Step-Lover

Chapter 1: Introduction to my Royally Fucked-Up Life

PROLOGUE

"Check. It. Out." Kailin said softly.

"I know, I know," I whispered back.

"God, how is it so big?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"I think it's fake."

"They can't make it bigger…can they?"

"Hey, if they can make boobs look like watermelons, they can do anything." The two of us stared in wonderment at the truly massive jellyfish floating gracefully in the water in front of us. It seemed to be illuminated by some eerie light, beaming through its translucent skin and casting a strange pinkish glow on the ripples around it. The stingers danced in delicate waves as the liquid moved inconspicuously. Sure, it was gorgeous. I mean, no one was stupid enough to not be able to admire the incredible beauty that nature could conjure up. If they were, they were dumbasses.

But please. Let's be honest. The thing was fucking scary. If you could've seen the size of those stingers, man!

"I want to poke it…" Kailin hissed, and her hand reached out absentmindedly. Yep, she forgot the glass was there. Yep, her fingers crumpled under the forceful advance of her appendage.

Yep, she's a dipshit. Not going to lie.

"Ouch!" she shrieked softly, shaking her hand back and forth against the pain. I saw what she was going to do next and grabbed her by the wrist.

"I swear to God, if you stick even one of your fingers in your mouth, you're going in the tank with the jellyfish," I warned her. A pout masked her face and she reluctantly settled for rubbing her fingers. One of my eyebrows flicked up in amusement, and I thought about asking her if she did that on purpose. Like, really? Could anyone be that stupid? But I knew the answer was yes, actually, someone was that stupid, and it was Kailin. So I just dragged her with me to the next tank of underwater beasties.

"Gosh, I haven't been to the aquarium since I was, like, four," Kailin said, completely forgetting what had just happened. I swear her brain was like a sieve; it filtered most everything out except for the things she wanted to remember. If I'd had that power, I would've gotten rid of my mom's memory a long time ago. But alas, a lot of us are not so lucky, so we must put up with the troubling past. Day after torturous day.

…Contrary to what I may've accidentally led you to believe, I'm not emo. Promise.

"Marine Biology rocks so hard that they decided to take us here," I grumbled, watching a group of young children sprint by. Being honest, I had a strong urge to just throw one of my legs out and trip one of the little bastards. But I knew I was just bitter that I had to be dragged to this God-forsaken place, so I settled for glaring at their backsides. A death glare, maybe, but sadly looks can't kill (lucky for some people, unfortunate for most; I would've killed so many assholes if you could really shoot daggers at someone).

"Oh, don't be a sour-puss," my friend chided. "I think it's way cool. Just look at all this shit!" She gestured to the large sculptures, photos, posters, and diagrams.

"It's just a glorified school. What's so great?"

"Ugh, you're so grumpy."

"Have you known me to be anything else?" We grinned at each other. Suddenly, her attention was diverted.

"Check it!" She scurried past me. When I turned to see what shiny object had captured her this time, I was met with the sight of a humongous tank with large creatures swimming around in the hundreds upon thousands of feet of water. They looked sleek and shimmered in the light that shone from above. To the very ignorant person, the things looked like living missiles, dark metallic grey yet moving effortlessly through their environment.

Then, the person would wise up and pick out a pair of pitch black pupils embedded in the smoke-colored skin, a set of gills, and a rack of razor-like chompers. And after that, the person would realize that they needed mental help for not recognizing the animal in the first place.

"Okay, so this trip has a bright side, even you can't deny!" Kailin smiled smugly at me as she laid a palm against the cool glass of the shark tank. She was right; I couldn't deny that sharks were pretty damn awesome. But I didn't have time for that. My gaze was immediately snatched by something else.

"Maybe two bright sides," I breathed. Out of the corner of my focus, I saw Kailin's head turn as well, and I was sure she was ogling with me. A boy stood about ten feet away, concentrating very hard on the sharks gliding before him. His chestnut hair was mussed up to perfection, walking the difficult line between pathetic bedhead and tight-ass hairdo. Though a bit pale, his skin was great, silky and soft-looking as it flowed along his impeccable bone structure. His high cheekbones gave him quite the aristocratic look, his nose was straight and nicely shaped, his lips were rather thin, and his body was just too gorgeous to be ignored.

Oh, and did I mention I nearly cried at the sight of his eyes? Seriously, even the water that the sharks were swimming in wasn't that blue. I nearly drowned in those pools behind the sheets of amazing lashes.

"Oh fucking snap!" Kailin coughed, trying to be discreet.

Do you ever feel like slapping your friends upside the head? Never? Hmm. Maybe it's just me. But if you knew Kailin, God, you'd be all over her in a heartbeat if you had any sort of temper. Fortunately, I have the patience of a saint…Okay, you can stop laughing now.

I saw his head begin to swing towards us, so I dug my heel into the navy carpet and twirled ninety degrees and pretended to be entranced by the sharks. It was funny, acting like the stupid fish could hold my attention more than his hypnotic eyes could. But it was totally worth it when I realized that Kailin was still gawking. I watched her critically out of my peripheral vision. What the hell was she doing?! I could distinctly feel him looking at us, yet she refused to pretend like she wasn't totally smitten and kept right on gazing at him!

"Kailin, have some tact," I hissed under my breath. Her huge green eyes snapped towards me, and I saw the shadow of confusion fall across her brow.

Shit. Don't say it, Kay, don't say it.

"Why are you looking at the sharks, Harley?" she said much too loudly for my taste. "I thought you were looking at—"

My knee flew into the back of her thigh before her mouth could blather on anymore. She squeaked, but then enlightenment sparked on her face.

"Oooohhhh," she sighed, then winked subtly at me. "Gotcha."

Oh Jesus, what is she going to do now? I growled in my head. My eyes were wide with horror as I watched her slim hips sway grandly around, taking the rest of her body with them so she spun, and stopping when she was facing down the hall (and "coincidentally" the gorgeous guy). Her stick-thin arm extended out as she gestured wildly to our surroundings.

"I do believe it is time for us to take our leave, don't you, Harley dear?" Kailin called with quite a bit of volume. Her head whipped back over her shoulder so she could toss me a huge wink. Again.

Boy, if I could've at the moment, I would've facepalmed myself into next week.

"Just go," I snarled and shoved her forward in between the shoulder blades. She whimpered as she stumbled a couple steps, but trudged along anyway. I didn't look back at the boy, not once; but even someone as dumb as Kailin would've been able to feel his intense eyes following us all the way down the hall.

PRESENT

Yeah. I wish it stayed that simple.

You know that loud snap you get from biting into the perfect apple? It's like a crack, and the second you hear it, you're like "Damn, this apple is going to be awesome." The loud snaps that follow are great, too, don't get me wrong, but the very first one, it just makes the whole freaking apple, you know? Like, if you get this soft mushing sound, you're like "Shit, now I've got to eat this thing 'cause I took a bite and I can't just put it back and pretend like I never touched it." But that crack…man, that crack is a good sign.

Well, if my relationships were an apple, I never even knew a crack or snap existed.

We all have a few bad boyfriends, am I right? Of course I am. But me? Shit, I've never had a good one. See, I fall for the bad boys. I'm sure you could tell. Anyway, it all started in sixth grade when I dated that eighth grader that had started drinking when he was my age. Damn, was that kid hot…but that's not what I'm talking about. The point is that it was his fault; he started this stupid spree of mine. Now, I'm stuck getting all the douchebags, albeit hot douchebags.

"I fucking hate you, Chris!" I shrieked. "Now get the fuck away from me!"

The tool of the minute? Chris Campbell. Shaggy dark blonde hair, warm brown eyes—excuse me while I wipe my drool. But he was such an asshole! I'm not joking!

"Babe, come on, don't be like that," Chris reasoned. God, his voice was so calm and soft it made me even angrier. It made me want to tear his nuts off instead of just his head (the head on his shoulders, not the head on his dick, for all you perverts out there!).

Example of Douchebagginess: he called me babe. That should be enough.

"Call me babe one more time, and I'll kick you so hard in the balls, you won't only see stars, but you'll see the whole goddamn solar system," I growled, and turned on my heel and continue to stomp away. A chuckle sounded from behind me. His chuckle was so fucking annoying.

"See, that's what I like about you, sexy," he snickered. "You're so feisty." Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder and torked me around. Chris's face filled my gaze, and I couldn't look away from his bright brown eyes. Of course, he was undeniably hot. I didn't go out with anything less.

I hope he burned in his own hotness. Burned until his flesh melted into a smoldering pile of shit.

"Let. Go. Of me. Chris." I deadpanned. A smirk twitched onto his mouth.

"Never again," he hissed, and his lips attacked mine. I couldn't argue that not only was he a good kisser when he was pissed—well, he was a good kisser all the time, actually—but there was also a sense of hominess when I kissed him. He was familiar. There was a vague idea of rightness when we met.

Okay, now that I got that admittance out of the way, I grumbled in my head. Fuck this shit!

You know what a girl's best weapon is? I'm sure you'd think it was the claws, right? They'd certainly be a competitor, no doubt about it, but really only if you got a decent manicure. But no, the good ol' trusty knee to the groin was the most effective means of defense. Trust me, boys, it hurts you more than it hurts us; there is a strange satisfaction in crippling a guy there. It's like taboo, and you just feel so liberated once you've done it.

And watching Chris Campbell crumple at my feet…no better feeling in the world, I swear.

"Enjoy staring at Pluto," I spat to him over his pathetic whimpers. His chin was tucked into his neck as he rocked pack and forth on the pavement, cupping his manhood. I thought it was safe to assume that I'd taken off a few inches, wouldn't you?

The sound my heels made as they clicked along in the school parking lot cooled my anger a bit. They were such a confidence booster. No matter what kind of girl you are, a good pair of heels always made you feel fierce, even for a bitch like me. It's strange, the kind of effect it has; your hips sway differently (I should say more, actually), your shoulders are more erect, and boy, do you flip your hair more. I know, weird, right?

Anyway, by the time I reached my car, I'd almost completely forgotten about Chris and his cheating ways (the third time's the charm, they say…I guess it's crazy that it took me three times to dump him permanently for cheating). All I was thinking about was getting home before my mom drank herself into a coma. No, not an alcohol coma; a tea coma. Fucking hippie. The amount of weed in my house was sickening; I supposed she loved nature so much, she decided to smoke it. Whatever. It wasn't my problem. But it was her turn to fix dinner tonight, and she wasn't getting out of that again. Even if I'd probably end up calling the fire department and some Chinese restaurant anyway, she was going to put her ass into that kitchen and do something.

Everything blurred past me as I raced home. My foot was feeling a bit heavy on the pedal, and the purr of my small car was music to my ears. It didn't take long for me to whip into my driveway, elegantly slide out of my leather seat, and slam the car door shut. But it seemed like the walk to the front door took forever. You know that sense of unease you get when you just know something bad is about to happen? Yeah, that's what suspended time for me. Constant streams of "Oh shit"s were running through my mind.

The doorknob felt cool and uninviting against my palm, but I put on my big girl panties and walked over the threshold.

"Mom," I called. There was no answer at first. "Mom, if you're high at three in the afternoon, we're having your ass for dinner." She never got high until at least five.

"Don't be silly, dear," a wispy voice yelled back. "My relaxation hour isn't upon us yet."

"Mm, can't wait for it," I muttered sarcastically as I quickly jogged up the stairs toward the kitchen. I made the quick turn into the brightly-lit room, and my mother was clutching a mug of tea. Surprise, surprise.

"And dearie," she sighed. "Please call me Willow more often. Mom's good, too, if that makes you comfortable. But Willow…that really gives me a bang." I suppressed a scoff. If the last sentence wasn't enough to tell you, she'd been reading The Catcher and the Rye lately (in my opinion, it's a waste of paper, but of course no one shares that sentiment because it's a "classic"), and now she was trying to use the lingo.

Hmm, returning to the fifties, huh Ma?

"Your name is Jennifer, Mom," I said, wrinkling my nose.

"But Willow is just so beautiful…" Her eyes glazed over, a clear indication that she'd catapulted into one of her daydreams.

"Aaaaand….I've lost her," I grumbled like an announcer. With a flourish of hair, I began to stride out of the kitchen.

"Oh, honey," Mom called, apparently breaking out of her stupor. Damn, now I'd have to listen to her spew shit.

"What?" I snapped as impatiently as I could. Of course, she didn't get the hint.

"I've got something important to tell you." My heels thwacked again as I returned to her presence.

"Shoot." I settled myself against the doorframe and folded my arms. Her expression was so placid and calm that I didn't believe that she wasn't high. But her eyes looked particularly aware, collecting the set of my features. I felt my lower lip sliding out farther in thought, trying to understand what that could mean.

"It's not that easy to say," she began. "So I'll just come right out and say it. Harley, I'm getting married."

Silence.

"Harley?"

Silence.

"Harley, dear?"

Silence.

"Shall I call the hospital, sweetheart?"

"I…I'm sorry," I stuttered. Anger started to boil in my stomach, so I had to work extra hard to keep my voice from exploding. "I think I must've misheard you. Did…did you just…did you just say you were getting married?"

"I did, honey." She beamed at me. Yep, flame was engulfing me. My vision was beginning to go red, and a fiery haze was filtering through my brain.

"And you didn't even bother to tell me who the fuck this bastard is?" I yelled.

"Sweetie, I didn't tell you I was dating."

"Exactly! What kind of mother are you?" I screamed. She sat in silence with heavily-lidded eyes, letting me rant. That made me even madder. Who was she to start acting all understanding? "What kind of mother gets high all day and doesn't even think of her daughter? Am I even part of your life, like, at all? Who would ever marry someone like that? Is he insane? Is he a criminal? Is he even straight? How could you not even tell me when the man was going to be my fucking new father?"

Yeah, half the stuff I said was incredibly uncalled for. But you know what? Suck my dick if she (or you, in fact) doesn't like it. Did she deserve it? You bet your ass she did.

"I know you're upset, hon, but this will all be for the better," she assured me. If I could have plucked up enough courage (which was strange that I couldn't), I would've spat in her face. I would've bitch-smacked her so hard, she'd need dentures by the time I was through. I would've introduced her face to my three-inch heel and her butt to the staircase. But instead, I took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the rising desire to murder the woman.

"When you decide to start thinking of someone besides yourself," I snarled. "Let me know." And I turned and trotted to my bedroom.

You'd think mother dearest would call after me, right? You'd think she'd beg me to listen and give the guy a chance, right? You'd think she'd at least do something, right? Yeah, maybe in a normal family. But after Mr. Father of the Year, a.k.a. my birth dad, walked out on us, I pretty much gave up on the "big happy family" idea. Plus, what with my mom being stoned or high off of tea (don't ask me how she does it, but she does get some sort of buzz from drinking cup after cup of tea; I think it's some sort of talent), I didn't really expect all that much anymore.

Still…it would've been nice to think she gave a damn about what I thought, you know? But whatever. I was independent. I could deal.

Jesus, it was getting to the point where school was my sanctuary.

More?

It picks up soon, just had to get a few intros out of the way ;D.