Step-Brother

The sliding glass door creaked, and my heart nearly stopped. I didn't turn around immediately, keeping my back to her as I leaned against the railing, the cool night air biting at my bare skin. I was standing there in nothing but low-slung grey sweats, the smoke from my cigarette curling into the dark, trying to numb the thought of her just one room away.

I heard her intake of breath, and a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. I knew exactly what she was seeing—the light from the bedroom catching the lines of my back, the way I was pointedly ignoring the "no smoking" rule we both knew I didn't care about. I took one last, slow drag, feeling the heat in my lungs before exhaling a cloud of silver into the night.

"You're not supposed to be out here," I muttered, finally turning my head just enough to catch her silhouette in the doorway.

I let my gaze travel over her, slow and intentional, letting the silence stretch until it felt heavy. I flicked the ash over the side, my eyes darkening as they settled on hers. The "brother" act was wearing thin, and the way she was staring at my chest told me she felt the electricity too.

"Go back inside," I rasped, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration as I stepped toward her, the smell of tobacco and adrenaline clinging to me. "Unless you're planning on staying out here and giving me a reason to finally stop behaving myself."