Page 2 of The Step Don't

I know he’s hot. Since our parents first got together, I’ve seen firsthand how guys and girls fawn over him. The way they glance at that sharp jawline and grab at his thick biceps and chest. But that’s not gonna do me any good.

“Wait a second,” Colin says as he sits up, eyeing me suspiciously. “Did you think I was that blond guy you spent half the night with?”

“His name was…” I say in as obnoxious a tone as I can manage, but—

Oh fuck, what was his name?

So much for my attempt at being a smart-ass.

“That guy was straight, though, right?” Colin asks.

I have to keep from rolling my eyes. I swear, sometimes Colin is so oblivious. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t feeling all that straight when he had his hand on my ass.”

“Oh,” he says, rolling his head back for a laugh. “I didn’t pick up on that at all. But, I didn’t with you either, so…”

“Yeah, I think I might have broken you as far as figuring out who’s queer or not.”

“Maybe you did. But don’t be an Ash-hole this morning.” Colin scoots close and throws his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. He doesn’t normally wind up in my bed with my naked ass, but considering how close we are, it’s not really much of a thing for either of us.

“My bro’s sad he didn’t get somestrangelast night?”

“I feel like you’re weaponizing the slang I taught you.”

I nudge my shoulder against Colin, and as he backs off, I run my fingers through his bangs, messing them up in the front. That only makes him grin even more.

Even when Colin’s trying to get under my skin, he’s still the big, lovable Labrador he’s always been. Playful. Loyal. And loves to catch a ball—namely, a football, but really, any ball will do.

“You are just living for this, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Don’t be like that. You slept with Peach State’s star tight end. You know how many people would kill to wake up to this?” He casually flexes his admittedly bulky bicep, the way he might for a girl he’s trying to impress. “And the first guy to manage it? That’s bragging rights for the rest of your college career.” He’s got this wicked grin on his face, trying to get all his digs in while he can. “Seriously, though. I’m sorry you woke up thinking youwere gonna get some dick, and it turned out to be your straight brother.”

“Stepbrother,” I say, which I normally use only when he’s teasing me like this.

Colin puts his hand to his chest. “Ooh, I felt that one.” He winks, making me laugh.

“Okay, I have so many questions about last night,” I say, “but I’m also fucking starving.”

“Come on.” He pats my thigh. “Let’s get some breakfast. At least you can putsomethingin that horny mouth of yours.”

And again, he’s got me laughing, despite the combination of hangover and sexual frustration I’m currently suffering.

Colin rolls out of bed in just his briefs, grabbing his clothes off the bed and floor before he starts to head out.

“Hey!” I call after him, snatching his cap from between the sheets and tossing it to him.

He catches it. “Thanks, bro.”

I toss on some clothes and my glasses, working my way through the events of last night, trying to fill in the gaps, but some things just aren’t coming back to me. That’s what happens when you fuck with hippocampal circuitry.

I head down to the kitchen. Several of my housemates are eating in the adjoining dining area, while Lance—my buddy and Alpha Theta Mu presidentextraordinaire—sits at the kitchen island in a tank top, eating his usual Froot Loops, his gaze on the TV, playing some reality show I don’t recognize. As I near him, he turns to me, and his eyes light up. “Alpha Theta Mu TaskFrat victors!” he exclaims.

A few of the guys holler from the dining area.

Lance and I are both regular players in the Peach State TaskFrat Challenges—a year-round task-based competition between all the frats—because I do enjoy a challenge. And Alpha Theta Mu totally kicked ass last night.

“How you feeling this morning, bruh?” Payton calls out from the dining area, snickering in that way that assures me he saw some wild shit.

I fist-bump Lance before retrieving the container of grits from the pantry. As I start fixing a bowl, I ask him, “So…exactly how bad was I last night?”

---