Chapter 1 1 || The dare

“Okay. I’ve got one for you, Cathy.” My eyes narrow as Amelia says this. I already know what my answer will be—a big fucking no. “I dare you to walk over to that guy and kiss him.” I roll my eyes without looking in the direction she points, expecting the other girls on the table to laugh with me, back me up or stop her from trying to get me to embarrass myself. But nope, they do nothing but look on with amusement. No way. Amelia folds her arms, a perfect brow lifts as she waits for me to do something. She has got to be kidding, right? I look again, at one of my best friends but she returns the look with a smug smile. The consequences of befriending the school bitch, the geek and the artist. They come up with the worst dares for their beautiful and carefree friend. I grip the table with a groan, hoping and waiting for her to take back her words. Nothing. “Why him?” I ask. “Don’t know. Who wears sunglasses in a pub?” The other girls nod in agreement. I swear they will nod to anything Amelia says as long as it gets me to do the dare. I love them but right now, I hate them for not having my back. This is supposed to be a celebratory evening, not an embarrass-yourself-in-front-of-a-stranger night. I make a grand show of standing up and my miniskirt flares, hiking up to reveal my thighs. I tug it down and the girls laugh. The first question they asked before we left my house was if I would be okay in something as short as this, I said yes. Well, I lied. It didn’t look so short till I wore it. “I’m leaving, Amelia,” I grumble. She scoffs and my other two best friends brace their elbows on the table. “I’m leaving. Like, I’m just going to walk up to him and give him a big, fat kiss on his lips.” Rose laughs. Ugh. Fine. I will do it. Kissing a stranger shouldn’t—can’t be that bad. I spare a look at the guy and my legs tingle. Boy, oh boy. He is fine. Fine? I mean, he is hot. He has this whole bad boy thing going on with the tattoos. Tattoos cover his upper left arm. He raises his hand in that moment to brush his curly hair off his forehead and his biceps flex. It doesn’t help that he is wearing a tank top paired with ripped jeans. I can kiss him alright. Yep, I’ll kiss him. On an afterthought, I grab my ID from my purse and flip my friends off as they cheer me on to my doom. Amelia best get ready, she will be skinny dipping on our next semester school trip. Rose will be making out with Ryan—her secret admirer on the assembly ground and Taylor will be asking Lucien out. They aren’t the only ones who can pull off an absolutely brutal dare. I stop a few metres from the bar and let my hair down. The boys at school say it’s a sexy move so I take my time. Hot boy doesn’t look up from his drink. This might just be a bad idea. He stirs his drink with a straw, sets the glass on the counter without taking another sip. I open my mouth to speak but the words don’t come out. Usually, the boys always speak first when I approach them. Hot boy finally spares me a glance and my throat dries up. The three pairs of eyes staring at me increase my nervousness. “Hi,” I whisper. I clear my throat and try again. “Hi there, Stranger.” No response. “Hi?” Nothing? Alright then. I place a hand on his knee and his head snaps up. He pushes his sunglasses into his hair and I shrink under his icy stare. He has baby blue eyes that burn holes into me. I force the nerves out of my voice. This time, I keep my arms to myself when I say, “So here’s the deal, my friends dared me to kiss you.” That gets his undivided attention. I flash him a smile. I’ve been told I have a beautiful smile. A ghost of a grin flits across his face. That’s a good sign, yeah? It has to be. “Yep. They are watching us right now.” When his head tilts as if to search for them, I blurt out, “No. Don’t look.” He slides his sunglasses back on, hiding his charming eyes from me. “I’ll describe them. Just don’t look. Or, don’t make it obvious that you’re looking.” After he gives a curt nod, I continue, “The table at the far end. Three girls. One blonde. One brunette. One redhead.” At the mention of their different hair colours, his eyes lift to my pink hair. It was a last minute idea inspired by Nicki Minaj’s older album. Plus, it’s a new year, new semester and I now have a stepmom. Mister Stranger’s stare makes me uncomfortable so I ramble on to fill the awkward silence. “It was inspired by Pink Friday.”“By Nicki Minaj. She is a cool artist,” he says. “Right?” My chest sags under the weight of my relief. My best friends don’t share my opinions on Nicki, the biggest pop rapper ever according to me. “That lady doesn’t get enough credit.” All I get is a blank stare and my brain works harder to come up with words. “You’re not from around here.” He has an accent that’s not peculiar to the people of this town. And he’s still staring at me. “Am I right, mate?” I say as a half-joke. The stranger folds his arms, flexing his biceps and I swallow again. He notices my staring and his lips curl in a half-smile. “How old are you?”“Here.” I fish out my ID from my pocket and stretch it to him. He doesn’t collect it, not even a peek at it to know my name. “I’m nineteen.”“Nineteen?” Technically, nineteen is seventeen plus two years, so I can pass for a sweet nineteen. “Yes.” Hot boy pulls me closer to stand between his legs. A current shoots up my arm and I jerk in surprise. My body likes him. He slides an arm around my waist to keep me steady. My body thrums at his touch and I lean forward to get more. His hand slips into my shirt to caress my underboobs and I moan softly. I am not wearing a bra, only nipple pasties. We share a glance and he smiles at this realisation. “I can do you one better.” My body loves the sound of his voice, especially his hands feeling my boobs, his curious fingers inspecting the nipples pasties. Emboldened by him, I palm his bulge and he hisses out a moan. Boys are all the same. Horny as hell. “My room is right around the corner. Behind this bar.” He is right. There’s a motel I never paid attention to rounding the curve. “What say you?” The alarm bells in my head finally trip off. I extricate myself from him, leaving a foot distance between us. What if he’s a serial killer? “How old are you?”“Twenty-one,” he answers. A seventeen year old and a twenty-one year old isn’t the worst combo. “Your ID, please.”“No.” His hand reaches for me again and I swat it. He lets out a laugh. A sound as lovely as the rest of his seductive body. “You have to take my word for it, sweetheart.” One look at the girls and I nod. As far as I get my kiss. And I want a kiss from him for my sake, not theirs. “What’s your name?” Too late. I offered him my ID and he refused it. I place a finger on his lips. “No names, Stranger.” Two can play this game. He smirks. “My kiss.” He shakes his head. “I only kiss in private.” By now, the girls must be bored or tired. A kiss takes less than a minute and I already spent more than ten minutes here to no avail. There is no use returning to the table without getting the kiss. “Well, my friends don’t give a shit about your preferences,” I spit out. His smug smile is starting to annoy me. I’m not going into a stranger’s room because of a kiss even if he’s breathtakingly handsome. I place my hands on my hips and size him up. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” His lips brush mine. It happens so fast I don’t have time to process it. “Done.” Done? What the fuck was that? He winks. “Now run along, Stranger.” What a prick. “Fuck you.”“In my room? Yes.” Hot boy laughs alone to his bland joke. This time, the sound annoys me. On noticing my annoyance, his eyes soften. “I can give you a better kiss in private. I’m not a fan of PDA.” Without another word to him, I storm off.

Chapter 2 2 || Last chance

“That was super hot,” Rose, the redhead in our group says. She is the artist. “Go and do it again.”“No.” Jesus Christ. That guy is a sexy, pompous dickwad. “It wasn’t hot and I’ll not repeat it.”“Yes, it was,” Taylor, the brunette, supports. She is the geek among us and the smartest. I finish the rest of her chapman and her eyes narrow in fake anger. She ditched her glasses for contacts tonight and she keeps squinting. “But it wasn’t a real kiss.” To me, it was. Rose makes kissy faces at me. “I wanted to watch you two kiss. Muah. Muah.”“I think he likes you, Cathy,” Amelia says. It is her first time talking since I returned to the table. I ignore her. She set me up for this. “Don’t know. He wants me to follow him,” I say to no one and everyone. Rose hands me my bag. She is seated on my left. “His hotel is behind the pub.” Taylor retrieves her phone from her purse. For the next few seconds, she types on her phone while I nurse my empty glass. The stranger is still there, staring at me openly. Sexy asshole. “Yep,” Taylor says. She pushes her phone into my face to show me pictures of the hotel right behind this pub. “He didn’t lie. There’s one.” Good for him, I guess. Rose stirs her colourful drink with a straw. She looks up and I shake my head before she says a word. Because she can get away with staying out late doesn’t mean I can. My dad will kill me. “Are you going to go with him?” she asks. “Fuck you, Rose. Are you insane?” Rose laughs like that is not the craziest suggestion ever. I look around the table. Three pairs of eyes are staring at me in anticipation. “Jesus. He’s a stranger danger.”“So? A bad bitch will go with him. Nicki is a bad bitch,” Amelia says to provoke a reaction out of me. Fuck this girl because she’s right about that part. “It’s only a kiss. We will wait for you.” I push down the voice of reasoning in my head screaming at me to say no. There are four of us and just one of him. What’s the worst that can happen? Taylor nudges me with her knee. Rose bats her lashes and Amelia pouts. Only a kiss. “You will wait for me. Promise?”“Promise,” Amelia replies. “Your dad will kill us if we don’t have you home by 11 pm.” My dad is the principal so they know better than to mess with him when he has their future in his hands. “Just don’t go doing more than a kiss, okay?” We will see about that. Taylor strikes a conversation about Lucien, our school’s captain. She has been crushing on him since forever but hasn’t worked up the courage to ask him out. I tune them out as the hot stranger’s eyes find me. Even with his sunglasses, I feel his stare. He shoots to his feet and I grab my purse for lack of something to do. The stranger slaps a bill on the counter, says a few things to the bartender and starts for our table. The pub isn’t crowded tonight so all eyes turn to him. He’s sexy and he knows it, that’s why he actually slow-walks towards us like a model on the runway. Rose giggles when she notices who I’m staring at. “He’s hot, you have to admit,” she whispers. True. But I don’t have to admit it out loud. I avert my gaze when he stops at our table. His sunglasses are still intact and I have to wonder who in their right thinking mind wears a pair of sunglasses at night. And to a pub. Amelia tells the stranger something but my heart is beating too fast for me to make out their words. He replies. It must have been funny, the whole table laugh. Rose snorts. If she’s snorting, then he has to be really funny. I look up to his eyes that have been waiting for me to acknowledge him. “Hi,” I say. “Last chance,” he replies. Another look at the girls and they all give me an encouraging nod. I stand but I don’t move another inch. “How am I sure you won’t kill me?” He laughs. I hate that his laughter is as gorgeous as he is. Wait, can laughter be considered gorgeous? While he’s thinking up his reply, Amelia tilts her head to survey him. “You kind of look familiar.”“I get that a lot.”“Very familiar,” Amelia adds. “That too, I get it a lot.” Rose, Taylor and I share a glance. They shrug. No familiarity. We don’t see what Amelia is seeing. She is the oldest in our clique and we respect her a lot but we don’t see it. Mister Stranger’s gaze finds me again. “What do you say?”“You didn’t answer my question,” I mumble. “Amelia has my number,” he says. I dart her a glance and she nods. Just what did they discuss in the short time that I blanked out? He raises his phone and it rings with a familiar number flashing on the screen. “So?” I draw in a breath. He isn’t so bad or my best friends wouldn’t have agreed to this ludicrous idea. But what do a bunch of teenagers even know? I step out to stand beside him, keeping a tiny distance between us. “I’ll get her to you in one piece. Nice to meet you, girls.”“Nice to meet you, C,” they chorus. C? How long did they talk? I follow C outside the pub and the chill air hits us first. I snicker at our dresses. Very inappropriate for the weather. “What’s funny?” C asks. “We are not dressed for the occasion.”“Yeah?” He offers me his hand and I slip mine into it. It’s strangely nice. Tugging me forward, away from the pub, he says, “It’s this way.” I am quiet as we take a turn that leads into a path illuminated by the streetlights. The logo of his motel shines from the distance, working out the knots in my joints. I almost relax completely. He wasn’t lying. “Your best friends really wanted you to get a kiss, huh?”“I guess so.” Our footsteps echo in the dark. We are the only ones out on the street and I keep looking around us. C doesn’t do the same. We stop at the motel and he lets go of my hand for the first time. Not-so-strangely enough, I miss his body’s warmth. The receptionist barely glances up as we walk past the counter. C takes my hand again and leads me up the stairs. We continue in silence till we are at a door he opens within seconds. A switch goes off inside and light floods the room. C steps in before me and I follow behind, wary. Coming here sounded like a great idea at the bar. It always sounds like a great idea when you have had too much to drink. He stops in the middle of his room and grins. I force myself to reciprocate it. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he says. Some of the arrogance from the bar seems to have worn off. Same way the buzz from taking those diluted shots disappeared on the walk down here. His room is as normal as a hotel room should be and it’s neat. Neater than most guys’ rooms are. Mirror. Bed. Chair. Vanity. Everything is intact. C stalks towards me and I see the guitar leaning on the blue wall. Does he play? I almost ask but I swallow the urge. Just a kiss and I’ll be gone. “Alright. It’s time.” I force my eyes to his face and my breath leaves my lungs. The sunglasses are gone. There’s a cut on his eyebrow I didn’t notice earlier. I bounce on the heels of my feet as his eyes trail my body, stripping me with his gaze. For some reasons, it doesn’t irk me. I puff my chest to give him more to look at. “It’s time for my kiss.”“Right away? You don’t want to talk?”“Do you pick random girls from the pub, then ask them to follow you to your room to talk?”“No, this is my first.” C cocks his head, eyes taking in all of me like he can tell the secrets in my heart. My thighs clench. “What about you? Do you follow random guys from the bar to their room?”“My first too.” C drags a chair towards me and crumples to the floor, sitting cross-legged. I occupy the chair. “Your friends said I had twenty minutes.” C looks behind me to the old clock. “We have about fifteen minutes of that time left. So let’s talk about you.”“Me?” I point at my chest. C nods. His gaze dips to my arm and flicks back to my face. I drag my sleeves over my wrists. “No. Let’s talk about you.” C grins like he expected that remark from me. Clasping his hands under his jaw, his eyes flash with interest. “What do you want to know?”“What does your tattoo mean?”“Used to be in a band,” C says without thinking twice. That explains his guitar. “Was so excited to belong somewhere, I tattooed the name on my arm.” He rolls his shoulder for me to get a better look at it. I don’t see a name. I see a big rose, if that thing can be called a rose. “We separated so I had to use a bigger tattoo to cover it up. It looks cool, yeah? No one would know it’s a cover-up.” There’s a date under the rose lookalike. But I don’t ask him about it. “Yeah, it looks really cool.”“What about you?” He takes my left hand and pushes my sleeves up to reveal the tattoo on my wrist. I wear long sleeves to hide it because it’s a painful reminder from a foolish time. His thumb circles my wrist. “How did you get this?”“I’m not telling,” I reply. He only lifts a brow as I retract my hand to hide the tattoo of a semi colon on my wrist. “Um… how did you get the cut?” He touches the cut on his eyebrow to be sure what I’m talking about. I nod. “I’m not telling.” Against my wish, I smile. “You have a pretty smile, Miss Stranger.” I offer him a full blown smile. C takes my hand again, traces the outline of my tattoo. “You really should smile more often.”“Thanks, C?” He drops my hand and rises to his feet. I swallow tight when he pulls me up. He is taller. My palms become clammy. He closes the tiny gap between us, his fingers brush my cheek and a seed of nervousness germinates in my belly. His head lowers. His breath warms my face. I lick my lips. “C? Is that really your name?” A flick of his thumb against my pink lips and my heart skips a beat. “No names, remember?”“I… I do.” He steps away momentarily. “I’m about to kiss you, pretty stranger.” And I want him to. “You can say no and your friends will never know.” I bring his hands to cup my face. “Kiss me.”

Chapter 3 3 || Kissing a stranger

There are three things you must never do. One, kiss a stranger. Two, kiss a hot stranger. Three, kiss a hot stranger you might never see again. Why? Because if the hot stranger is a good kisser, you will never forget about it. And for the rest of your life, you will compare the kiss with others. I groan into the pillow and drag myself out of bed. C has ruined my life. I kissed Jackson on the first day of school but it was different. It didn’t feel like C’s soft lips. It wasn’t demanding and gentle. Hot and needy and delicate. It was just Jackson. I push down those thoughts once I’m in the bathroom. Amelia will start honking like a little angry bitch if she gets here and I’m not ready. I round up to the room for a change of clothes and finish off in front of the mirror. The dark roots of my hair contrast with the pink flowing down my shoulders. Dad hasn’t gotten over my new hair colour. Dani, my stepmom, thinks it’s cool. I think she’s cool. My phone vibrates on the vanity and I let out a groan. I’m not ready yet. I pick and Amelia murmurs, “I can’t make it to your house today.” I’m closer to her than the other two but we are all pretty close. Since I don’t have a car yet, thanks to my driving phobia, she is my ride to school. I hate riding with my dad. He asks too many questions. “Are you okay?”“Yeah,” Amelia replies. I sink into the chair and frown at my reflection in the mirror. My blue eyes are the colour of the sky after a heavy downpour. Right now, they don’t look as pretty as C’s. Fuck that guy anyway. “Just a little dizzy. My sister is staying home to babysit me.” Her elder sister is a nurse in training. They do nice, girly stuff together that I can’t relate to as an only child. Twirling a strand of my hair, I nod. “Take care.” A sound from outside catches my attention. I apply my eyeliner and rush to the window to check. Dad is coming up from the backyard with a dead rabbit. “Bye.”“Bye. Don’t have too much fun without me.” I’m still laughing after she ends the call. There is no real fun without Amelia. My head pokes out of my window. “Dad,” I scream. He waves. His shotgun swings from his shoulder. He is still in the business of going out to hunt in the wee hours of the morning. “Good morning.”“Morning, sweetie.” He stops below my window. My room is on the first floor. “You slept well?”“Yeah. You’ll be late.”“I’m the principal,” he answers. How did Dani fall in love with this local man? I close the curtains and return to the mirror. One last smack of my lips and I’m good to go. I’ll need to call Rose or just follow Dad to school. I jog down the flight of stairs with my books jiggling in my backpack and my feet falter on the last stair. Dani is not alone in the living room. She’s talking to someone seated on the couch. It’s not Dad, she never uses that patronising tone on him. I step down but none of them notices me. She’s obstructing my view of the person. Hands propped on her waist, back rigid, I feel bad for whoever she’s talking to. But that thought doesn’t stop me from heading to the kitchen to grab breakfast. I walk out of the kitchen with a jar of milk and a plate of pancakes. Dani is not in the living room but her guest is. His head is bowed over his phone but he isn’t pressing it. When I brush past his couch, he raises his head for the briefest second and… hold on a minute. I drop the plate on the dining table and walk right back to him. What the–? C crosses his legs at the ankles, throws his arms over the couch, the couch my dad bought after my mum’s death. His eyes glide over me in a slow, appreciative sweep and I grow conscious of my pink long-sleeved top paired with black jeans. I rub my hands over my eyes and look again. C is still here, staring at me with an arrogant smirk. I move towards him before my brain sends a signal to my feet. My hand lifts in an awkward wave. “Hi. What are you doing here?” His tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I am reminded of our kiss. I don’t know when C stands until he cups my jaw with one big palm. The warmth of his palm spreads through my face and my cheeks heat up. C is here. He’s real. “What are you…” He steals the rest of my words with a kiss, a painfully brief kiss and backs away. I release my breath when he sinks into the couch. My thoughts flood my mind in judgmental whispers. What’s wrong with me? Kissing a stranger in my house? A stranger that might as well have been stalking me. No. Dani seems to know him so he can’t be a stalker. I steal another look at the familiar stranger. Without his overgrown beards and bushy moustache, C looks different, new and younger. The cut on his eyebrow is also gone. Why did it take him so long to show up? Dani has been here for a month. If he had shown up when she did, I would never have kissed him. “What are you doing here?” I ask. C grins and a dimple appears on his left cheek. His beards must have hidden it. My knees lock, legs turn to jelly. He’s so hot it’s unfair. My eyes lower to his arms and I wish he was wearing the tank top from that night, not a shirt that hides his tattoo. I clasp my arms at my back when his gaze strays to me. “What do you think?” C teases. Dani bursts into the living room at that point, saving me from his intense stares. She draws me in for a hug that makes me smile. Dani is nice. Maybe that’s why Dad loves her. “Good morning, Cathy.” She holds me at arms length, following my curious gaze to the young man sitting on our couch like he owns the place and is about to kick us out. C’s eyes light up and I roll mine. Now, he knows my name and I don’t know his. “I see you met your brother.” God forbid. Brothers don’t kiss their sisters or leave them wanting for more of their kisses. That’s what C did to me. He crosses over to us and hugs Dani. She laughs when he places a sloppy kiss on her cheeks. There’s no trace of anger or annoyance to show she was scolding him earlier. “Cathy, meet Calum, your brother.” He’s not my brother. We are not related. To Calum, she says, “Calum, meet your sister. Be nice to her.” His nose flares. “Mum, I’m always nice.”“Hmm, true.” Dani sizes her son up and smacks him playfully on his head. She mentioned a son, her only child but she didn’t say he was an adult male, a sexy one at that. “Pete is upstairs. He will be joining us in a bit.” She giggles like a little girl at the mention of my dad’s name. Me and Calum share a look. I’m the first to look away. I don’t want him to be my brother. She grabs his hand. “He’s so excited to meet you.” Guess who isn’t excited to meet him? Me. Side by side, the resemblance between the two of them becomes obvious. Identical blue eyes. Dirty blonde hair. Dani keeps her hair short, a little longer than a bob while Calum’s hair curls over his forehead. He could pass as Dad’s son based on eyes colours. Thankfully, he’s not. He’s not my brother. “Where’s Amelia?” Dani directs at me. “She can’t make it today,” I answer, gaze still glued to the floor. Our carpet is pretty. “Is Dad ready? I might have to go with him.” Pushing me to the dining table, she says, “Yeah. He should be down in a minute. Finish up your breakfast so he will drop you off at school.”“School?” Calum asks. “Yeah, school. Carlton High. The best high school here within reasonable distance.” My heart shifts into overdrive. I school my face into a mask and pick the fork. Dani takes a seat at the head of the table. She’s not doing me a favour by freely giving Calum that information. “Her father is the principal” A pin-drop silence settles over us. I don’t dare to look at Calum but I feel his gaze on the back of my head. I dig into my pancake that has lost its taste, chugging more of the milk to push the meal down. Why did he have to show up today? Calum heaves my backpack out of the second seat. “Is this yours?” Tongue tied, I can only nod. He settles into the empty seat. His knee brushes mine and I grip the glass. I clench my teeth when he throws an arm around my seat. “I didn’t know you were in school, Cathy.” This is the first time he’s saying my name and it rolls off his tongue like the first part of a song. “You don’t look like you’re still in high school, sis.” Because by nineteen, most people are in college, not high school. I might have lied. “Really?” his mum cuts him off to defend me. I don’t want her to. She doesn’t understand what I did. “Weren’t you in high school at seventeen?” Dani adds a little too eagerly and I get the feeling she’s annoyed with her son. “Where would you prefer she was at this age? College?”“Wait a fucking minute, Cathy is seventeen?”“Calum,” his mum warns. His head slowly turns to me, the familiarity in his eyes disappears and a cold glint creeps into them. Chills race down my spine. The pancake goes down the wrong pipe and I erupt in a coughing fit. Calum jumps into action, rubbing soothing circles on my back till I calm down. “Sorry, sis,” he says in a tone as chilly as his smile. Fuck him. I’m not and will never be his sister. He produces a handkerchief from his pocket for me to wipe off the mess I made on the dining table. I accept it with a big, fake smile. “Thanks, bro.”

Chapter 4 4 || Not my brother

“What do you think about your new brother?” Dad asks once we are inside the car. He doesn’t start the car. I wish he would so we can be out of here and away from anything that reminds me of Calum. “Your brother seems cool.” The relief I’ve been feeling since we left the house melts away. I click my seatbelt into place and tuck my bag between my legs. “He’s not my brother.” All it takes is one stern look from my dad for me to say, “I don’t think anything about him. Can we just go already?” Dad’s hand reaching for the key in the ignition drops. My head hangs in shame. “Sorry, Dad.”“Sorry for what?”“For raising my voice at you.” Since that day, he has been so conscious. Both of us. We have to hold each other accountable. He doesn’t look away and I lift my gaze to blue eyes matching mine. I have naturally black hair while he has brown. Dad takes my hand, the one with the tattoo. His finger hovers above the semicolon tattoo but he doesn’t touch it. He knew when I got it. “I just want you two to get along, Catherine,” Dad says. My mum used to call me by my full name if it was super important and Dad took over after her death. I chew on my upper lip to avoid speaking. If Calum and I didn’t have history, I might not have a problem with being called his sister. But we kissed and I want to kiss him again. “You already get along well with Dani, it will be good to extend that niceness to her son. It will make both of us very happy.”“I’ll try.” In a blink, he’s hugging me. I hug him back and everything is forgotten. Or not. Calum rushes out of the house as Dad’s car backs out of the driveway, waving like someone trying to catch a bus on the move. Dad slows for him to meet up and I curse under my breath. I hate this boy—man. “Need a ride?” Dad asks once Calum is close to the car. Calum nods. The wind blows through his curly hair, scattering it all over his face. He flicks them out of his forehead, showing off his toned biceps. I bet that’s the reason he keeps his hair that long, so he can show off his muscled arm any chance he gets. “Yes, sir,” he replies, a little flustered. Dad laughs. “Pete or Dad will do just fine.” Oh, God. Please choose Pete. Calum looks at me, then back at Dad. “Pete will do just fine.” I offer him my first genuine smile since today but Calum doesn’t flinch. Calum might be mad about my lie but we both know he wouldn’t have kissed me if he knew my real age. I’m not even that young. In less than two years, I’ll be the nineteen year old girl he was excited to kiss. Dad says nothing but unlocks the backdoor for him. The car is silent for most part of the ride. Dad is usually chatty but I guess both of us don’t know how to handle the latest addition to our family. “How are you finding our small town?” Dad asks when we are at a traffic light. The town is not that small. “I’m guessing it’s not as boring as where you come from.” Calum shakes his head and a part of me wishes he will reply so I can hear his voice again. His voice is smooth with an underlying vibration only a singer would have. I know that because I sing too. I’m in the school’s choir. “When did you get into town?”“Two nights ago.” I dart him a glance. I actually kneel on the chair and look behind me to see the handsome face of the liar. Calum cocks his head as if daring me to counter him. I guess we are both liars. I settle into my seat but I still feel his gaze behind my head, even Dad’s. He’s curious. “Do you have something to say, Cat?”“My name is not Cat,” I snap. Dad gives me the look. I take in a breath. “Please don’t call me Cat. My name is Catherine. Cathy for short.”“Your sister prefers being called Cathy,” Dad chips in to save me. Calum mumbles something we don’t hear. “Do you have a nickname?”“No. Just Calum.” Just Calum. But he was C for that night. I smoothen the invisible creases on my jeans. Why did he lie? The light turns green and our car is finally on the move. I take out my phone and login to my other account to make a post on the Girls Code site. “Pete, is it common for girls around here to lie about their age?” Dad honks at a Toyota Camry trying to switch into our lane. I clench my fists. Calum won’t out me. He can’t out me. “Yeah. Met one?”“I think I might have. Said she was nineteen.” A lump clogs my throat. I cough into my hand, forehead pressed against the window to avoid meeting Dad’s gaze. To him, his daughter is a good girl who doesn’t hang around at pubs. “I think she lied about her age. She looked like your daughter, Catherine.” I detonate. I erupt in a coughing fit. Dad slows the car but I wave for him to continue driving. “Are you sure you are okay?” Dad asks. I nod feverishly. “We can stop for a bit if you don’t feel good.” His brows draw together in worry as he takes in my reddened face. I force a faux smile to my lips. “No, no need. I’m fine. Just peachy, Dad.” My smile must have convinced him. He kicks the car into drive and resumes his conversation with the slimy bastard at the backseat. I drum my fingers against the dashboard, trying and failing to tune them out as they talk about teenage girls wanting so desperately to act above their ages. “You should be careful of them,” Dad tells my stepbrother in a friendly voice. I hide my face in my palms. This is the slowest school ride ever. “We had a case like this once. She lied about her age and it almost got the dude into trouble.”“Didn’t hear about it,” Calum says. “It was wild.” Too wild. It was the talk of town for a long time and the news made it incredibly difficult for us to use our fake IDs at any pubs. The fifteen year old was at a club and she hooked up with a nineteen year old. Dad goes on with the story. “...he was lucky the policeman had already seen her ID earlier because the whole city was ready to nail him to the cross for statutory rape.”“That’s fucked up,” Calum murmurs. There’s a mix of sadness and anger in his voice and a pang of guilt hits me. I could have gotten him into trouble if he was caught, maybe that’s what he’s thinking. I slip my hands between my legs. “But it wasn’t the guy’s fault. How was he supposed to know?”“No idea,” Dad finishes. “But be careful. A lot of wayward girls are out in the street instead of getting a good education. Good God. It’s a pity all of that beauty and brain will go to waste.” I almost roll my eyes. Dad is such an old school. According to him, the only way is going by the rules, no exceptions. In my opinion, rules are meant to be broken once a few times in our lifetimes. A few seconds later, as the car is about to take a left turn, Calum says, “Here. This is my stop.” Dad slows at the curb and he gets out. His boyish grin is present. “Thanks for the ride.”“No need to thank me, son.” Dad needs to stop this immediately. Calum is not his son. He has only one child and that child is me. Calum is about to walk away when Dad stops him. “Son, whatever you do, stay away from Becky’s.” That’s the name of the pub we met. It’s owned by a rich, black woman none of us has met. They are the most relaxed about IDs and they serve really good cocktails. “They are the most notorious for letting kids in their bar.” Not true. Kids these days are just smarter. My fake ID looks so real and it wasn’t hard to get it. With a big, proud smile directed at me and an arm on my shoulder, Dad says, “Cathy knows better than to be on that side of town.”“Right? Thanks, Pete.” He gives us a mock bow, eyes locked on mine. “I’ll make sure to stay away from Becky’s and girls that lie about their age.”

Chapter 5 5 || Girls Code

The tall building of Carlton’s High stretches into the blue sky. Dad drives on to park his car, a smile on his lips as he tells me to have a good day. I walk up the stairs but the door opens before I reach it. Rose steps out first. Taylor is right on her heels. They flank me on each side, linking their hands through mine as we fall into step. “Amelia called us, she’s not coming today,” Rose says with a pout. “Who drove you?”“My dad.” They snicker. I elbow Rose in the rib but Taylor jumps out of my reach. I might have complained once or twice about my dad’s long talks during the rides to school. “It was not that bad.” As a matter of fact, it was going well until he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned showed up. Just the thought of him and the teasing kiss make my cheeks warm. What if Dani had stumbled in? “Next time, call me,” Rose says. I pout and she pinches my cheeks. “I’ll come pick you up, alright?”“Yeah, thanks.” The three of them might dare me to do the most ludicrous things but they are the best friends a girl could ever have. And I should tell them about him. “My stepbrother came in today,” I say as we cut into the hallway bursting with students. “This morning.” We stop at Taylor’s locker for her to get her books. Both of us have first period together. Then Rose and I have choir practise later. Rose leans on the other locker while Taylor retrieves her books. “Is he hot?” Rose asks. “Shut up,” I mumble. That’s not the reply I was expecting. They exchange a glance and grin. “Yeah, he’s hot,” Taylor comments. “Is he hot, hot or just hot?”“I’m leaving you two,” I reply, feet rooted to the ground. Rose slings an arm over my shoulder. I stare at her red toenails and sigh. “Yeah, he’s hot.”“Hot enough for a fling?”“How old is he?” Taylor asks instead. She’s more logical than the two wild urchins I have as my best friends. I shrug. “Is he hot enough for a fling?” There goes the logic. We resume the walk to my class. “I’m not having a fling with my brother.”“Stepbrother,” Rose corrects. “Yeah,” Taylor adds. “You can have a fling with your stepbrother since you’re basically not related. Think of it as two familiar strangers having fun.” Familiar strangers is a good way to describe what we are. “Let’s just talk about something else,” I say. We stop at the front of my class. Rose opens the door and I give her the look. She’s not getting another word about him from me. The class is not empty. Taylor and I settle into the backseat. Rose plops into a seat ahead of us. “Go away, Rosie.” The window rattles against its hinges, earning a look from three of us. The wind settles and the rattling stops. I take out my physics textbook. “But you haven’t answered us,” Rose says. They think because I have not had a boyfriend since my mother died that something must be wrong with me for my lack of a love life. As if. What’s the fun of dating anyone when they are going to die anyway? They should be more like me. Kiss, fuck, go to the pub and have fun. No commitments. Because life will be meaningless for a long time after their partners leave or die. “Yes, he is,” I murmur. I flip to the next page of my textbook without reading it. He’s hot and should be shown off to the world. “But I’m not having a fling with him. End of discussion.” Rose’s eyes narrow and I imagine the wheels turning in her head. She twirls her hair around an index finger. “You should totally do him. He might turn out to be better than you think,” she says. I used to think Amelia was the worst of our girl group but Rose is just as dogged. Stubbornly cute. “You are not going to find anyone in this town.” Our town is a small but very peaceful one. Almost everyone in this part knows everyone and we are always in each other’s business. If a boy from this town could have gotten me out of this funk, it would have happened a while ago. Rose pinches me and I shake my head. Her idea is appealing and I don’t want it to be. He makes me feel, even if it’s just a rush of short-term excitement. “It’s not fair on my dad,” I finally say. Making a disgusted face, I add, “Dad sees him as his son.” Both of them agree with a nod. “Yeah,” Rose says. “We will have to find you another boyfriend. Wait, there’s Jackson. You have good chemistry, Cathy.” The door opens, saving me from her question. Mrs Preston, our physics teacher walks in. I shoo Rose off and she stops in front of the class to blow us a kiss. The whole class laughs. Even Mrs Preston. Taylor taps me when Mrs Preston isn’t looking. Her thick-rimmed glasses are back. She pushes it up the bridge of her nose and I glimpse her brown eyes laced with worry for me. “Are you alright?”“Yeah.” For the rest of the class, we don’t talk again. When it’s time for lunch, Rose joins us. She taps rapidly on her phone and Taylor has to keep calling out warnings to her so she doesn’t hit the wall. She finally looks up when we are in the cafeteria. We join the queue and pick up our trays. Taylor doesn’t. She always brings lunch from home. “Someone posted on our page this morning,” Rose says. “Waow. Her post is getting lots of attention.” We run a website. Girls Code. All four of us. It was my idea and Taylor brought it to life. Rose and Amelia shared it on their Instaagram pages and we got our first subscribers after their advertisement. Girls Code has been up and running ever since. It’s like a gossip and rant site for girls. They post all types of stories. Boyfriends tales. Family stories. Rose passes us her phone to take a peek at the post by Nikki Stan. My pulse races and I hold my breath. I eye both of them to know if they can tell it’s me since I support Nikki more than anyone they know. Taylor is too engrossed reading the comments under the post to notice me staring at her. I can’t be the only one among us four who has an anonymous account to post stuff we can’t ask each other. Girls Code is like my online adviser. She drops the phone on Rose’s hand. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Act like it never happened, I guess. Or jump off a cliff or pack out of the house,” Taylor murmurs. Rose snorts. The last and first option are more like her, not me. I didn’t do anything wrong but lie about my age. Girls here do it all the time. “What will you do if you find out the guy you kissed at a bar last night is your stepbrother? That was the question I asked. But I edited a few details about the date so they wouldn’t connect it to me. I peek at Rose’s screen. There are more users commenting on the post and the majority of them are giving awful ideas like: Kiss him again. Why would I do that? But I can’t say the thought isn’t pleasing. “I think Krystal is right. It’s what I’ll probably do,” Rose says. She shows us Krystal’s comment. The only reasonable comment so far. “I’ll talk to him about it to avoid any awkwardness, then move on.” Talking about it doesn’t seem like a bad idea. I try to picture a scene with us talking about that night but all scenes end with him walking out on me. He didn’t look so happy to know my real age. The line cuts to our turn and we make our orders. Rose is still talking about the post when we get to our table. I’m ready to move on from it so I start a conversation about the national open singing competition that will be starting next month. “We are going to win it this year,” Rose says. She holds her fist to her chest. “I can feel it.” Rose and I are both in the school’s choir. Taylor has a sweet talking voice but her singing voice is horrible. She sounds like a dying cat dragged through a dark alley. And that’s me being nice. I’m not as enthusiastic as I was last year about the competition. But I don’t show it. “Yes. We will win,” I say more to myself. “We have to.” A warning bell rings to remind us of the next class and all three of us shuffle out for lecture. When the last bell goes off, I am ready to see the face of Mr Prescott’s, our music teacher and choir director. Taylor doesn’t wait for us. Rose and I head inside the music hall, where students are camped on the stage according to their capabilities. We are a bit late, maybe more than a bit late but it’s the first week of practice so Mr Prescott won’t scold us. Opening the door, we are greeted by the angelic voices singing the first stanza of a familiar song. A smile forms on my lips and my worries melt away. Music is life. My life. We cover the rest of the distance and stop behind Mr Prescott. He is unusually tall and lean today. Why is he wearing a face cap? He lifts his wand and the voices lower to a whisper. Rose taps me. She points to our music teacher. I see it too. He is dressed differently than his usual conservative self. The singing stops and Mr Prescott turns to us. Oh, shit. It’s not Mr Prescott. It’s him.

Chapter 6 6 || Out

“You’re late. Both of you,” Calum murmurs. His expression doesn’t crack as his gaze rakes over us. I’m newly reminded of his handsomeness and a blush rises to my cheeks. It’s unfair to be tortured this way. What’s he doing here? Rose grabs my hand. Calum’s head jerks up. “Excuse me?” Did I say that out loud? “Yes, you did,” Rose whispers. Her cheeks redden with second-hand embarrassment. Body flush against mine, she asks, “Do you have a death wish?” Calum watches our interaction for a bit. Feeling the annoyance rolling off him, I lace my fingers behind my back. “Are you done, both of you?” He keeps saying both of you but I think he means only me. “Yes, sir.” Sir feels so wrong coming from me but I’m not sure how to address him. And the main question still remains, what’s he doing here? Rose pokes me. “We’re sorry we are late. Sir,” I add. “It must not repeat itself again.”“Yes, sir,” we chorus. “Join them.” Finding a spot should have been easy but our positions have been occupied. In the end, we have to stand behind the alto singers. Because we are both tall and the choir stand is elevated according to our voices, we can easily see above the heads of the other choristers and Calum’s annoyed expression. The singing doesn’t resume. Calum asks a girl in the front row to pass us the music sheet. My eyes skim the page and I sing under my breath to familiarise myself with the lyrics. Rose looks up and we grin. She was also doing the same. “Like Mr Prescott said earlier before those two arrived,” Calum says. A few of the choristers snicker. It’s not our fault he got here too early. Mr Prescott is always late by five minutes. “I’ll be helping him prepare you guys for the national open singing competition.” Holding up the sheet, his eyes move slowly over each of us to pass his point. “We’ll begin practising these songs today.”“You didn’t tell us your name,” Rose blurts out. I facepalm. She leans in to whisper, “He’s hot.”“The name is Calum Dissick. Mr Dissick,” he says. Murmurs break out in the group, Calum claps and the chatter transforms to whispers. Rose tightens her grip on my hand. A glance at her and I know she’s a goner for Calum. She’s not the only female already crushing on him and I can’t blame them. Calum is the type of teacher every teenage girl dreams of having in class. If he wasn’t my jackass stepbrother, I might also have a crush on him. “Remember him?” I ask. “Err... nope,” Rose replies in the same whisper. Seconds pass and she doesn’t laugh or tickle me as is her style if she were joking. She really doesn’t recognise him. Granted, without the overgrown beards and aviator sunglasses, Calum looks like a whole new, older person but she should be able to tell. Then again, I’m the one who spent more time with him. More time kissing him more than once. “He’s my stepbrother.” Rose shrieks. She lets out a loud fucking noise and all heads turn to us. Great. I feel the stares of the remaining fifteen choristers but my gaze remains on the wooden block. “No side talks, please,” Calum states at last. “Does everyone have their sheets?” A chorus of ‘Yes’ fills the room, then a calm takes over. “We can start.” And so we do. The alto girls open the opera. Rose doesn’t say another word to me, not that I give her a chance. Our voice carries on to the heavens and a corner of my lips lifts. I pretend Mum is watching me from the empty seats in the audience so I sing harder and better. We are on the third stanza when Calum cuts us off. His face gives nothing away. He asks Christie to step forward. Christie is a soprano like me but I have a higher range. Christie stops beside him. Her glasses hang on her nose like a second thought and she slides it up to keep it from falling. Calum points out a line on the music sheet and she nods again. “You’ll take this first part,” he says. Snapping his fingers, he starts singing the first line and my heart does a weird, happy dance. I close my eyes and the melody washes over me. If I didn’t understand why Mr Prescott handed over the choir to him, now, I do. Calum’s voice is like melted butter. Smooth and slippery, seeping into the cracks inside my heart. Calum stops and the joy his singing brought to my soul burns out. “Here, you try it,” he says in a voice missing the annoyance he used when speaking to me and Rose. Christie’s hand holding the sheet shakes a little. Calum touches her shoulder and a red ball of anger curls my gut. He wasn’t this nice to me. Well, I kind of deserved it. “Take your time. No rush.” My hand shoots up. “I can try, sir.”“Thanks. But let’s give Christie a chance.” Maybe it’s my imagination but he smirked right after saying that. I hate him. I fucking hate him. Rose tries not to laugh like the good friend she is but a peal of muffled laughter escapes her. I stomp on her foot and it ends the laughter. We return our focus to a shy Christie. She’s never this nervous to sing in front of an audience. It takes forever but she finally musters the courage to sing. Putting her brown hair in a bun, Christie takes a breath and belts out the lyrics of Puccini’s Nessun Dorma in a soothing voice. Calum stands at a side of the stage, head bobbing in approval. No shade to Christie but I can do it much better. It’s why Mr Prescott always has me take the solo parts. She’s awarded with a smile after singing. Calum eyes roam the stand. “Who else wants to try?” A few hands raise. I raise both hands. “I bet you ten quid he won’t call you,” Rose says. I glare at her. “I’m just saying.” She joins the others raising their hands and gets picked. “See what I mean?”“I want to try,” I say when the hall falls quiet. Rose’s footsteps falter. I mouth an apology to her and she shrugs. Bridging the gap, I pause at the front row. Face set in a mask of innocence, I say to my stepbrother, “Please, can I have a go at it?” He stares at me like I’m a pesky fly he can’t wait to be rid of. “Your friend is about to do that.” Rose’s gaze darts between the two of us, she points to herself and says, “Me? Na, I’m good.” I’m going to buy her a car, a new set of drawing brushes and painting oils. “Sir, let Cathy try if she wants to.” Calum loses his composure. He stalks towards us with a tight smile. “That’s not how this works.”“But I raised my hand first,” I say to support her point. “And Rose doesn’t mind if I go first.” My fingers drum against my lap. Our eyes lock in a battle. I look away first. He is being irrational. We can settle our disputes outside here or later. He walks back to the front of the stage. I offer him a smile and all he has to say is, “I didn’t see that.”“Liar.” Calum ignores me. Rose tries to drag me to the back row but I don’t budge. I raise my hand for him to see me but he goes on to call another person. “What’s your name?” he asks. “Regina,” she answers from the middle row. I loathe Regina. The feeling is mutual. “Please, step forward.” Regina winks at me and I see red. That tight ball of anger unfurls inside me and I storm to the front. I jut out a finger at Calum without saying a word. He eyes me from top to bottom and my self control shatters. I match his gaze with the same intensity. “Really?” I scream in my stepbrother’s face. I can hear the whispers. I can almost see the captions of tomorrow’s gossip but I’m too upset to care. “We–” I stop myself before I spill it. “Grow up already.” Calum cocks his head. The iciness of his glare sends shivers down my spine. I can’t win this fight but it’s too late to back down. He started it. “Out.” He points to the door and my anger slowly evaporates. He’s joking, right? The first round of the competition is by the end of next month and we are already halfway into January. “You’re done here, Catherine. For the rest of this session.” A/N: The song used in this chapter can be found on my social media. I*a: maramarthaa. Face book: Maramartha