Painkiller

He turned from Rebecca and looked back at the party. There were about thirty people drinking and smoking pot, hell, some even fucking. But whenever Rebel thought of Rosie, his dammed stepsister, he felt like a piece of shit for being at these things.

He didn’t bother telling anyone he was leaving, not that any of them would give a shit. He was popular because of the reputation he had, because he didn’t care, fucked up anyone that wanted to talk shit, and he liked to have a good time no matter what. But truth was he was a shitty person.

He knew that, and didn’t try to justify it.

He finished his beer, got into his car, and tossed the empty can on the passenger side seat. Once he had the engine cranked and was driving away from the party he really started to think about Rosie.

He’d known her since they were both six years old. Her mother had married his father, and at first he’d hated her, as any six-year-old boy would hate a little girl that everyone fawned over.

Now both of them were eighteen, and hell, their birthdays were even a month apart. But they were the total opposites, with Rosie being so damn smart, knowing what she wanted out of life, and having her priorities in order.

Why in the hell would she want someone like me?

How about I don’t even fucking think about that shit?

But I love her, and can’t have her.

Twenty minutes later and he pulled his car to a stop in front of his father and stepmother’s house. One more fucking year of school and he planned on getting a place of his own. Rosie would go to college, make something out of her life, and find a guy that was good for her, that deserved her.

I don’t deserve her.

But as much as he knew her finding a smart, decent guy was good for her, the very thought of her with any motherfucker had a blind rage filling him.

“Shit,” he breathed out that word and stared at her window on the second floor of the house.

When she left for college he’d have no choice but to stand there and watch her leave. He knew it was best for her to get out of this town, but the very thought of her leaving had this darkness filling him. Leaving this shitty town wasn’t really in his future, not as far as he could see anyway.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to be camped out in the basement for any more time than was absolutely necessary.

Cutting the engine, he sat there for a moment just staring at the house. The lights were off, and it was late as fuck, but coming and going was easy enough with the basement having a walkout, and his father being pretty lenient, or maybe really not giving a shit what Rebel did.

Rebel reached behind him and grabbed the bottle of vodka from the back seat. He broke the seal on the lid, tipped it back, and took a long drink.

He wasn’t even buzzed, but that would change by the time he said hello to the bottom of the vodka bottle.

Chapter Two

Aidan Liam Bronson.

The only boy I’ll ever love.

But he was called Rebel, and it had been what he’d been called for as long as she could remember. It fit him so perfectly.

Rosie lay in her bed staring at the ceiling, sleep not looking like it would come anytime soon. Her brain kept worrying, and all she could see was algorithms and equations.

She’d studied for five hours today, even though it was Friday and her test wasn’t until Monday. Shouldn’t she have been at a party or hanging out with her friends on a Friday? Shouldn’t she have let loose for a little bit?

You have to have friends to hang out and party with.

Turning onto her side and staring at the bedside clock on her nightstand, she exhaled as it changed from 1:59 AM to 2:00 AM. No, sleep definitely wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

Rosie sat up and grabbed a hair tie off of her nightstand, put her long hair up in a messy bun, and stood. After grabbing her robe, the geeky one with the wiener dogs on it, she left the bedroom in search of something to eat.

The house was quiet with her mom and stepfather asleep down the hall, and Rebel having left before the sun even set.

Rebel, the boy I shouldn’t want but crave desperately.

The fact she’d known him for the last twelve years, and he was technically her stepbrother, should have kept her emotions in check. Shouldn’t she have seen him as a family member for as long as they’d lived under the same roof?

But no, she only saw Rebel as the boy she’d been in love with since she was fourteen years old, before she even knew what those deep emotions were. He was the only boy that would never see her as anything more than how she saw herself.