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  All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.

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  STEPBROTHER UNTOUCHABLE

  by Colleen Masters

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  CHAPTER ONE

  I bounce from foot to foot as I try my mom's cell phone one more time. I'm practically bursting at the seams wanting to tell her my good news, and she's not answering. I hang up the call as it goes to her voicemail again. She's been a little more unreachable ever since she started dating this new mystery man. She'll have to break down and tell me about him soon—we've never been able to keep secrets from one another for long.

  I give up and hold down the number 2 button on my old flip-phone to auto-dial my best friend Allison. Thankfully, she picks up.

  “I got it! I got a Lawn Room!” I shriek as soon as she answers, my excitement overflowing into a wild jig around my tiny dorm room. Allison screams on the other end in response—she knows what a huge deal this is for me.

  There are only fifty-four Lawn Rooms at the University of Virginia, where I'm just finishing my junior year. They were a central part of Thomas Jefferson's design for the school, and spread out under white columns from his famous Rotunda. They might be small and drafty, but living in one is a high honor. There's a rigorous application process, and they are given to only the most academically-deserving rising seniors. I worked my nerdy butt off in preparation for this moment, and I can barely believe it's actually happening.

  “Wait, wait, I'm putting you on speaker. Miriam's here, too,” Allison says when she finally takes a breath. Miriam is the third member of our little group that I met freshman year, and has both supported me and sheltered me through the first three years of college.

  “Brynn, I'm so proud of you! I mean, think of how many hundreds and hundreds of hours you worked for this moment!” she gushes.

  I laugh. “Don't remind me!” I wince, thinking of how much of college life I've missed while huddled in the back stacks of the library. Not that Miriam and Allison are academic slouches either, far from it, all three of us could probably draw you a map of the library from memory.

  “And if it gets too cold in the winter, you can always come crash with us,” Allison adds. She and Miriam have been roommates since sophomore year, and will be again next year. They've always invited me to apply for housing with them, but after freshman year, I decided I was too much of an introvert for roommates.

  “The fireplace is probably the best and worst part of the whole thing,” I laugh. The Lawn rooms have almost no trappings of the modern world, so in the winter all you have to keep yourself warm is your own personal fireplace. It sounds romantic now, but come next January, I imagine I might feel differently.

  “Are you working tonight? Or can we celebrate?” Miriam asks. I work in the cafeteria as part of my work-study program to offset the cost of my tuition. “Maybe we could go to dinner together, then see a movie?”

  “Well, I'm not working,” I admit, guilt already bubbling up from my stomach, “but I was thinking I might go out with these girls from my Poli-Sci class.”

  There's a short silence before Allison speaks. “Oh, cool…Sounds fun. What are you guys going to do?”

  “Um, they invited me to this party at the crew house,” I say, beginning to tug on the ends of my dark blonde hair—a nervous habit that only really gets out of control during finals.

  “The crew house!?” Allison exclaims, and I can't help but roll my eyes at her theatrics. “Brynn, you know as well as we do that those parties get insane! I heard that last semester NINE of their varsity members got alcohol poisoning in one night!”

  “Well, there are only eight on a team, so I think that might be an exaggeration,” I murmur. “Though I suppose maybe an alternate—”

  “Brynn, the point is, those parties are notoriously crazy,” Miriam cuts in.

  “I just want to see for myself,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “I'll call you guys tomorrow morning.”

  “OK…” Allison says warily.

  “Bye!” I say quickly, before Miriam can renew her argument, and hang up.

  As wonderful as my two best friends are, I do get tired of how uptight they can be sometimes. Not that I don't understand where it comes from. The three of us weren't exactly popular during high school, and when we found each other during our freshman year orientation, it was such an amazing relief to be with like-minded girls. We were all serious students, driven, with a penchant for fantasy books that might star Viggo Mortensen in the movie adaption.

  But now, I'm beginning to chafe at the boundaries of our friendship. Particularly when it comes to going out to parties, and boys. On my early morning trips to the library, I see girls doing the walk of shame across campus, their makeup smeared across their faces, hair rumpled, and first I feel pity, and then intense jealousy. That post-sex glazed over look…if I’m honest with myself, I want that too.

  And I promised myself that if I got my Lawn Room, I'd go to a party. A real college party. The kind Miriam and Allison roll their eyes at as they wonder how many brain cells its attendees are killing by the second. This crew party is the perfect opportunity. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it remains a possibility that I might actually get to talk to Nate Thornhill tonight.

  Just the thought of his name is enough to send tingles down my spine, though I know the real-life man could probably never live up to the fantasy I've built up in my mind. I still remember the first time I saw him, walking across campus the second weekend of fall semester of freshman year. I would’ve bet my life then that he was a senior. Compared to the boys
I had just left behind in high school, he was already a full-grown man. He wore a navy blue polo like it was a second skin as he strode across the grass, Jefferson's Palladian architecture spread out behind him like it was built as a set for a movie he was starring in. He wore his wavy brown hair on the long side, and pushed back to keep it out of his dark blue eyes. His nose was perfectly straight and ended over a pair of soft, full lips and a chin with an actual dimple in it. If it were possible for Ryan Gosling and a Kennedy to have a baby, the result would be Nate Thornhill.

  I later learned that he was a double major like me, and since one of mine is Political Science and one of his is History, we overlapped in a few of our core courses. I expected him to sit in the back with the rest of the jocks but he was always in the front row, quick to raise his hand with intelligent answers. I always hide right in the center of the halls; my shyness overwhelms me in those big lecture classes. I’ve never got up the courage to actually talk to him, and besides, he always has a different girl on his arm. With his looks, money, and being a star of both the lacrosse and crew teams, he draws women in like a magnet.

  But tonight? Tonight I have promised myself that if he's at the party, I am going to introduce myself.

  I shoot off a quick text to Cara, my new friend from class, to confirm that I'll join her tonight, and then turn to my closet. I really only have one option to wear tonight: a simple, slinky black camisole with a lace inlay that I bought at the mall in spite of Miriam and Allison's naysaying. I didn't know what I was buying it for then, but it's the kind of shirt I've seen other girls wearing to parties. I slip on jeans and a pair of heels that are probably a little low to be cool, but they'll have to do. It's not like I have extra money to be adding to my wardrobe.

  I take out the drug store makeup that I bought and sit at my desk. I never usually wear anything but Chapstick, but I watched some YouTube tutorials and feel confident I can mimic some of the techniques. With a compact mirror, I carefully put on a little concealer, blush, brown eye shadow, and black mascara. I bought an eyeliner, but I don't use it. I think it's a little beyond my skills. With a swipe of some sparkly lip gloss, I'm done.

  I close the closet door and study myself in the full-length mirror. With a start, I recognize myself in the reflection. I turn my face side to side, searching for all its imperfections. With a little makeup on, my resemblance to my mom is more pronounced. Everyone always says she is beautiful, so maybe it’s possible that I might be pretty, too. The shirt is more low-cut than I remembered, and I touch my breasts self-consciously. I get my large C-cups from my mom also, but I've always kept them covered up. I see how men get distracted by them, like they're some tractor beam pulling them in.

  One more quick glance to check my mascara application, and I nod at myself, satisfied. It's been a long time coming, but I think I'm finally ready to party.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The spring night air is warm on my face as I walk across campus to meet Cara and her friends. I pass other students heading out for the night and feel happy to count myself among them. I go over my rules for myself as I near the crew house, which is just across the street from campus. No more than three drinks. No talking about classes. No weirdness around Nate Thornhill.

  “Brynn!” Cara yells from the opposite sidewalk. I wave as I head over. “I can't believe you got a Lawn Room! That's amazing!” I lean over to give her a hug. She's an effortlessly cool, petite brunette—the kind of girl that everyone considers to be their friend.

  “Thanks!”

  “Holy shit! You got a Lawn Room? Are you, like, a genius or something?” her friend Rachel asks, her jaw dropping.

  “I wish! Then all those papers would have taken me way less time to write,” I reply with a laugh.

  “Cara says you've never been to a crew party?” Marie, the knockout of the group, asks.

  “Nope…just never made my way over here I guess,” I reply, downplaying the situation.

  “Well, they have the best parties,” she assures me. “And the hottest guys.”

  “Lacrosse guys are hotter,” Rachel argues.

  “Of course, if you can always do both…” Marie murmurs, and they burst into laughter.

  “Hey, you look great, by the way,” Cara says to me as we walk up the front steps of the house. “Love that top.”

  “Thanks,” I say, trying not to glow. A couple guys chilling on the front porch greet the other girls by name, and I blush as I feel their eyes glance over me. I tug my hair self-consciously as one of them grins at me. Two girls hurry past us in the opposite direction. One leans over the railing as her friend barely manages to pull her hair back before she retches into the bushes.

  Lovely.

  Sweat and the scent of beer greets us as we walk inside. The lights are dim, barely illuminating the mass of people crowded into the main room, and I feel my heels sticking to the sticky floor.

  “Cara, the love of my life!” a tall, brawny guy says, sweeping her up into a hug. I recognize him from the crew team. Not that I've studied their roster photos or anything…

  “Oh, ha, ha,” Cara says, rolling her eyes, though something about the gleam in her eyes tells me she likes the guy.

  “Can I get you ladies a beer?” he asks, nodding to the keg behind him.

  “Yes, please,” Cara says. “Hey, Foster, this is my good friend Brynn. This is her first Crew party so treat her nice.”

  “I'm always nice!” Foster says indignantly, then bows in front of me and offers his hand. “M'lady,” he says, as I place my hand in his and raises it to his lips. Marie and Rachel giggle and then head over to another group as Foster hands them their beers. Cara and I follow Foster over to an old, mysteriously stained, couch in the corner. We weave around other scantily clad co-eds, and for the first time in my life, I feel like one of the cool kids.

  I perch nervously on the far left cushion as Cara sits next to me, with Foster on her other side. I slowly sip my beer as he whispers in her ear. I've had beer before, even gotten tipsy a few times with Allison and Miriam when we first turned twenty-one and tried out some wine bars. I just want to make sure I don't overdo it tonight and end up like that girl we passed on the way inside.

  “Where's Nate tonight?” My head whips around as I hear Cara ask Foster the question. My heart stops for a second. I have to admit I'll feel crushed if he's not even here.

  “He's somewhere around, probably getting crushed under a pile of chicks,” Foster rolls his eyes, and Cara laughs. I down half my beer. I can't believe how jealous it makes me feel, I've never even met the guy.

  Cara and Foster keep chatting, and though Cara makes an effort to include me, I'm feeling too nervous to contribute much to the conversation. By the time I finish my beer, I really have to pee.

  “Be right back,” I murmur to Cara, and go looking for the bathroom. I weave through the sweaty throng to a hallway along the stairs. I see a line of five girls outside of what I assume is the bathroom, and with a sigh, I step behind the last one. The door opens and a guy darts in front of the front girl.

  “Hey!” she protests.

  “Sorry! Emergency!” he cries, and shuts the door behind him. I lean back a little and glance up the stairs. There are several people hanging out on the landing, but it's definitely quieter up there, and I'm sure there's more than one bathroom in this place. Holding my legs close together, I turn around and hurry up the stairs.

  I bypass the first couple rooms with open doors and come to a couple closed ones. I can see a room at the end of the hall that looks like a lounge, with a pool table in the middle of the room. One of these two rooms must be the bathroom. I lean toward the nearest one and press my ear against it. I can't hear anything. I knock softly and wait for a reply, and when I don’t hear one, I slowly turn the knob and open the door. I gasp as it's pulled open and out of my grasp.

  My eyes fly up and immediately I realize that Nate is standing before me.

  “I…I…” I stammer. His pupils dilate as he stares a
t me in amusement. I let my gaze fall down his body. He's naked but for a pair of pale blue boxers. Good lord, his body is ridiculous. The line down between his six-pack looks like it was etched in stone. It's suddenly very difficult to breathe.

  “See anything you like?” he asks drily. I snap my gaze back up. A brown curl of hair hangs just over one of his eyes. I clear my throat as I try to think of something to say. I feel his eyes travelling over my body, my skin burning under his gaze as desire begins to pool in my stomach.

  “Oh, no, I was—”

  “You wanna join us?” he says, pulling the door open a little more. I glance over his shoulder and see a naked girl in bed covered in rumpled sheets.

  “Nate!” the girl says with a giggle, and pulls a sheet up over her breasts.

  “Come on. If I weren't already naked, I'd say you were undressing me with your eyes,” he says smugly to me. I feel my cheeks turn scarlet.

  “No, sorry,” I murmur, averting my eyes and rushing down the hall to the stairs as I hear the girl dissolve into laughter behind me. I run straight out of the front door and down the front steps before stopping on the sidewalk to process what’s just happened.

  Ugh, I'm such an idiot. I raise my hand to my mouth and wipe the back of my palm across my lips, smearing off my lip gloss. I don't belong at parties like this, and I certainly don't belong with Nate Thornhill. I've never been so embarrassed in my life…and how arrogant, asking me to join him and that girl as though I actually would?

  Hot tears build up behind my eyes and threaten to spill over. I had such high hopes for tonight, such high hopes for him. And he ended up being so gross.

  I pull my phone out of my wristlet and shoot off a quick text to Cara: Hey, just got a terrible headache. Headed back to my dorm. See you later!

  I head back across campus and to the safety of my dorm room. My phone buzzes and I pull it back out to see her response: Feel better!