CHAPTER 1
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Mom’s wedding vows were still echoing when she laid down the house rules.
“No locked doors,” she said, beaming at her new husband. “We’re a family now. No secrets.”
Caleb, my new stepbrother, didn’t look at her. He looked at me. One eyebrow raised. Like we shared a joke.
We didn’t.
I’d met him twice before the wedding. He was 22, broody, spent the whole rehearsal dinner reading a book in the corner. He didn’t say ten words to me.
Now we shared a wall.
The first week was fine. Awkward breakfasts. Him stealing my cereal. Me pretending he didn’t exist.
Then the “accidents” started.
Him walking out of the bathroom in a towel when he knew I was in the hall. Me dropping my textbook and him kneeling to get it, eyes lingering half a second too long. Him knocking on my door at midnight because “the Wi-Fi’s out in my room, can I use your desk?”
I’m not stupid.
“Caleb,” I said on night nine, when he was sitting on my bed, too close, smelling like my shampoo, “the rule is no locked doors.”
“I didn’t lock it,” he said. His knee brushed mine. “Did you?”
The door was wide open.
He leaned back on his hands, watching me. “You know what’s funny? Dad and your mom think we hate each other. Because we don’t talk at dinner.”
“We don’t.”
“No,” he agreed. “We wait until after.”
My heart did something dumb. “We’re not supposed to—”
“Be related?” He laughed, soft. “We’re not. Check the law. Check the biology. We’re two strangers who got stuck with the same last name for two weeks.”
He stood up then. Walked to my door.
For a second I thought he was leaving. Instead, he shut it. Not locked. Just… closed.
“No locked doors,” he said, turning back to me. “But nothing in the rule says I can’t close it.”
He took one step toward me. Then another.
“Mom’s in the kitchen. Dad’s in the garage,” he said, voice low. “So technically, we’re following the rules.”
My phone buzzed on the desk. Mom: _Dessert in 10! Everyone downstairs :)_
Caleb’s eyes never left mine. “Ten minutes,” he murmured. “That’s a long time.”
He was close enough now that I could see the gold in his eyes. Close enough to kiss.
“Unless,” he said, “you want me to leave it open?”
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🔥 for Part 2. Do I tell him to leave the door open… or close it myself?
Is this a bad idea or the best one?
