Annabelle

I had never been more embarrassed of myself than ever. It was one thing to have wild dreams that my subconscious seems to conjure out of thin air–I found that somewhat normal. After all, Sigmund Freud did have some valid points on dreams providing a psychological insight based on what the unconscious conjures–but, wet dreams? Really? It truly baffled me that my mind and body was audacious enough to disregard all notions of propriety.

It was awkward enough to awaken with my fingers deeply wedged inside me, it was even more awkward and shameful that I had no choice but to leave the warmth and comfort of my bed to wash away all the incriminating evidence. I just hope that Ethan was already sound asleep and that Leo has returned home–it would be even worse if they caught me tip-toeing out of my bedroom, my soaked panties clutched in one hand with an evidently guilty expression on my face.

No, that would be the worst.

I got inside the bathroom without encountering any of my worst fears, pumping soap onto my underwear and scrubbing it under the hot water as vigorously as possible until I was finally satisfied that I had absolved all of my wicked wrongdoing down the drain. The pink panties were then twisted so tightly that my knuckles ached before I proceeded to shove it into the deepest part of the hamper under the sink, rearranging the heaps of dirty clothes over to make sure it was hidden perfectly.

I'll have to beat Ethan to laundry day, because there is no way in hell he is going to be seeing this shit, I thought to myself, glancing at the hamper with bleary eyes.

I nodded to myself at the mirror, somewhat appeased, and as I exited the bathroom, a loud thumping sound of feet raced above my head and down the stairs, as if someone was in a hurry.

Is that Ethan? What the hell is he doing up so late?

I hesitated for a moment, chewing on my inner cheek nervously before walking around casually to check into the living room. I told myself that there was no need to act guilty or suspicious, after all, it was just a dream, albeit a wild one, but still. I made a show of yawning dramatically as I rubbed my eyes, as if startled awakened from the sound. Much to my surprise, it was not Ethan who had come running down the stairs but Leo.

We blinked at each other as he froze on the last step, his hand clutched on the banister tightly as we stared at each other silently. His mouth flapped open and close as if trying to find the words but he looked so guilty that I almost felt bad for him.

"Leo?" I broke the silence tentatively, tilting my head to the side questioningly. "What are you still doing here?"

He blinked owlishly at me, a dark strand of hair flopping over his eyebrow as he lowered his head slightly. His voice quaked, as if he was nervous, his dark eyes flitting back and forth warily at my puzzled expression. Even from afar, without my glasses, his face seemed flushed and sweaty, and his body behavior was jittery and shaky, as if he had been caught in a suspicious act.

"Annabear," he began softly. "I didn't know you were awake."

"I woke up to go to the bathroom," I explained slowly, taking a step forward. "Why are you still here? I thought you went home?"

"I, uh, well, you see, Mr. Warren, I mean, your dad, I mean your step dad–" His words tumbled out uneasily and the longer I stared at him, the more flustered he became.

"I ordered an Uber for him, it didn't work out so I am dropping him off myself," Ethan announced from above me, peering over the banister with a cool expression on his face.

I glanced up at the sound of his smooth, unusually gritty voice, my pulse quickening as he made his way to the first floor, his radiant blue eyes raking sharply over my face. He reached over to me, patting my shoulder lightly, his eyes narrowing slightly when I flinched under his touch.

"I will be back home before you know it. You can go back to sleep, remember–it's still a weekday," he stated, dropping his hand quickly as he glanced pointedly at Leo. "Young man, this applies to you too. Your mother must be worried."

Leo nodded stiffly, gazing at me with furrowed brows as if he was trying to decipher the expression on my face. I gave him a nod but didn't make an effort to approach him, wrapping my arms across my torso instead.

"Ethan's right, it is late," I confirmed softly, offering him a small smile. "I'll see you tomorrow anyway, Leo. Have a good night."

Before he could answer, I turned on my heels and walked quickly back into my bedroom, releasing the breath that I had been holding ever since Ethan had patted my shoulder. My skin felt tingly and feverish and I plopped back on my bed, staring at my wall blankly.

There was no doubt about it.

I was crazy to think of Ethan, my freaking stepdad, that way. It was...abnormal, to say the least. But there was also something else I knew that I wasn't crazy thinking about–and it was that something had happened between my step dad and my boyfriend.

And I was determined to find out exactly what happened between them, even if it came at a cost.

⁂

"Good morning, Annabelle," Ethan said over his steaming mug of freshly-brewed coffee, his piercing blue eyes lifting from his phone to my face.

"Good morning," I muttered, barely glancing at him. I couldn't even bother to hide the morning grumpiness on my expression as I hovered by the dining table, unwilling to sit, yet unwilling to settle for small talk with him.

The fact that I had tossed and turned all night last night for multiple reasons was the main cause of my current testiness, and Ethan, with his appraising eyes, did not miss it one single detail at all.

"Some coffee?" He offered softly, raising his mug towards me. "I bought the Starbucks Hazelnut flavor for the Keurig machine like you had asked for." An appeasing smile flashed on his face as I stared at him blankly, my eyes moving to the tempting steaming cup of coffee to his cheerful expression.

Without thinking, I strode over and reached for his mug, a habit that we had established a few years ago because he admittedly did make the coffee the way I liked it, lifting it up to my lips. I could feel his eyes following my movements as I took a tentative sip, my mouth touching the rim that his mouth was on just a few seconds ago. Briefly, an image of his face between my legs flashed in my mind and I spat out the coffee immediately, feeling it dribble down my chin.

Before I could move, Ethan was already jumping up from his seat, a look of alarm on his face as he snatched the mug from me and a tissue from the table at the same time, dabbing liberally on my face before the droplets of coffee could stain my white button-down shirt.

"Are you okay? Was the coffee too hot for you?" He asked urgently, still patting my face with the tissue. His voice was soft with concern and I could feel my stomach twisting as he leaned forward, his thumb touching my chin as he peered down at me, his eyes flickering with concern.

"I-I'm f-f-fine," I stuttered, unable to contain my stammer, surprised by how close his face was to mine.

A brief scent of his shampoo and a light dab of rich, woodsy cologne wafted to my nose and he was close, almost too close for comfort, his thumb slowly rubbing my chin as if to assuage the burning sensation. Despite how close he was, I couldn't move an inch, not even when his eyes narrowed slowly down on my lips, which I started chewing on nervously.

"Are you sure you didn't get burned? I have some vaseline, maybe that would help–" He muttered, still assessing my lips in a clinical manner. It was embarrassing, to say the least, that he had effectively discombobulated me, and his close proximity did not help either.

"I'm f-fine," I repeated, jolting my chin from his hand, swiftly looking away before he could read my face. I shoved my glasses up the bridge of my nose as I put the much-needed distance between us, heading straight towards the door. Just as I swung the door open, I glanced back at him, wondering why he was still glued to one spot.

"What are you doing, Ethan? I'm going to be late for school," I snapped, rolling my eyes as he gazed at me with an unfathomable expression.

"Ah, right," he muttered after clearing his throat, his hand scrubbing the back of his neck.

He looked almost embarrassed and although it was inherently wrong to think this way, something about the inexplicably dazed look in his eyes made me feel immense pleasure.

Oh, god, I am becoming like Leo, am I not?