MADISON

There's a startling periodic vibration that zaps right into my debilitated brain, and I finally shoot up to a sitting position under the duress of the alarming object beside me.

I needed at least three good seconds to become ensnared with the presence, and when everything registered in my head, I am instantly running down the hall, with a blanket wrapped around my entire naked body.

Well, the word "running" isn't quite the right word to explain my movement; with the soreness between my legs, I'm sure you'd call the move something more of an ataxic gait.

The moment I push open the door to the bathroom, I pour out everything I possibly have left in my system into the toilet.

I tried to control the outburst, but with the awareness of what I've done, it's hard to control anything.

I didn't... I didn't give my v-card to Caden, the most horrible of all humans? But with the visions in my head, I am sure I am plunged into yet another cruel and unusual punishment.

The more I push away the images out of my head, the more additional portraits merge into my awareness, and I am mindful of what I've done.

No, I didn't kiss him; I didn't take off his shirt. I could remember licking the entire region of his chest and watching him pant with every stroke of my tongue. Fuck no! I didn't do that with my stepbrother.

My fingers plug tightly into the locks of my hair, pulling hard on each strand. I let out a deep breath with closed eyes, but the image of Caden sucking on my puckered nipples comes playing vividly like the day.

Oh my goodness!

I sit hopelessly at the bottom of the toilet with my legs stretched out in front of me.

"What have I done?" With terrified widened eyes, my stare was distant and targeted at nothing specific. In the present circumstances, I am horrid.

Those are the words I kept asking myself inside my unstable, beating heart.

I wasn't drunk; I was right attentive and conscious of the risk, yet I kissed him and didn't stop.

I let him proceed without protesting; he was drunk, but I wasn't. I gave out my virginity to the wrong person-scratch that, forbidden one-and let myself enjoy every part of it. For fucking clarity, he's my goddamn brother; we share the same last name. What have I done?

My heartbeat races fast and loud, but I manage myself out of the bathroom and through the hallway to the living area where everything happened; many pieces of evidence are lying scattered everywhere.

The disorganized throw pillows, the dress I wore yesterday and the underwear, the coffee table decoration were tossed around the room. We really got physical. The memory of Caden's chiseled naked body on top of my equally naked one while shoving his tongue into my mouth tricks with my senses, and I bite down the tears threatening to let loose.

I remember how good he felt, how perfect he was, and fuck if I ain't suffering from distinguishing between what's right and wrong.

There's a musical tone that comes from the couch I was laying on some minutes ago; for an instant, I thought it was my phone, but when my eyes fall on the black phone case, I notice it's Caden's.

I have a couple of reasons why I should panic, one of which I know I've left my phone somewhere back at the fraternity party, and two of which I'm alerted to the possibility that Caden might be in this apartment.

I swallow several times, but it doesn't help the dryness in my throat; however, it worsens when the door I've hoped stayed locked comes swinging open and exposes a fully clothed Caden. But that's not it alone because when he's fully clothed, it means he's fully sober.

I freeze in my stance, praying for the floor to open and eat me up while my eyes cautiously watch the man whose eyes are everywhere but on me.

He's here, of course, he would be; besides, it's also his house. Only he has made it abundantly clear that he doesn't sleep with anyone. So just because he deflowered me doesn't imply that he could change that policy for me, especially when he's probably done that with too many girls.

He's searching the area, with no cognizance of my presence, regardless of the fact that I'm standing in the middle of the room.

He looks a different kind of good I've never caught sight of, even having not showered. His long locks of disheveled brown hair skid over his forehead, some strands coating around those gorgeous eyes that hide behind the thickest male eyelashes I've ever seen.

"Your phone is here." I make a move for the object, but what I learn next is the outcome I was afraid of.

"Do. Not. Touch. My. Phone." He warns, stopping me halfway through the couch his phone is laying onto. He's seething, still avoiding looking at me.

I know whatever we had, it's going to be a long way through hell.

CADEN

I yank my phone from the couch that I woke up on some minutes ago before escaping into my room to collect myself and let everything that's happened subside in my head.

It should, but I don't understand why it doesn't. I still can't wipe off the feeling of what I had with the girl with those enticing eyes I couldn't stop staring into last night.

But why? It's not like it takes me more than thirty seconds to erase the ecstasy of any good orgasm I've had with all the girls I've been with. Why is it taking so long with Mad?

Why does it feel like looking at her carries some unknown consequence I'm not ready for?

Again, why do I want more of what we had? Why do I feel like making her coffee and helping her into a bathtub? Why do I feel like taking her to fun places and making her day as great as last night?

What she gave me was something I've avoided since high school; I was aware of this exact result. It was the reason why I skipped all the virgins I came across.

Don't think otherwise; of course, I feel honored and grateful for having her, for knowing she trusted me with her greatest jewel. But in the end, what we did was all wrong. That fantastic intimacy we shared was fucking wrong, and someone should be saying it.

But it wouldn't be me; God knows trying to stay calm right now is one of the hardest choices I've ever made. As for inside, I'm fucking going insane.

"Are you mad about what happened?" The person who spoke is the opposite of whom I used to know. This person is fragile, soft, and scared to the max.

Fucking hell.

"Do you mean the part where you took advantage of my drunken state and made me screw you, or the part where you wanted to invade my privacy?" I know it's idiotic of me to behave so arrogantly, but in my defense, I needed a shield before she could expose how much she's entirely uncool with what happened between us.

"I-I..." She stops, or more like chokes on her words.

"Do you have any idea what we've done, what you've done?" I finally looked at her. She was perfectly swaddled in the living room blanket we had shared through the night. I still can't believe I fell asleep with her in my arms and had a peaceful sleep.

It was as if she had been waiting for me to look at her; she gave off the impression of a terrified person, her pretty eyes glistening with tears.

"I wasn't the only one involved in this situation; it takes two to..." Her voice trails off, and she folds her lips between her teeth.

Unbelievably, I shake my head at the immature girl standing before me. She can't even say the word out loud, yet she made me take away her virginity? How long will it take before she regrets all of this? The reality of how she lost her valuable gift to the drunk stepbrother she so badly hates? And the fact that we did that without protection makes the situation worse and potentially unforgivable, especially if she ends up pregnant due to this reckless mistake.

"You can't even say the word. This is bullshit," I exasperatedly mutter, turning away from her.

"Why are you angry? It's not like you aren't equally as guilty as I am," she retorts, her irritation evident.

"I'm sure the law will disagree," I snap, pacing behind the couch.

"What's wrong with you?" she calls out, seeming desperate for something I don't quite understand. Well, with Mad, I don't understand anything at all.

In my stupefied state, I exhale a frustrated laugh and gesture with my hands while answering her bewildering question. "What's wrong with me is the fact that my sober stepsister threw her uneducated virgin self at my drunken version, leading us to have unprotected sex, Mad."

Throughout my life, one thing I've always been attentive to is using condoms before engaging with any women. I've never been in a situation where I had to worry about the potential consequences of our actions.

Perhaps that's why I'm panicking; maybe I can't handle any potential outcome of our thoughtless actions.

"I-I..." She struggles with her words again, her fingers fumbling against each shaky nail.

"You seduced me and made me do something I'd never do if I were sober."

Now it's her turn to avoid my gaze. "You're so rude," she utters childishly.

"I'm rude? I'm rude?" She's absolutely insane. But I know who Mad is; she's the type of girl who would hit you when you least expect it. And I know that whatever she's trying to hide, she has a great comeback. That's why I use crudeness to punch her back verbally, hoping it might divert her from blaming me for taking away her virginity when she wasn't ready. "Great, how nice? The innocent one among Thaddeus's offspring, aren't you?" I mock.

I catch her chewing on her inner cheeks as she wobbly announces, "I'll get ready for work."

I stand there, impassive, not letting her tricky demeanor get to me.

"You should, because I want you out of my sight. I can't think properly with you crowding everywhere," I tell her just as the doorbell rings. It takes a few seconds before I sense her footsteps moving toward the entrance.