Page 3 of Cueball & Double-Z (Alpha’s Rejects #5)

I just stood there, staring at the door to the apartment I shared with Cole, carrying the toiletries I’d stolen from the grocery store earlier, shoved into a plastic shopping bag I’d found in the garbage.

In my other hand, I carried a paper bag of McDonald’s burgers and fries, the scent of grease wafting up to my nose, making my stomach growl.

But I quickly forgot my hunger as I stared at the bold letters, which read, ‘ Eviction Notice .’

My eyes watered at the bright pink paper, taunting me. The pretty color with ugly words, mocking me. As if things couldn’t get any fucking worse, life flipped me the bird and told me to hold its beer.

I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth to shove off the growing emotions and control my trembling bottom lip.

I slid my arm through the plastic bag to free my hand so I could yank the note off the door.

They were giving us just days to vacate.

Ten days—ten fucking days to pack, find money for a new place, and move.

It was impossible.

I really tried to get the money for rent, but I’d recently lost my job after showing up late to work too many times. Between taking care of Cole and my car continuously crapping out, it was hard to get to work on time. Not that my shitty job as a cashier at a gas station paid all that much.

I’d also lost my previous job for yelling at the restaurant manager because they couldn’t keep the fucking floors clean.

I’d been busing and had a bucket full of dirty dishes that needed washing when I slipped on the greasy floor, breaking all the dishes as I went down.

He’d yelled at me for the mess, and I yelled back at him.

It hadn’t been my fault. Asshole. I limped out of there, flipping him the bird as I went.

That was my so-called life. Struggling to find work and make money, while caring for Cole, who also struggled to find a job. Rinse and repeat. I was only twenty-two, but I felt fifty-two.

With a deep breath, making sure my emotions were under control for Cole, I unlocked the door and walked inside the apartment.

He came bounding over to me, a huge smile on his face.

His roughly chopped, dirty blond bangs that I cut myself fell into his eyes, and he brushed them back with long fingers.

His hair needed cutting, but it looked good when it was longer.

Maybe I’d give it a trim next week so he could at least see.

Cole had huge blue eyes, brighter and bluer than mine which had more gray, all surrounded by a fan of thick, brown eyelashes and eyebrows that were darker than his hair. Every time I looked at him, my heart swelled and ached at the same time.

‘Is that a McDonald’s bag?’ he signed with rapidly moving fingers, bouncing on his feet.

I swallowed my anger and fears, nodding in response. “Yep, have at it.”

He snagged the bag from me and rushed toward our beat-up couch, opened the bag, and unwrapped a cheeseburger, groaning around a large bite as he fell back onto the sofa cushions, resting his socked feet on the old coffee table.

One sock was white and the other black. I would’ve smiled at that if I were in a better mood.

Despite all our struggles and hardships, he remained happy and full of life. At least, it seemed that way to me. Meanwhile, I constantly felt the crushing weight of responsibility and life slowly sapping the life out of me. Suffocating me. I fucking failed at adulting. It was pathetic.

As I put all the toiletries I’d stolen on the ancient green laminate countertop, Cole grunted to get my attention.

I craned my head back to him. He was asking me if I got the toothpaste he needed.

I lifted the oblong white box from the bag and waved it at him before setting it on the counter.

Then I pulled out the bottle of shampoo, bar of soap, deodorant, and body wash.

I almost didn’t have any toiletries after running into that huge dude earlier. My brain wanted to flee and leave everything where it fell before I got caught. I thought for sure he’d turn me in, but he just let me go.

I rested my back against the ancient counter, ran a hand through my hair, which also needed cutting, and stared as Cole ate while watching a show on the tiny, equally ancient TV. He was so easy to please. So easy to take care of. And I still fucking failed him.

He was the sunshine to my rain clouds, but even his brightness couldn’t uplift my mood.

Cole and I became stepbrothers when I was fourteen, and he was twelve.

As I got to know him, we grew strangely close.

I hadn’t expected that. I didn’t think I’d like having a brother, but it didn’t take long to not only like him, but to love him…

And not in a brotherly kind of way. In an inappropriate way.

He’d been a gangly teen, but his large, innocent eyes, his kindness, and his sunny, positive vibe sucked me right in.

I was fucking doomed from the start. My heart never stood a chance.

I tried to date here and there, but nothing stuck. It wasn’t as if I were a likable person. People struggled to relate to me, but not Cole. He seemed to have accepted me as I was.

With a deep sigh, I turned away from him, staring out the tiny, filmy kitchen window at the dirty city below, suddenly getting lost in a memory—a memory of something we didn’t do anymore. Have fun, laugh, and play .

I’ve got Cole pinned down, my larger hand gripping his wrists, pressing them to the bed. With my free hand, I tickle him. I swear he’s the most ticklish person I’ve ever met.

He giggles and yells at me to stop. “Zero!” he gasps. “Stop! Stop! Please!”

I love tickling him. Not only because he thrashes, and I love how he laughs, but it allows me to be close to him. I always try to find subtle ways to touch him, but I’m never inappropriate.

“I don’t think you’re begging hard enough,” I say, wiggling my fingers in his armpit.

He bucks off the bed, but I’m stronger, being eighteen now. He can’t get out of my grasp.

“You’re so… annoying! You have… zero… brain cells!” he wheezes, tears streaming down his face from laughing so hard. “Sto-op!” he yells in a mock-cry.

A grin tugs on my mouth. Cole always says that. Every time he doesn’t get his way, he says I have zero brain cells. It’s gotten to the point he just calls me ‘Zero’ all the time. I kind of like it, though. It’s as if I’m as special to him as he is to me.

“And you have no brain at all. Nada. Zip. Zilch,” I say, which is always my response because he likes it. And he loves being called Zilch. Cole loves having a nickname.

His scent rolls off him, and I hate it. I hate the way he smells because it just draws me into him. It’s citrus, laundry detergent, and all things Cole. I want to fucking inhale him.

When I sense the familiar burning pressure between my legs, I let him go before I get hard. Fucking embarrassing.

“Fine, you win, Zilch.”

Sometimes, when we’re out with our friends or in public where people don’t know us, we use our nicknames for fun, confusing them. The words mean the same thing, so people never get it. It’s stupid, but we like it.

Cole rolls his blue eyes, wet from laughing, and huffs, but he can’t hide his grin, even though he’s trying, biting that full bottom lip of his, fuller than his upper lip.

It’s fucking hard not to drag my eyes to it.

I itch to kiss it. To tug it between my teeth.

But I don’t. I never do. “You suck! You always give in and say that. I can never beat you,” he whines .

“You will one day.”

God, I missed his voice.

We may not have been rich growing up, but for a few years, we had a good and loving family. Too good for me to ruin things by admitting my feelings for my stepbrother. Then one day, almost three years ago, after I’d turned nineteen, our good life came to a screeching halt and exploded around us.

A gentle touch on my arm had me turning around to face that beautifully empathetic face, with huge blue eyes that I could stare into forever.

‘Where did you go?’ he asked. He’d gotten so good at signing. He was a quick learner, since he was smart as hell. It took me longer to get the hang of it, but I could follow him most of the time when he wasn’t moving his hands and fingers a hundred miles a minute.

“Nowhere,” I said out loud as I leaned against the counter, folding my arms and sighing.

“That’s not true. Haven’t found a job yet, and…

” I close my eyes, wanting to fucking lose it just for once.

I wanted to yell, cry… anything to get out all that frustration.

Anything to let go of all that pressure building inside me.

“And we’re being evicted. We got ten days to get out. ”

I handed him the pink paper. He took it and read it before setting it on the counter. Instead of getting upset, Cole did what he always did. He tried to make me feel better, but it wouldn’t work. Not this time. I was beyond repair. There was no fixing this.

He pressed his forefingers and middle fingers together and against each other, almost like an ‘X’, and brought them close to his chest, and then he gave me a thumbs up and moved it in a circular motion. ‘Together. We’ll be okay together.’

I growled at him. “Won’t though. I’m runnin’ out of money, and soon we’ll lose our apartment along with all our shit we’ve collected over the past two years…

Even if I found work tomorrow, it won’t be enough to cover the fuckin’ rent and bills that’re due.

Say goodbye to your TV. Say hello to fuckin’ boredom and living in a car. ”