Illicit Entanglement

1

ALEX

I hate my family, well not all of them, but if I am giving the chance, I will burn them all to the ground.

The clinking of silverware echoed in the tense silence. Mashed potatoes threatened to erupt from my volcano-shaped bowl as my dad cleared his throat. I braced myself. Here it comes.

“Alex,” he began, his voice a touch too loud, “How about those, uh, report cards we discussed getting framed?”

I stabbed a rogue broccoli floret with unnecessary force. “Right,” I mumbled, my eyes glued to the massacre on my plate. “About that...”

“Seems Caleb got straight A’s again,” my stepmom, Brenda, chimed in, her smile as sharp as a freshly peeled carrot. Caleb, ever the golden child, beamed back, a halo of perfect curls framing his smug face.

“Must be nice,” I muttered, the air thickening with unspoken frustration.

“It is,” Caleb chirped, “Especially when Dad lets you pick any video game you want!”

My dad chuckled, a sound that grated on my nerves like a rusty fork on a plate. “That’s the spirit, champ! Now, Alex, maybe you could take a page out of Caleb’s textbook, huh?”

My textbook? More like a dusty tome of boredom. History lectures felt like watching paint dry, and dissecting frogs in Biology class only made me want to become a vegetarian. But explaining that to Dad, a man who practically lived on steak, was like trying to teach a dog calculus.

“It’s not that easy, Dad,” I mumbled, shoving another reluctant broccoli floret around my plate. My cheeks burned; I hated being compared to Caleb, the human homework machine.

“Easy?” Dad boomed, his fork clattering onto his plate. “School shouldn’t be easy, son. It should be about pushing yourself, striving for excellence!”

“Like that time you tried to fix the leaky faucet and ended up flooding the basement?” I shot back, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

Brenda choked on her wine, and Caleb snickered. Dad’s face turned the same shade as the overcooked beets on his plate.

“That’s different,” he sputtered, “That was a plumbing issue. This is about academics!”

“Maybe school just isn’t my thing,” I mumbled, a tiny voice of rebellion rising within me.

“Nonsense!” Dad boomed, then softened his voice, attempting a conciliatory tone. “Look, son, I just want you to succeed. You have so much potential, you just need to...”

“To be more like Caleb?” I finished for him, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dad sighed, a sound like a deflating balloon. “Look, Alex, I’m not saying copy Caleb exactly. But maybe you could, you know, borrow some of his study habits?”

“His study habits involve color-coding his notes and reciting Shakespeare while juggling flaming chainsaws, Dad,” I deadpanned. “Pretty sure that’s not something a normal person can replicate.”

Brenda gave a pointed cough. “Actually, Caleb does juggle,” she said primly.

“Well, good for him,” I muttered, collapsing back in my chair. This conversation was going nowhere fast, and the roast chicken was starting to sound very appealing.

“Maybe Alex just needs a little motivation,” Caleb piped up, his voice laced with a hint of mischief. He leaned over and whispered in Dad’s ear, his eyes twinkling. Dad’s lips stretched into a wide grin.

“That’s it!” Dad exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “A little friendly competition never hurt anyone, right, Alex?”

Uh oh. The last “friendly competition” my dad and I had involved building a cardboard spaceship and ended with a bruised ego and a very sore knee.

“What kind of competition?” I asked, eyeing him warily.

Dad’s grin widened further. “Grades, of course! Whoever gets the higher GPA this semester gets...” he paused dramatically, “...bragging rights for the entire year!”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Bragging rights? Seriously? That was his big motivator? The image of myself, forced to endure a year of Caleb’s smug superiority, flashed before my eyes.

The doorbell’s shrill ring sliced through the tense dinner conversation. Relief washed over me as I watched Uncle George and Aunt Martha lumber in, their arms overflowing with Tupperware containers. Trailing behind them were Emma and Jane, my cousins, looking like polar opposites. Emma, with her fiery red hair and a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes, winked at me before settling into a chair next to a stiffened Brenda. Jane, on the other hand, seemed permanently attached to her phone, a frown etched on her perfectly manicured face.

The air crackled with unspoken tension as Brenda launched into a monologue about her prize-winning marmalade, completely ignoring Emma. Uncle George, oblivious, boomed about his latest golf game, while Aunt Martha fussed over Jane’s hair. The whole scene felt like a bad sitcom – dysfunctional family edition.

Emma, however, seemed unfazed. She caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, a silent question hanging in the air. My reply came out in a whisper, “What’s with the frostbite reception?”

A flicker of sadness crossed her features, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. “Family drama, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” I challenged, a spark of protectiveness igniting within me. “I’m not exactly a toddler anymore.”

Her lips twitched. “Eighteen doesn’t exactly qualify as ancient wisdom, Alex.”

“Ancient, maybe not,” I countered, a playful grin spreading across my face. “But definitely not clueless.”

The corner of her mouth lifted further. Maybe I wasn’t completely invisible after all.

Dessert was a parade of Aunt Martha’s overly sweet cakes. As everyone indulged with forced enthusiasm, I excused myself and stepped outside. The cool night air felt refreshing compared to the stifling atmosphere inside.

A moment later, the screen door creaked open and Emma emerged, her silhouette framed by the warm kitchen light. Leaning against the railing, she sighed, a sound heavy with unspoken burdens.

“Couldn’t take the sugar overload anymore?” I asked, offering her a sympathetic smile.

She shook her head, her gaze distant. “It’s...complicated.”

“Complicated how?” I pressed gently.

She hesitated, then let out a defeated sigh. “Look, it’s none of your business, okay?”

My jaw clenched. “Maybe not,” I said, my voice firm. “But if someone’s treating you like you’re not even family, it kind of becomes everyone’s business.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. No one, not even her own brother, had ever spoken up for her like that. A flicker of gratitude sparked in her gaze, quickly followed by a wry smile.

“You’re just a kid, Alex. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Eighteen,” I corrected pointedly. “Not a kid anymore.”

A genuine smile broke through her facade, warming her hazel eyes. “Right, eighteen.”

The silence stretched between us, comfortable and charged at the same time. “Why do you even stay?” I blurted out, the question tumbling from my lips before I could stop it.

“Where would I go?” she asked, her voice a whisper. “I don’t have the money to live on my own.”

A wave of frustration washed over me. It wasn’t fair. Emma, with her fiery spirit and sharp wit, deserved so much better.

“If I had money,” I mumbled, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “I’d make sure you never wanted for anything.”

She laughed, a soft, melodic sound that danced on the cool night air. “That’s a sweet thought, Alex. But the real world doesn’t work like that.”

As she turned to head back inside, a sudden impulse surged through me. Reaching out, I gently grasped her hand. The warmth of her skin sent a jolt through me, unexpected and thrilling. Her eyes met mine, a question lingering in their depths.

Before I could overthink it, I pulled her into a hug. It wasn’t the awkward, one-armed embrace you shared with a cousin. No, this was different. Our bodies pressed together, a silent conversation spoken in the language of unexpected connection.

Then, as quickly as it began, the moment shattered. We pulled apart, both our faces flushed, a mixture of confusion and something else, something deeper, clouding our eyes. The screen door squeaked open behind us, and I jumped back like a startled rabbit.

It was Brenda, her face a mask of thunder. “Emma,” she hissed, “Get inside. Now.”

Emma cast me a helpless look, then retreated into the house, leaving me standing alone in the cool night air, the echo of her warmth still lingering on my skin, I wanted her so badly, I get it she is my cousin, but I will do anything to have her. I do not care what it takes but I was going to make her mine.

I love Emma and I am going to do whatever it takes to have her.