Page 3

Troy

R achel led Adrian upstairs, her manicured nails trailing over his wrist, her hips swaying like she was putting on a show, which she probably was. The girl was a gold digger, and with trust funds as large as ours, it made sense why she’d zero in on Adrian. I shook my head and took a sip of my beer.

Rachel wasn’t nice. But then again, neither was Adrian. To be fair, I wasn’t nice and Amanda sure as fuck wasn’t. Maybe that’s why things worked out the way they did. Misery loved company and all that.

Still, something about the detached way he followed her made my stomach twist. He didn’t look like a guy chasing after a good time. He looked like a man walking toward a distraction as if he were forcing himself to feel something.

I exhaled and turned back to Amanda.

She leaned into my side, her fingers tracing idle patterns on my arm. “You’re zoning out again.”

I gave her a tight smile. “Just thinking.”

Amanda sighed, pressing herself closer. “You’re a senior now, babe. You should be celebrating, not overthinking everything.”

She was right. This was supposed to be the year where I wrapped things up, made my final connections, and secured my future. It was supposed to feel like the right next step.

Kind of like proposing to Amanda.

It made sense. We’d been together for almost two years, and she’d been hinting at it for months. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not so subtly—which often led to fights when I dodged the subject too many times.

I’d given in and finally asked her a few weeks ago.

It was logical. It was expected.

So, why did I feel like my life was suddenly on a track I didn’t choose?

Before I could dwell on it, a name drifted through the noise of the party.

Elena.

My head snapped toward the group of guys a few feet away. I recognized them—mostly guys from the lacrosse team and a few from my classes.

“…dude, I’m telling you, she’s got the perfect ass. Like, perfect .”

“She’s got tits to match,” another guy added, grinning. “Bet she’s a fucking tease, though.”

“Nah, bet she’s got no bodies. Probably a virgin.” The third guy grinned like he even had a fucking chance with her.

The first guy laughed. “Shit, maybe we should help her fix that. Imagine holding her down as she begged for it. Fuck, man…”

Something snapped inside me.

I was moving before I could think, shoving the guy closest to me back. His beer sloshed over his hand, his eyes going wide. I wasn’t this guy. I wasn’t aggressive. That was Adrian. I just liked having fun and a good time. But hearing Elena being talked about like that threw me for a loop.

“Knock it the fuck off,” I snarled, voice low.

“Whoa, dude,” the guy stammered, hands raised. “We were just messing around?—”

“She’s my sister.”

The words felt foreign, like a lie I barely believed in myself.

The guys all looked at each other, immediately backtracking. “Shit, man, we forgot. Sorry, Troy.”

I clenched my jaw. “Just watch your mouth.”

They muttered apologies and turned back to their drinks, and I felt Amanda’s sharp gaze on me before she even spoke.

“Troy, seriously?” She crossed her arms, her voice dipping into that tone she used when she thought I was being an idiot. “Why do you care what some guys say? They talk like that about every girl.”

“She’s my stepsister,” I corrected, still feeling the heat of anger in my chest.

Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “Right. But why did that get to you? She doesn’t even act like she gives a shit about you.”

I had no answer.

And that only made her push further.

“You don’t even like her,” she pressed. “She doesn’t talk to you. She doesn’t talk to anyone. So what’s your deal?”

I took a deep breath, forcing my temper down. “They were being assholes. I don’t like it.”

Amanda shook her head, clearly not satisfied. “No, I think you don’t like it because it was about Elena.”

I scowled. “You’re reading too much into this.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

The conversation was already grating on me. I didn’t want to talk about Elena. I didn’t want to think about her. I wanted to drink my beer, keep Amanda happy, and make it through this fucking weekend.

“Can we not do this here?” I muttered. Tonight was supposed to be fun. Carefree. I was supposed to be drinking, laughing, and doing my party thing. I could tell it was going to spiral really fast.

Amanda exhaled loudly and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the stairs. “Fine. But we’re talking about this.”

Fucking hell.

We barely made it into the bedroom before Amanda spun to face me, crossing her arms.

“Why are we keeping our engagement a secret?” she asked.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Amanda, not this again. Seriously. What are you doing? ”

“Yes, this again.” Her voice rose. “It’s a simple question, Troy. Why haven’t we told anyone?”

I sighed, leaning back against the dresser. She’d come out of left field with this shit. It was happening almost daily now. She wanted to announce our engagement. I wanted to keep it under wraps. “We will. I just?—”

“Just what?”

I don’t know.

The answer sat in my chest like a weight, but I didn’t say it. Instead, I gave her some excuse—about wanting the right timing, finishing school first, and not wanting to make a big deal out of it.

She saw right through it. She did every time I tried to give an excuse. The fact we were here, in this moment, fucking arguing about it again was only making me feel worse.

Amanda crossed her arms. “You were staring at her earlier.”

I blinked. “What? Who?”

“In the student lounge. I saw you looking at Elena.”

I scoffed. “I was looking at Adrian.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Sure. Because Adrian is so fucking interesting.”

I clenched my jaw. “I wasn’t looking at her, Amanda.”

“Then why did you react like that downstairs?”

“I already told you. They were talking like assholes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Or maybe you didn’t like hearing guys talk about her like that because you like her.”

I rubbed my temples, the whole conversation turning into mush inside my head. She often liked to rag on Elena. Tried to get me to react. Tried to fucking fight about shit we shouldn’t be fighting over.

“Just relax.” I exhaled. “We’re here to have a good night. Elena is my fucking stepsister, Amanda. Don’t say stupid shit.”

Amanda let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Have a good night while my fiancé keeps secrets and gets weird about his stepsister. It doesn’t matter if she’s your stepsister. I know what I saw.”

I straightened, my patience fraying. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s not like that. You fucking know it’s not.”

“Am I blowing it out of proportion? ”

“Yes.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I knew she was on the verge of storming out.

Good. I was done with this conversation. I was sick of having the same goddamn fight day after day. If it wasn’t about our engagement, it was about Elena. I didn’t see Elena enough for her to be a topic, but Amanda sure liked to make her one. I told her on repeat I didn’t fucking choose Elena to be my sister. It wasn’t like I wanted it. What I wanted was what Adrian wanted. My fucking family together and whole. Not my mom skirting off with some prick she met at her gardening club, leaving me to help Dad raise Adrian. Adrian never knew why our mom left. Dad thought it best he didn’t know. But fuck, Adrian held onto the same hope I had that Mom would come back. Instead, we got Lacey and Elena.

“Enjoy your night, Troy.” She grabbed the doorknob. “I hope you finally figure out what the hell you actually want.”

Then she was gone, the door slamming behind her.

I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face.

Fuck.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, unlocking it out of habit. My thumb hovered over my messages but drifted to Elena’s social media instead.

Her page was like a reflection of her—quiet. Nothing fancy. No outlandish look at me posts. Nothing with barely-there outfits and thirst traps. Books. School. Ballet. A few pictures of animals.

I scrolled mindlessly, and a few of her posts made me almost smile.

Then I caught myself.

And I hated it.

What the fuck was I doing?

I scowled, navigating away from her profile, and darkened my screen.

I needed to get my head on straight.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, no matter how much I told myself that, I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.

It hadn’t been for a long time .

And, like always, there wasn’t shit I could do about it but get through it. So I put on my happy face and returned to the party, drinking until I passed out in a puddle of my own vomit.

It beat the urge to call Elena to ensure she was OK.

Not Amanda.

Fucking Elena.

And I hated that feeling.