The Stepbrother // Luke Hemmings

Proposition

3
Proposition

Gathering my curly, brown hair in a bunch, I tie it up in a bun and roll my neck to the side, sighing. It was seriously a long day and to say I was tired, would be an understatement. I was standing in the middle of my room attempting to connect and plug up my TV when a loud thud sounded from the door. Looking up, my eyes meet with Luke's and I huff out an annoyed, "I thought your dad said you were never home. Why are you still here?"

He leans against my door frame, "You're really funny, kid."

Deciding that I'd rather ignore him than to indulge in a conversation, I return to hooking my TV up. I mean, it's not totally my fault that I was mean to Luke. Imagine, if you grew up an only child most of your childhood and you suddenly had to share a house with another kid your age, how would you feel? Especially, if it was a guy at that.

I was so not looking forward to falling into open toilet seats and coming home after school to empty refrigerators. I glance at Luke; he was pretty slim. Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about him eating everything after all.

Still, he was an ässhole.

"The last box," he kicked it in my direction and I narrowed my eyes. "I don't know what the héll is in there, but whatever it is, it's heavy as fûck." His foot shot out, hitting the side of it again.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop kicking my stuff, Luke."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop kicking my stuff, Luke." He mocked, in a nasally high pitched voice, before laughing to himself.

Second time in a day he mocked me, and as I was saying, he was an ässhole. Turning away from him, I pressed the power button on my TV and sifted through the cardboard box for the remote. I settled on MTV deciding I'd watch a rerun of 'Finding Carter', and just as I went to place the remote down, I heard the springs on my bed bounce.

Sprawled out in the middle of it was Luke, sneakers and all. "I don't like this show very much." He crossed his hands behind his head and sighed, "I think 'How I Met Your Mother' is on, turn to that."
This kid couldn't be fûcking serious, "What? I'm not turning to anything." Stomping over to him, I knocked his feet off of my bedspread and gripped his upper arm, "Get out of my room."

A smirk lifted the corners of his mouth and he shook himself free from my hold, "Chill, Anastasia. I'm only kidding. Plus, I have a proposition for you, little sis."

I stare at him blankly, "I'd rather you called me by my name."

"Proposition?" He repeated.

"Go on."

A hand sifts through his hair, "I think if we're gonna be living together, we need to get to know each other a little bit more. You know, since our rooms are practically next door to each other? I'm gonna need to know what you're all about."

"What I'm all about?" I scoff and head over to unpack another box, "No thanks, I'd rather hold on to my privacy while I still can."

"Think about it," he started. "You could be some kind of gangbanger or drug addict. I need to know if I'm gonna have to protect my dad."

"Fortunately for you, I'm not either of those."

"Well, that's what a gangbanger or a drug addict would say." He sits up, grabbing the remote off of my nightstand and starts to flick through channels. I star at his profile; a tiny dimple poked out in his cheek and he had an exceptional nose; very cute with a nice curve.

"How old are you, anyway?" I ask, suddenly. And then in an attempt to not sound so interested in really knowing, I add, "You look a little too old to still be living with your father."

I turn my attention to the box he bought in, while I wait for him to answer. Books; I take my time taking them out and stacking them.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Maybe not," I shrug. "Tell me anyway."

"I'll pass." I look up at him and watch as he runs a hand over his face before turning to me. "On a serious note, I think we're gonna to have to act like we like each other in front of our parents."

I laugh, "You're just full of great ideas tonight, aren't you?"

"It would appear so."

"Well, no. There's no way in héll that I'm doing that."

"Why not?"

"Because then my mother will think that I'm okay with this," I point between us. "And I can tell you right now, I'm not."

My mom might've been able to get me to like Andrew for a few months just long enough for her to get engaged, whisk into a new house, and then force me into having a stepbrother. But if she thought that I was going to start liking him too, she had another thing coming.

Over my dead body.

His eyebrows furrowed and he glowered at me, "You don't even know me."

"I know that you're an ässhole."

"Yeah, how?"

"You thought I was some girl that was here to have sëx with you!" I argue, fed up and annoyed, "You know what? Just get out of my room, okay?"

"With pleasure, crazy." Jumping up, he starts over to the door, "Also, I'm seventeen." Then without another word, he kicks down the stack of books I'd just built and walks out.

What a diçk.

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