrived, Dad had given up the smaller house in the city where he and I had lived in order to move in with Eileen and Asher. There was a spare bedroom for me in that house, so I wasn't devastated by the move. Beckett had still been around, even if it was a little further away than I'd hoped, and I didn't need to change schools so late in the game. But this was the house Dad and I truly loved. This was the one he wouldn't have given up. Had it ever been up to him, this was where we would have lived all along.

It wasn't a vast and luxurious place without heart and soul. But it wasn't so small that the only way to call it was ‘cozy.' The house had a sprawling front lawn and a gravel road between the garage and the main road, which was seldom used since this place was as deserted as it could be. A few houses existed this deep in the woods and high in the hills, but nothing that resulted in a lot of traffic.

The exterior walls of the house were white wood with deep green windows and window shutters. The front porch was big enough for family breakfasts and evening iced tea where twice as many people as there ever were could sit comfortably.

I parked the car in front of the garage and stepped outside with an annoyed stepbrother trailing me once we started unloading our luggage. He lifted all his things out of the trunk and didn't seem to mind carrying them all at once, even though they were about twice his size. Two backpacks, a laptop bag, a huge duffel, a large suitcase, and a couple of smaller bags with things that didn't fit anywhere else were all hanging from his shoulders and hands. He hauled his stuff up the stone path Dad and I had made by ourselves; I had been barely older than a child when Dad built this house. I was old enough to assist him sometimes. I was carrying my second round of luggage, walking up the path behind Asher.

Some devil didn't let me control myself. My gaze trailed his back from his broad shoulders all the way to his shorts. They hugged his round ass like someone had custom-made them to increase his sexiness. I hated that his style worked for me. I hated that anything about him worked for me. He was my stepbrother, for fuck's sake, whether I liked it or not.

Even so, I let my gaze linger on his ass. It was only fair. He'd irked me for years and if I could get back at him like this, without him even knowing, then nobody lost anything.

Asher's shorts were rolled up at the bottom, tight around his thighs, and more than a little revealing. My heart stumbled when he lifted his right foot up the steps to the porch. I watched the fine curve of his ass and the tensing of his muscles as he lifted his suitcases and climbed the three steps.

He spun his head wildly over his shoulder, his wavy hair flying like a lion's mane. "Do you have your key?" he asked. He wasn't as terse as I might have expected. "Mine's at the bottom of my backpack."

All my keys were together and they dangled from my middle finger. "Yep." I set my luggage next to his, unlocked the door, and then entered the house. It was warm inside, although it was heaven compared to the heat outside.

My dad's craftiness and experience truly showed in the house. The front door opened to a small foyer leading directly to the stairs ahead. On the right side was the master bedroom with a big, private bathroom. Left, two short steps separated the foyer from the airy living room, connected to the dining room and the north-facing kitchen in the back of the house. There were three bedrooms upstairs, one of which was perpetually empty because Asher didn't like anyone enough to put up with them for a week and because I hadn't wanted to subject Beckett to Asher's glares for an entire week until he moved into our team house. In short, having Dad and Eileen cram Asher and me together meant neither of us wanted to bring friends around that much. There was another bathroom up there; one I had to share with Asher. It was still better than the bathroom in the city, where our rooms connected and we walked in on each other countless times.

Asher shut the door and turned on the AC to an acceptable level. I'd half expected him to make a sauna out of this place so he could rock his style some more. And despite the tiniest sliver of conflicting feelings, I was mostly glad that Asher wasn't half-naked all the time. It was distracting. It taunted me to notice him. It was painful.

What good would noticing his attractive body do? None. He was — and had always been — strictly off limits. From the very moment our eyes had met on that summer day when my bisexuality roared into the forefront of my mind, Asher Sullivan was forbidden. He had been off limits before, but I hadn't known I had wanted him then.

The less I was tempted to want him again, the better for us all. He wouldn't welcome anything I could offer him and our parents were still sweet with each other like they'd just gotten married.

"What now?" Asher asked, looking around. "Do we just…?"

I shrugged. "Do whatever you were gonna do on your own, I guess," I suggested.

His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than was strictly necessary. It told me nothing — in fact, it was all just a product of my imagination — but I wondered if his plan for being alone in the house included anything he wouldn't want someone to overhear. The trouble with team houses and shared accommodation was that the walls could be thin. Sometimes, a guy just wanted to let his voice go where it wanted, and an empty house in the mountains was the ideal place to do that.

I wondered what his mouth looked like when he moaned.

Stop this, I snapped at myself. Heat crawled up my neck. You will never find out. And it's for your own good. So, don't even think about it. I considered myself a reasonably smart guy. I didn't make mistakes. My grades were pretty damn good and I knew how to communicate with most people. The exception was Asher. I never knew what he thought and what his words meant. I never knew why he took my meaning wrong. And I was sorely tempted to make the worst mistake of all whenever I was near him for too long.

Maybe this whole thing wasn't a good idea after all. Maybe I was better off going to the city instead.

"Have you heard from Beckett?" Asher asked.

I stepped into the living room and tossed my backpack into the armchair. It wasn't plugged in, but it was one of those massaging armchairs with a million settings. I made a mental note to come down later and get a good, long backrub. "I don't think I'll hear anything before tonight."

Asher was silent for a short time. Then, he inhaled sharply and spoke matter-of-factly. "When you do, could you tell me how Nate's doing?"

"You can ask Beckett yourself," I suggested. "It would mean a lot to Beckett to hear the support."

Asher scoffed like I'd just insulted him. "Fine."

I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh, but my phone rang at that moment. I swallowed my reply and picked up. "Hey, Dad. What's up?"

"Did you boys get there alright?" Dad asked. I told him about my change of plans last night. He was glad to be able to see me sooner and for a while longer.

"We just got here. Everything went fine," I said. "When are you joining us?" It wasn't like I looked forward to the nights of Risk and the Great British Bakeoff that Dad and Eileen loved, but anything was better than the awkwardness I felt around Asher. That awkwardness often simmered for a long time and came to a boil when one said something wrong.

"Ah, that's just it," Dad said. "We have a leaking pipe in your and Asher's bathroom. It's lucky Eileen caught it. Nobody goes in there anymore. I'm trying to fix it ASAP, but parts of the wall are damp. You know you can't let your wall get moldy, right?"

I frowned. "Wh-what does that mean?"

"It's just a delay," Dad said. "It shouldn't take us too long to see how far the damage has gone. My team's coming first thing tomorrow, but we're stretched thin with Mrs. Woods' expansion. Don't let me bore you with the details, Jordan. Just let me know if you boys need anything. Chuck's driving back and forth twice a week and he can drop off whatever you need."

I had a car for those things. I didn't need Dad's workers to cater to me. "Well, should I just come there, then?"

"I thought about it," Dad said. "But if the damage has spread through the wall, you might not have a room to sleep in."

Fuck."Oh. Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you when I see you."

"Tell Asher that Eileen sends her love," Dad said. "And we'll join you as soon as this is over."

"Right. Okay. Bye, Dad," I said and hung up.

When I turned back to Asher, his face was struck with horror. "What happened?"

"Your mom sends her love," I said with a shrug. "In other news, we're going to stay here on our own for a while longer."

His nose wrinkled as he sneered. The fucker.

I told him about the pipe and the wall. Then I had to repeat that I didn't know a million times because he showered me with stupid questions like, "How did nobody see it sooner?" or "How bad is the damage?"

And when he finally ran out of the bathroom-related questions, he looked at me like this was the biggest defeat of his life. "What are we gonna do now?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "We're not lost in a jungle, Asher. Sleep in. Have cake for breakfast. Watch TV. I dunno."

But I knew that he wasn't asking me how to spend his time while we were here. The real question was, how were we going to survive each other for who knows how long? How would we keep from driving each other to the brink of madness?

And how would I keep my walls up and strong against his bare chest and round butt? He had no idea, but he was the greatest weapon against my defenses. He pushed all of my buttons with little more than breathing. And he did that without ever realizing that my pulse never failed to increase when he entered the room.

Maybe that was what I was into. Maybe I was just destined to pine from a distance, never to come nearer.