A Stepbrother's Rare Secret [Shitty-On-Purpose]

A Stepbrother's Rare Secret

A/N: Wrote this for shits and giggles. Not meant to be majestic
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The dark overcast sky hovered over the small town in the pacific northwest. Soft rumbling emerged followed by drizzling rain. It was as if God took a piss after a long day, and it split off sprinkling in all directions providing a holy golden shower to every tree, every plant, and every rooftop.

Hannah Davis, an eighteen year old high school graduate, was curled up in her armchair in front of the warm, crackling fireplace, leisurely listening to the tapping raindrops that trickled down her window. She had spent the entire afternoon like that, immersed in her romance novel. As an unrelated side note, all of the characters in that book were chickens. Don't ask why. Don't even fucking think about asking why.

Or else.

Speaking of romance, Hannah looked over her shoulder when she heard the front door open. It was her stepbrother, Michael Butler.

“Just on time,” Hannah thought. Michael had been out of her line of sight long enough. Not even her chicken erotica, I mean, romance novel could prevent Hannah from feeling as though she had abruptly quit morphine.

“Hey,” Hannah called out from the living room.

“Hello,” Michael's deep, honeyed voice greeted her back. It gave Hannah pleasant shivers from her spine to her womb.

It took every bit of willpower for Hannah to not gawk at her stepbrother for more than a few seconds. She already did that when he was asleep at night. Every night, she would creep up to his bed, positioned close enough to get a whiff of his fresh scent every time she inhaled, and just stare until her eyes burned. She would forget to blink once in a while but she was working on it.

Hannah tried to shift her attention back to the page she was reading, but she just couldn’t focus on its words. Instead, her mind drifted to the day she met Michael.

Hannah was twelve years old, and her mother met her now-husband, Steve. Hannah's parents had divorced two years ago, after her dad had stolen peanut butter from the corner store one too many times. Her mother was allergic to peanut butter. Fortunately, Hannah got to visit him every week, even if it usually consisted of her dad crying in the basement while she watched Netflix all day.

At first, she had absolutely no interest in meeting Michael. Like most kids of divorced parents, she struggled to adapt to the idea of a blended family. She stubbornly objected and protested, but it did no good. And there she was, stepping into Steve's house.

That was when she spotted a tall, preteen boy standing by the kitchen counter chewing on an apple. He heard Hannah's footsteps approaching and turned his head to look at her, enabling Hannah to have a good, clear look of his stunning face.

Like Hannah, he was also twelve-years-old at the time. He had silky, brown hair that was a grown-out undercut. His thick brows had arcs that looked like they were sculpted by angels. Each time he took a bite, his perfectly white teeth were exposed.

Hannah remembered how her eyes had met with his. She failed to comprehend how two white orbs with brown pupils could take her breath away from this galaxy.

And that boy was Michael.

Everything Michael did made Hannah blush. Even during lunch at a local diner, Michael somehow appeared extraordinary and perfect even when he so much as dipped his fries in his ketchup. Though she didn’t dare tell anyone, she wished no more than to share those fries with him.

It wasn’t long before Hannah found herself fantasizing about her future with him. She visualized their wedding day and romantic picnics every night by the lake. She hoped that someday they could be together, even if not today. She would just figure out how to get him to like her in THAT way.