First rays of sunlight filtered through expensive blinds. Rose finally got out of bed. She'd been awake since dawn, her mind churning restlessly through the better part of the night. Staring at her bedroom ceiling, she couldn't stop replaying it. The weight of his body when he'd pulled her down. The way her body had responded, even as her mind screamed that this was wrong, that he was drunk, that she needed to get away. And the worst thing was that some part of her hadn't wanted to move.
What the hell is wrong with me?
She'd frozen. Just frozen there while he mumbled incoherent things, his body pressed against hers. The feel of his muscles against her hands when she'd tried to wake him. The heat that had pooled in her stomach when he'd whispered those words.
"You can have more." What did he mean by that?
The kitchen smelled of vanilla and coffee beans as she moved around the expansive space, her bare feet silent on the heated marble tiles. Noah's house was a monument to his success. 4,200 square feet of colonial grandeur. She'd grown to love the contradictions of it: Noah's love of physical books, and how they were stacked in every corner despite the built-in shelves, framed literary awards hanging slightly crooked on walls that cost more to paint than her entire wardrobe.
Rose cracked eggs into a bowl with more force than necessary, watching the yolks break and bleed into the whites. She felt contaminated by her own thoughts. Noah was her stepbrother. He'd been blackout drunk. And she'd lain there feeling things she had no right to feel.
The eggs sizzled when they hit the pan, the sound too loud in the quiet house. She added cream cheese and chives mechanically, the way her mother used to make them. Normal breakfast. Normal Saturday. Everything was fine.
Everything was not fine.
She'd felt this way before, this sick confusion between fear and arousal. In Barcelona, when Jonah had…
No. She wasn't thinking about Barcelona. That was different. Jonah had known what he was doing. Jonah had been sober and deliberate. She wasn't like Jonah. She wasn't a predator. She'd just... frozen. Made a mistake. Got confused. It was different.
Was it though?
The footsteps on the stairs made her jump so hard she nearly dropped the spatula. Noah shuffled into the kitchen, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles, and there were pillow creases pressed into his cheek. He still wore the worn t-shirt from last night, the one with the small hole near the left shoulder that he refused to throw away. It looked pretty funny against the backdrop of his designer kitchen.
"Morning." He mumbled, voice rough and gravelly as he dropped into one of the fancy leather chairs around the big dining table.
"Oh! Morning." Rose's voice came out too bright, too high. She forced it down to something approaching normal. Like she hadn't spent the entire night thinking about the way his hands had felt on her waist. "It's almost ten. You sleep okay?"
She slid a plate of scrambled eggs and toast across the polished table surface, not quite meeting his eyes.
Noah stretched his arms over his head. "Yeah, I slept like the dead. It's the waking-up part that sucks." She caught a glimpse of the toned muscles under his shirt, and she looked away quickly. "I feel like I got run over by a bus."
Rose let out a small laugh, relieved that he seemed normal, that there was no weirdness in his voice. "Here, eat something. Maybe it'll help with that hangover you look like you're nursing."
She'd made one of his favorite breakfasts, eggs scrambled with cream cheese and chives, the way her mother used to make them when they were younger.
Noah took a bite, then looked at her with that crooked half-smile that usually made her feel warm and safe. Today, it just made her stomach clench. "You know what? I'm really sorry about last night."
Rose's fork froze halfway to her mouth. The words hung in the air between them like smoke. "Last night?" Her voice came out higher than she intended. "What do you mean?"
Her mind was racing. Did he remember? Did he remember falling on top of her, the way his body had reacted to hers, the way she'd wanted to stay there forever?
Oh god, what if he remembered? What do I even say?
Noah leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his messy hair. "I mean, you were looking forward to our movie night, right? You made everything so special just for that. And then I go and pass out after one movie and a couple glasses of wine like I'm some middle-aged dad or something."
Rose felt her shoulders relax. Relief and disappointment crashed through her in equal measure. He didn't remember. Of course, he didn't remember; he'd been so drunk he could barely form sentences.
"Oh. That." Rose forced a laugh that sounded almost natural. "Seriously, don't worry about it. You were tired. It happens. Sometimes staying in is exactly what you need."
Noah raised an eyebrow, that sarcastic smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Right. I'm sure you'd rather be here making me breakfast than out at some party with people your own age."
He wasn't wrong. The old Rose would have been out until sunrise, coming home with glitter in her hair and stories she'd never tell anyone. But something had changed since she'd moved in with Noah.
Rose gave a hollow laugh, "Well, maybe I'm finally growing up. Or maybe I figured out that some of those parties weren't exactly great for me."
Or maybe I'm too fucked up to be around normal people anymore.
She took a bite of her eggs, which she couldn't taste. "So what's your plan for today?" She was changing the subject desperately. "Finally going to beat that novel into submission?"
Noah shook his head, poking at his breakfast with his fork. "Nah, still stuck. It's like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. But I do have some meetings lined up."
Rose latched onto the distraction gratefully. "Meetings? On a Saturday? Okay, Professor White, spill it. What kind of meetings does a famous author and part-time literature professor have on the weekend?"
Noah shifted in his chair. Rose raised an eyebrow, her psychology classes kicking in. She'd learned to read people, to notice the little signs that showed what they were really thinking, and she caught something in his expression, a flicker of nervousness, maybe guilt.
"Just some catch-up sessions with students. You know, gaining new perspectives for my writing. Research, basically."
Rose smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Students, huh? On a weekend? Noah, come on. You're not exactly the type to hold office hours at ten on a Saturday morning. What's really going on?"
He was lying. Or at least not telling the whole truth. She'd always been able to see through his bullshit, even when she was a kid.
Takes one to know one, I guess.
Noah chuckled, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. "Hey, don't give me that look. I already explained to you the real reason why I'm teaching in the first place. It's been great for getting new insights and experiences to fuel my writing. These meetings are just an extension of that. You're too young to be so suspicious all the time. Sometimes you need to get out of your own head, you know?"
Rose nodded, but unease prickled at the back of her neck. She was lying to him about last night and withholding much more. And he was lying to her about... something. When had they both become people who lied to each other?
"Yeah, I guess you're right. And I do think that it's pretty smart that you're using real-life experiences to inspire your fiction." She studied him over her coffee mug, noticing how he wasn't quite meeting her eyes. "So do you ever draw from... personal experiences? Like, really personal ones?"
The question hung between them, loaded with implications neither of them was sure how to address directly.
Noah looked at her for a long moment, and Rose felt suddenly exposed, like he could see right through her. "Sometimes," he said finally. "But don't worry, your secrets are safe with me." His voice took on a teasing tone. "I keep certain family moments locked away in the vault. After all, you had just turned nineteen. Back then, even I could have outdrunk you. Having too much wine at Christmas could happen to anyone..."
The blood drained from Rose's face, then flooded back in a rush of heat. "Oh, shut up! You know it wasn't like that. It was my first time drinking like that, and there was mistletoe..." She crossed her arms defensively, hating how young she sounded. "Besides, I thought we agreed never to speak of it again."
Noah laughed, the sound filling their kitchen. "Right, right. I must be getting old. What kiss? I have no idea what we're talking about right now."
Rose rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now. "Exactly. Something so traumatic would never happen. Now, hurry up and finish your breakfast. We both have a long day ahead of us."
God, why does everything I say sound like an innuendo when he looks at me like that?
Noah raised an eyebrow, a common expression that made her stomach flutter. "Oh? We do? What are your plans for today, Rosie?"
Rose caught the look and felt her cheeks heat up again. "Oh my god, nothing like that, you perv! I was thinking of heading to the CNJ library later. I need to catch up on some reading for my developmental psych class."
Noah grinned, making an exaggerated show of stretching. "Wow. You're actually going to study on a Saturday. In the library. Maybe you really have changed."
Rose grinned back, enjoying the familiar rhythm of their banter. "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't. You'll never know for sure, will you?" She paused, then added more seriously, "Anyway, what time are your meetings today? I might need to borrow a car later."
Noah waved his hand dismissively. "Don't even worry about it. I'm taking the Audi today. The BMW and the Tesla will still be in the garage. You know you don't have to ask."
It was true. Noah had done very well for himself. Tens of millions from novel royalties, the occasional freelance work, and the movie rights that had paid for this house. From what she knew, the teaching position at Princeton paid less than his royalty checks. It was just a cherry on top of his financial cake.
Rose felt a twinge of guilt, thinking about the night before, about the way her body had responded to his. She was living in his house, eating his food, driving his cars, all while having feelings that would mess everything up if he knew. "You know what? Maybe I should just take the bus today. There's one that connects to the campus shuttle."
Noah looked at her with genuine concern, setting down his fork. "Rose, what are you talking about? You know I don't mind you driving my cars. Hell, you're normally begging me to drive. Is something wrong?"
He's right. What am I doing? Since when do I turn down a Beemer for public transit?
Rose hesitated, debating whether to bring up what had happened. The rational part of her mind, the part that had studied psychology and family dynamics, told her to let it go. But the other part, the part that had been thinking about his words all night, needed to know where they stood.
"Look, about last night..." she started, then trailed off, unsure how to continue.
Noah leaned forward, his expression curious. "Yeah. What about it?"
Please don't remember…
Rose swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. "Well, after you passed out... when I came to check on you... things got a little... intense." She looked away, focusing on the small potted herbs on the windowsill that she'd been trying to keep alive. "I just wanted to make sure we were both okay with how things went down."
Noah's eyes widened, and she could see the worry creeping into his features. "' How things went down'? What are you talking about? Did I do something last night?"
Please remember… God, I don't know what I want
Rose took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well, you must have gotten up during the night because I found you on the couch. And when I tried to move you, we... fell." Her face burned as she remembered their compromising position, the way their bodies had fit together, the way he'd looked at her with desire in that moment before he'd fully woken up.
Noah's face went pale. "Oh my god. Rose, did I hurt you? Did I… Did I do something?"
Rose reached out instinctively, placing her hand on his arm. His skin was warm under her palm, and she had to fight the urge to let her fingers linger. "No, no! Nothing like that. You were mostly asleep the whole time. It just caught me off guard, that's all." She forced a smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt. "I promise, you didn't do anything wrong."
Except make me want things I shouldn't want.
Noah still looked concerned, his brow furrowed. "Are you sure? Because if I…"
"Noah, I'm sure." Rose interrupted gently. "But..." She hesitated, then forced herself to continue. "Do you remember saying anything strange? Like, when I was trying to wake you up?"
Noah blinked, looking confused. "I don't remember saying anything. Why? What did I say?"
Rose felt her face heat up again as she remembered the way he'd whispered those words in that sleep-roughened voice. "Well, you did mumble a bit when I was trying to wake you. Something about it..." She swallowed hard. "But you were so drunk, I couldn't quite make it out. Something about "'it feeling good'."
Noah's face went through several expressions. Confusion, realization, then deep embarrassment. "Oh. Oh, shit." He ran his hands through his hair, looking mortified. "Rose, I'm so sorry. That's just... You know, that's just a natural physical reaction when you're half-asleep and..." He was speaking faster now, clearly flustered. "You're attractive, and I must have been totally out of it..." His voice cut out mid-sentence as he realized what he'd said.
He thinks I'm attractive. He actually said it out loud.
Rose felt a confusing mix of emotions. Embarrassment, a flash of something that might have been hope, and the familiar urge to deflect with humor. "Careful, Noah. That sounded almost like a compliment."
Noah groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Jesus, I'm making this worse, aren't I?" He looked up at her through his fingers. "Of course it's a compliment. Of course, my stepsister is..." He dropped his hands, his expression becoming more sincere. "Look, we both know you're beautiful. That's just an objective fact. When our parents got married, everyone said we both came from good gene pools."
Rose felt touched by his sincerity, despite the awkwardness of the situation. "Thanks, Noah. And hey, maybe I'll forgive you if you manage to stay conscious past eleven next time."
Noah laughed, the sound breaking the last of the tension between them. "Ouch. Okay, I deserved that one." He stood up, running his hands through his hair. "We're okay, right? I mean, nothing weird happened, and we're good?"
Define weird. Define good.
Rose nodded, though she wasn't entirely sure what "okay" meant in this context. But still, she said, "Yes, we're okay. Just a little misunderstanding, that's all." She began clearing the dishes, grateful for something to do with her hands. "Now, why don't you go get ready for your mysterious student meetings? I'll clean up here and maybe hit the library later."
Noah nodded and headed toward his room. As he passed her, he ruffled her hair playfully, the gesture so familiar and brotherly that it made her chest ache. "Sounds good. I'll see you later, Rosie." He started toward the hallway, then paused. "And Rose? Take the car. It's easier to park on campus."
Rose watched him leave, her eyes tracing the familiar lines of his shoulders, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck. She began loading the dishwasher, lost in thought about their complicated relationship.
He called me beautiful. He said it was a natural reaction. What does that even mean?
Rose felt something crack inside her chest. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to tell him everything: about last night, about Barcelona, about why she'd really moved in here, about how she felt safe with him, about how confused and broken she felt.
Outside, she could hear the quiet hum of expensive cars, the distant sound of construction on another renovation, the practiced quiet of people who paid for the privilege of peace.
As she wiped down the granite countertops, Rose wondered where they would go from here. They'd been walking a tightrope for months now, ever since she'd moved in, pretending that the tension between them was just normal sibling stuff, just the complications of two adults sharing space. But last night had changed something, had brought whatever was simmering between them closer to the surface.
She dried her hands on the dish towel and looked out the window at the meticulously maintained street. Through other people's windows, she could see glimpses of other people's lives. A woman in designer workout clothes, a man reading on his tablet, a couple having what looked like an argument in their perfectly decorated living room.
Everyone had their own complicated relationships, their own secrets and desires they couldn't quite name, all hidden behind facades of success and respectability.
Rose sighed and headed toward her room to get ready for her day. She had reading to catch up on, papers to write, and a normal life to maintain. But as she walked down the hallway, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was running out of time. That eventually, the truth would come out. Either because she told it or because she couldn't keep all the pieces of herself together anymore.
And when that happened, everything would change.