The Step Bet (Peach State Stepbros, #1)

by Riley Hart

Alpha Theta Mu parties are about fun. We don’t do drama. And we crack down on bad behavior. Hard. Toxic people can go find toxic spaces for that shit.

When I think of an atlas, I think of maps—coherent, useful, reliable. These aren’t my stepbrother’s attributes. He’s what you’d find if you opened the glove compartment and bits and pieces of a map exploded onto the passenger seat. And even if you went through the trouble to tape it all back together, you’d discover it wasn’t printed right—Phoenix in Alabama, London in Peru, Barcelona in Japan. That’s Atlas McCallister. Rogue. Reckless. Troublemaker.

“You know the ones I’m talking about,” Atlas whispers. “Black silk, with that lacy pattern at the waistband…” My cheeks are warm again, and I glance around to see if anyone is in earshot. “What about them?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I think they might be riding up your ass tonight.”

The backyard of the frat house is getting more and more crowded, filled with annoying people I have no desire to be around. Fucking Troy and the weird things he makes me do.

Atlas hasn’t “cooled down.” He’s eating like that chicken Alfredo did something to him personally, while I fork my noodles around the plate so I’ll at least look like I’m enjoying the pasta.

I know why I’m pissed right now doesn’t have anything to do with him, just like he must know I’m not responsible for his dad’s behavior, but as we’ve always done, we take our pain out on each other, using each other as emotional punching bags. Maybe because all that anger has to go somewhere.

Maybe because the fighting distracts us from how much we’re hurting. Whatever the reason, it’s working, and I can feel myself calming down.

beneath the surface, we can all tell there’s something a little…darker isn’t the word…maybe wild…yeah, there’s something wild that wants to break free.

my reckless Atlas.

I don’t move. Can’t. If I do, I’m going to go downstairs and tell everyone at this party what I think about them, or I’m going to end up trashing Troy’s room. It’s not a healthy response, I know that,

Lost to sparking nerves and gasps as though I’m coming up for air as my little Titan worships my cock with his mouth.

Fuck, will not going down on Atlas be one of the biggest regrets of my life? If I never get a chance to taste his cock, at least I got a little lick of the cum on his shirt. I knew it was a weird thing to do, but I told myself tasting him was only fair since he’d tasted me.

Me: Maybe my cock misses your lips. Just a bit. As soon as I hit Send, I regret it. I shouldn’t have admitted that. Atlas: Weirdest thing. My lips have been tingling a lot lately. Me: You suggesting they’re psychic? Atlas: Could be. Me: Or just hungry for my dick? Atlas: Maybe you should ask them next time you see them. Me: I was thinking about heading to McDonald’s later.

This is Atlas! My asshole, jerk Atlas, who’s been little more than a thorn in my side since freshman year of high school. My little fucker Atlas, who’s practically been my sworn rival since we started reveling in each other’s missteps and swapping insults. My intriguing Atlas, who’s got my mind spinning, and whose joke about a date has me more excited about fast food than I should be.

Whatever’s going on between us isn’t something I’m trying to figure out or define. It’s messy and chaotic, just like we are, and frustrating as it might be, I like the idea of letting this runaway train take us wherever it will.

I see you, A.” I tense but don’t move away from him.

But everyone else, if they see the real me and I’m not enough for them, the way I’m not enough for Glen, it would hurt more. “I just like to protect it.”

That’s a difficult question to answer because it’s about Troy, and Troy is my business. If something is about him, it’s about me, but I’m not sure he’s ready to hear that or if I’m ready to say it.

“For being a good person who sticks up for others.”

“Lies,” I tell him, when really his words fill some of the empty holes inside me. “Can we go have orgasms now? I deserve it after that.”

It’s not like I have what it takes to be a boyfriend. I’m Glen McCallister’s son. He’s a prick, I’m a prick, only in different ways. And the whole boyfriend thing requires trust, and that ship has fucking sailed for me.

The smile he shoots my way warms my gut in a scary but welcome way.

Troy winks, then rolls over, and somehow, all that pain and anger I was feeling earlier is just gone. Or at least, it went back into hiding. How does he do that? No one else makes me feel better the way Troy does.

Being with Troy makes me feel loved, makes me feel important.

“I know. You’ve broken me.” And I don’t want to be fixed.

“Atlas,” Troy says, and I know he’s rolling his eyes at me, but that he also thinks I’m cute as fuck.

strange combination of angry and bleeding heart

This man has me so twisted up, and all I can do is hope I never get unraveled. Hope that the ropes just get tighter and tighter because it’s when I feel the most like myself.

how can I ever be worthy of Troy’s love if my own dad doesn’t give a fuck about me? Doesn’t that say something about who I am?

“Aww. I think this calls for a hug. We should hug.” Brenner grins. “I mean, I’m not opposed to hugs,” Taylor adds. “Do we have to?” “You’re getting in touch with your emotions! Stop sucking at it.”