Chapter 2

2

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.

*

Sunday comes muchtoo quickly for my liking. I hate these fucking dinners Ellie and Glen put on, pretending we’re one big happy family and that Glen wasn’t secretly fucking her while he was still married to my mom.

If it wasn’t for my little tit-for-tat with Troy on Friday night, I wouldn’t be going at all.

We’re supposed to be there at one. They do this late afternoon/early dinner thing that makes no fucking sense to me. Can’t we eat at a normal time like most people? But they like us to get there early for more family time, which I think makes Glen feel important. He likes to feel important, and Ellie sure gives him that.

What I don’t expect to happen today is the knock that comes at my apartment door at twelve. It takes an hour to get home, and my plan is to leave at twelve thirty so I get there late, but as soon as a text follows the knock, I have a sinking feeling I know who’s standing outside.

I pick up my cell from the arm of the beat-up couch, and sure enough, there’s a text from Troy.

Lil Stepbro: Open the door.

Because of fucking course he would come here and ride with me.

“Get off my dick!” I call out, but the jerk just walks in.

“I’m not on your dick. It’s time to go.”

I lean back and turn my head to take him in—his dark-brown crew cut and the way it always looks neat as opposed to my longer, dirty-blond waves that I constantly have to push off my forehead. They never look like I haven’t spent my whole day running my fingers through them, partly because I have.

He’s clean-shaven, with innocent brown eyes that say he just wants to be a good boy—for our parents, in school, in life. I sorta want to say he has dick-sucking lips, though I’m not sure if that would be homophobic since he’s gay, but yeah, even I notice the mouth on him. And despite not playing football anymore, he still looks like a jock, wearing a Peach State U team shirt and shorts that look like a cross between dudebro and pretty boy. He’s everything Glen wishes I was but that I’ll never be.

“Why did you come here? You know I’ll always follow through on our deals. Missed me?”

“Like a rash. And I came so you wouldn’t be able to come sauntering in an hour or two late.”

“Me? I would never.”

“Let’s just go. Mom and Glen want us both to be there.”

“Ellie and Glen want a lot of things I don’t.” Like, they wanted to sneak around together at work to cheat on my mom, even though I didn’t want that.

“You only call him by his name to piss him off. Why is that fun for you?”

I shrug because he’s right. I like to piss Glen off in a different way from how I do it with Troy. With Glen, I really hate him and will never be able to forgive him for the shit he’s done. Plus, Dad is a title that’s earned, and if you ask me, he hasn’t fucking earned it.

I sigh and stand. “If you wanted to spend more time with me, you just had to ask.” Forget the fact that I still don’t have to ride with him. I can easily take my own car, but I won’t.

“I’ll drive,” is all Troy says, rather than rising to my teasing.

The truth is, I’m glad he came because it would have been hard to force myself to go. Glen called me last week, giving me shit about all the things Troy does that I don’t. Glen was in a frat and so is Troy. Glen played sports when he was young and so did Troy before he got injured. Troy texts his mom every week, and I sure as shit don’t do that with either of them. Why is it always Troy messaging her unless it’s about Sunday dinner? That’s how our little family works.

It’s not something I would ever share with anyone, but I always feel on edge when I’m going to the home Glen moved us into when he married Ellie. It’s like the anger I keep bottled up just wants to explode out of me when Glen is around. At least with Troy playing referee I can focus on him instead of all the other shit.

We’re quiet as we head to Troy’s car. I jump into the passenger seat and watch his shorts rise up his legs when he climbs in. Maybe I should make him shave them next time I win a bet. It’s something else that would be just between us. No one would know why he did it. The whole thing would be for me, and damn, that shit is the best.

On the other hand, I like him fuzzy too. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about before, but Troy does that to me a lot.

“Did you have fun with Danielle Friday night?” he asks after a moment.

“I did. Twice. I’m sure she had even more fun with me.”

Troy rolls his eyes. “You’re so conceited.”

“Why? Because I speak the truth? Because I don’t try to be who people want me to be?”

“I don’t do that, and there’s nothing wrong with keeping the peace.”

Yeah, we’ll never agree there, so I ask, “Did you have fun with that guy who was on your dick all night?”

Troy glances my way, real confusion in his expressive brown eyes. “What are you talking about? There was no guy on my dick all night.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.”

“Not everyone is like you. We were just chillin’.”

“Are you slut-shaming me?”

“No. Stop putting words in my mouth. You know that’s not what I meant.”

I do know that because my stepbro is perfect, and strangely, I like that about him. He isn’t the type of guy who would put someone down for how much they fuck or not.

I don’t respond, and Troy doesn’t push me on it. We don’t talk much the rest of the ride to the house. There’s green as far as the eye can see, the trees zooming by as Troy speeds down the interstate. My fingers beat against my thigh along with the music Troy is playing through his phone. As soon as he pulls into the driveway, a boulder lands in my gut, my whole body already feeling tense.

“You good?” Troy turns the car off, looking at me with a softness in his eyes.

“Fucking peachy.” The handle is warm against my skin as I grab it, then pull it open and step out.

I hear Troy mumble a quiet, “Dick.”

The house is bigger than the one we lived in when Glen was married to Mom. This one is a Georgian colonial with lots of brick and enough rooms for a small army. Glen and Ellie had picked it out together, wanting something completely new that was just theirs, but I’m sure it was really Glen who did the picking. Mom gave in on some things with him, but she would have hated a house this size. Mom liked things simpler. Glen makes good money as the CFO of a tech firm focusing on AI development. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t give a shit whom he puts out of work with their technology. He’s always about appearances, but as a whole, he’s given up on me. It’s mostly Ellie and Troy who try to include me, and again, Glen can always brag about Troy to his golf buddies.

I open the door and immediately smell Italian. It’s Glen’s favorite, and though Troy doesn’t like pasta much, Ellie will do anything to keep my father happy. Can’t they have Italian during the week and not when we come home?

“Hey, Mom, Glen,” Troy says as they look up at us from where they’re sitting in the living room. Football is on the television. I fucking hate football.

“You boys came together? How nice,” Ellie replies.

“It was Atlas’s idea,” Troy says, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to do me a favor by pretending this is something I wanted to do, or if he’s being a dick.

“I doubt that, but nice try. You shouldn’t cover for him,” Glen says. If there’s one thing we have in common, it’s that we both say how we feel, at least to each other.

“Because why wouldn’t I want to spend my day with someone who clearly loves being around me so much?” I throw back. I feel like the only reason he cares that Mom is dead is because he got stuck with me. There’s a whole lot worse I could say, but I stick to that.

“Who’s playing?” Troy asks, and I huff out an annoyed sound. It’s complicated, not liking my father or wanting anything to do with him, but also, a small part of me being jealous that Troy is the son he wishes I were. It’s not often I feel that way, but it creeps in from time to time.

Glen ignores me and starts to talk to Troy about the game. Troy sits on the couch beside Glen’s chair, while I keep off in my own world.

Glen asks him about school—he loves that Troy is going for mechanical engineering, not because he really gives a shit about Troy as much as it’s a bragging point.

“My sociology classes are great, if anyone cares. I’m considering being a social worker,” I say, and the room goes quiet. I don’t plan on being a social worker, but my mom was one. Glen is always on my case because he thinks the only reason I’m studying sociology is to piss him off since Mom went to college for the same degree.

“Atlas! That’s enough!” Glen warns, his voice hard.

“What the fuck ever. I’m going outside for some fresh air.”

As I’m walking out the front door, I hear Ellie say she’s checking on our food—and confirming that she is indeed making pasta, Glen’s favorite.