Rebel Attraction: In Love With My Stepbrother

Abigail

"Hurry up and pack your bags, Abigail. We don't have all day!" Mother calls out loud to me from downstairs.

Once again, mother had another failed relationship but no sooner had she gotten out of this one than she'd entered into another one.

The only difference is that this time, mother claims she'd found "the one" and so insists we move into his house which brings us to the the reason why we were currently packing.

"Can't we just leave some things behind?" I inquired, moving downstairs with a brown box in my hands. "I mean, you guys aren't even married yet"

Mom flashed her ring finger infront of me. "But we are engaged"

"It doesn't count as anything in my book" I state because I knew the reason why mother wasn't getting married to her new man yet. She wasn't sure whatever they had was going to last.

From mother's past failed relationships, I'd gotten to know that what my mother truly needed wasn't a man but rather therapy.

Don't get me wrong, it's just that mother keeps trying to find traces of dad in the men she dates. It's like she hasn't yet moved on from father's death and honestly, I can't say I'd completely moved on as well because I had no one to talk about these kind of things with.

I barely have friends at school and at home, mother is always....well, in a world of her own.

Mother waves her hands all over the air. "Whatever. Let's just get going" Mother stills as she does a head-count of the boxes I'd brought down. "15?. What are in these boxes?"

I shrugged, pushing back my glasses on my nose bridge. "My books"

"Books?"

"Yes, you know. For my studies"

"And your clothes?"

"I'll just come get them some other time"

"God, Abigail" Mother grunts. "I hope Ricky's son teaches you a thing or two about having a social life"

"Who is Ricky?"

"My boyfriend"

I make an "O" with my mouth because honestly, the only thing I knew about mother's boyfriend was that he has a penis. Every other thing was redundant.

Ricky...now I know why mother was dating the guy though. His name starts with an "R" just like father's; Roan.

"Ricky has a son?. That's news to me" I say, trying my best to act interested.

"Yeah. Nathan's a delight. I can't wait for you and him to become best pals" Mother's voice trails off as she stares at the boxes. "You know what?. Why don't you come pick your books some other time?"

I shake my head, disapprovingly. "You pulled me out of school to move into your boyfriend's house, Mother. The book goes"

"We don't even know if there will be space enough for those books yet so for now; they stay"

Throwing my hands up in the air, I accept defeat. "Fine, let's go"

Swinging my bag over my back, I help mom move her belongings to the car booth. Once well-placed, I make my way to the backseat as mother drives off mumbling how all this was going to be an "adventure" for us.

As mother chatted off, I unzip my bag; pulling out a family portrait of mother, father and I.

Father. I thought. I know you're planning to wreck mother's new found relationship again but she seems happy this time so, can you please let her be?.

I stared at the portrait for a long ass time before tucking it back safely inside my bag as mother's endless chatters seemed to have come to an end.

Lifting my head up, i inquired. "Has the car broken down?"

"No, baby girl. We're here"

Staring out the car window, my jaw dropped as I see our car packed infront of a golden gate. As some men rush to open either side of the gate, mother drives in as the huge mansion becomes clearer.

"THIS is where your new boyfriend lives?" I asked. "Who exactly did you meet this time?. The president of the country?."

"Don't be silly, Abigail. Ricky is not the president." Mother states, her voice filled with pride. "Not yet, anyways"

"Not yet, anyways?" I repeat.

"You can save all your questions and ask him personally" Mother drives her car into the garage. No sooner had her car come to a stop had a line of maid servants filed out by the car door.

Princess treatment. I thought. Mother better not leave her new "boyfriend" any time soon or he's going to have a hard time dealing with his heartbreak.

The maid servants open the car door for us as mother and I both stepped out.

"Welcome" They greet in unison.

Mother throws her car keys into the hands of the maid servant nearest to her. "There are some bags in the booth. Please help me move them into the house"

"Will do, ma'am"

"And your name is?"

"Theresa"

"Thank you, Theresa" Mother turns over to me. "Let's get going, Abbie"

As I trudged behind mother, I couldn't get over this cinderella "step-mother" vibes I was getting from her. I guess people do change where there's money involved.

When we get to the house front door, there was a door man waiting for us.

"Welcome, madam" He greets, throwing the door open. "Master Ricky has been expecting you"

"Thank you"

In as much as mother walked into the house as if she owned the place already, I was quite taken aback that she still remembered her manners and was able to say words like "Please" and "Thank you".

I bet she was just trying to make a good first impression on them as mother loves being loved by everyone.

On walking through the front door, my jaw dropped as I took in the sight of mansion. It's interior was unlike anything I'd ever seen.

I couldn't contain the gasp that escaped my lips. "Whoa"

"You like it, huh?" Mother inquired, grinning. "This is going to be your new home"

I was too engrossed with the house that I hadn't been watching where I was going until I'd bumped into a hard, masculine figure.

Please let it not be Ricky. Please let it not be Ricky. I prayed, afraid to open my eyes until --

"Watch where you're going, dork" said the voice of a very angry person. A voice I was familiar with all too well.

Slowly opening my eyes, Nathan's face comes to view as a loud shriek climbed up my throat. "W-What are you doing here?" I stammered unable to form actually sentences.

And how could I when Nathan Heartfilia was right infront of me.

"I should be asking you that question" Nathan grabbed my wrist; tightening his grip as if I were a thief. "Who are you and what are you doing in my home?"