Brock seemed like he wanted to prove something, show me another side of himself, but maybe I don’t want that. Maybe I want that dirty bad boy I remember so vividly, or so I think. Can I even trust myself with these memories? Who is to say I haven’t added hyperbole where necessary, filled in details that didn’t exist in the first place? I had a real good imagination growing up, always the one surrounded by dolls, all of whom had a name and occupation. I was that kid. I arrive home, bypass the main house and get straight into Operation Dinner Date. Date? Yeah, that does sound kind of weird, doesn’t it? What do I even say if someone asks if we’re together? ‘No, sir, we’re just stepbrother and stepsister out on a romantic dinner date. Nothing to be concerned about. Nothing to see here.’ I put my hair up, put it down. I try on a dress. I take off a dress. I pace around my room. I can’t remember the last time I put in this effort for a dinner, and why?
What do You think about Burned: A Stepbrother Romance?
