The rain hit the windows in rhythmic taps, like it was trying to soothe Noah’s nerves but it wasn’t working. She sat curled up in the back seat of the black SUV, her hoodie pulled up, earbuds in, staring out at the lavish gated neighborhood they were entering. Her life was about to change in every way, and not in a way she wanted.

Her mom, Rafaela, sat in the front seat next to her new husband, William Leister, a wealthy businessman who looked like he belonged in a magazine ad for high-end watches. Noah still didn’t understand what her mother saw in him. Maybe stability. Maybe money. Maybe some twisted second chance at a dream life. But for Noah, it felt like a betrayal.

Everything she loved the crumbling apartment, her music, her independence was gone. Replaced with manicured lawns, security guards at the entrance, and a mansion with more bathrooms than she had friends. This wasn’t her world. It never would be.

And then came him.

Nick.

He stood in the doorway of the house when they arrived, leaning against the frame like he didn’t have a care in the world. Tall, lean, and cocky, with dark hair that looked intentionally messy and a smirk that screamed trouble. Noah didn’t even need to talk to him to know they’d hate each other.

He didn’t greet her. He didn’t offer to help with her bags. He just gave her a once-over, raised an eyebrow, and turned away.

“Nice to meet you too, stepbrother,” she muttered under her breath.

Inside, the house was a castle vaulted ceilings, artwork she didn’t understand, and glass everywhere. It felt sterile. Cold. Not like home. Her room was bigger than the apartment she used to share with her mom. But she didn’t unpack. Instead, she flopped on the bed and stared at the ceiling, fists clenched.

Later that night, she heard loud music from downstairs. Curious, she followed the sound to a garage-turned-party-zone, where Nick and his friends were drinking, smoking, and laughing too loud.

“What is this? A frat house?” she scoffed.

Nick looked up, amused. “Didn’t realize we had company from the convent.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a walking cliché.”

“And you’re a walking attitude,” he shot back.

It was the first of many fights.

But beneath the barbs, something else lingered. A strange spark. Not attraction, not yet—but tension. The kind that simmers beneath the surface, waiting for a moment to ignite.

Noah went back to her room that night and slammed the door shut.

She told herself she’d never get close to him.

She had no idea just how wrong she was.

If there was one thing Noah couldn’t stand more than being uprooted, it was pretending. Pretending to fit in, to play polite, to act like she wasn’t constantly watching her step. Every day in that mansion felt like walking on glass—shiny, brittle, waiting to break.

The only thing worse? Sharing space with Nick.

The first week was a battlefield of sarcastic comments and glances that lingered too long. He was a ghost in the mornings, a storm at night. His music blasted through the walls at 2 a.m. His engine revved like a challenge when he sped off in his obnoxiously loud sports car. Every time he passed her in the hallway, he acted like she was in the way. And every time he smirked, her heart betrayed her with a flutter she hated.

But she wasn’t about to give in to a guy who walked around like he owned the world.

One afternoon, she was skating outside the garage, headphones on, when Nick pulled in, nearly clipping her board. She jumped back, slamming her hand on the hood.

“Are you blind?” she snapped.

Nick stepped out of the car slowly, sunglasses on, looking far too relaxed. “This is my driveway.”

“It’s our driveway,” she shot back. “Don’t act like I don’t exist.”

He smirked. “Oh, trust me. You’re pretty hard to ignore.”

That threw her. He wasn’t just being an ass—he was flirting.

“Do you ever take anything seriously?”

Nick shrugged. “Tried once. Didn’t go well.”

Noah stared at him. Something shifted in his expression, just for a second. Behind that smug exterior, there was something else. Pain? Loneliness? She didn’t know. She didn’t want to know. But it stuck with her.

Later that week, Rafaela and William hosted a formal dinner for business guests. Noah was forced into a black dress that hugged too tight and sat across from Nick, who looked irritatingly perfect in a tailored suit.

He tapped his fork against his glass subtly. “You clean up well, Steps.”

She kicked his shin under the table. “Call me that again and I’ll stab you with my salad fork.”

He laughed. A real laugh. Not mocking—almost impressed.

The night ended with them outside, away from the buzz of the adults, both leaning against the balcony railing in silence.

“You hate it here, don’t you?” he asked.

She didn’t respond at first. “I don’t belong here.”

“Neither do I.”

Their eyes met, and for a heartbeat, they saw each other—not the masks, not the attitude. Just two broken kids, stuck in someone else’s idea of a perfect life.

It scared Noah, how easy it felt to talk to him. How familiar his pain looked.

The next day, he drove her to school—not because he had to, but because he offered. No smart remarks. Just music, windows down, wind in her hair.

Something had shifted between them. And it wasn’t going back.

But sparks are dangerous things. They can light candles. Or burn houses down.

And this fire? It was just beginning.

The house didn’t feel like a home, but that didn’t stop it from pulling Noah and Nick closer. Not in the open. Never in front of their parents. But in the in-between—those late hours, empty hallways, and quiet car rides—they kept finding each other.

Noah tried to ignore it. She told herself it was just loneliness, a side effect of being trapped in a new life. But the truth burned at the edges of every thought.

It was Nick.

The worst part? He looked at her like he knew it. Like he knew the exact moment her walls cracked.

One Friday night, everything changed.

William and Rafaela were away for a gala. The mansion was theirs. Nick, being Nick, threw a party. People flooded the house—expensive cologne, red Solo cups, music thumping so hard it made the marble floor vibrate.

Noah tried to stay in her room, but curiosity won out. She came down the stairs in a loose flannel, shorts, and combat boots, head held high.

Nick spotted her from across the room. He was surrounded by people, girls laughing too hard at jokes he barely told. But when he saw her, his smile faltered—just for a second.

Then he pushed through the crowd and walked up to her, holding out a drink.

“Didn’t think you’d come down,” he said.

“I live here, remember?”

He nodded. “Still… wasn’t sure if you’d join the rest of us mortals.”

She took the drink, suspicious. “What is it?”

“Something stupid. Don’t drink it.”

She smiled. “You’re not always an ass, are you?”

“Depends who you ask.”

They ended up on the rooftop balcony, away from the noise. The city lights stretched out below, the air crisp with early spring.

“You ever think about what you’d be doing if your mom hadn’t married my dad?” Nick asked.

Noah leaned back against the railing. “Yeah. I’d be broke but free. Probably working late shifts and skating through life.”

He chuckled. “Sounds better than this golden prison.”

They were quiet for a moment. Then he turned to her, face more serious than she’d ever seen.

“You know this isn’t just… nothing, right?” he asked.

She froze. Her heart hammered.

“You mean this—whatever this is—between us?” she said.

He nodded. “It’s not just tension. It’s not just… boredom.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“I hate that I get it,” she said quietly. “I hate that you’re the only person in this place that makes me feel like I’m not losing my mind.”

And then—without thinking, without planning—he leaned in.

And she didn’t pull away.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first. Then hungrier, as if they were both trying to make sense of the fire they’d been ignoring.

When they finally pulled apart, the silence between them wasn’t awkward.

It was dangerous.

“This can’t happen,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said.

But it already had.

That night, Noah lay in bed wide awake. Her lips still buzzed with the memory of his. Her mind spun. It was wrong. They were step-siblings. They lived under the same roof. Their parents were married.

And yet… it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt inevitable.