Big Bro

REGGIE rested her chin on the window ledge of the old Toyota, pretending she was bored. But her eyes stayed glued to the university gym across the street, that huge wall of glass separating her boring little world from his.

Through the wide glass windows, Jackson moved around the gym. That was all she cared about. He didn’t just run drills or bark out instructions. He moved like he owned the damn place. Even during simple warm-ups, there was something about the way he carried himself; all confidence, control, and that restless energy that made people look twice.

He wasn’t movie-star handsome. His jaw was a little too stubborn, his nose slightly crooked from some old high-school hockey fight, and his dark hair was always a mess when not in braids, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. But when he moved, none of that mattered. He didn’t need to be handsome. He was just impossible not to watch.

She had looked up to him for as long as she could remember. It was just a part of her life, as natural as breathing. When she was a kid, it was simple. Jackson was her hero, the older brother who had stepped in after their parents’ divorce and never really stepped back out. He taught her how to throw a football and tie a proper knot. He showed up to every school play, fixed her bike, and scared off the first boy who ever tried to kiss her. Back then, everything felt easy and safe.

Now, at eighteen, things weren’t so simple anymore.

The admiration was still there, but it had changed into something she didn’t want to examine too closely. Something that made her chest feel tight whenever he was around, and her stomach twist in ways she couldn’t explain. She would never admit it to anyone, not her best friend, not even in the privacy of her diary.

Watching Jackson didn’t feel the same as watching anyone else. It wasn’t just admiration anymore. It was awareness. The kind she could feel deep in her chest every time he laughed, smiled, or walked into a room.

The old Toyota’s vinyl seat felt suddenly too warm, the air too thin. She traced a pattern on the dusty window ledge, counting the seconds until he was finished. She knew his routine, his schedule, the exact moment his practice ended. It was a secret, obsessive map of his life she held in her head.

Jackson suddenly looked up, not at her or the car, just out toward the street, like he could somehow feel her staring at him.

Reggie ducked fast. It was such a stupid reflex, like a kid caught stealing candy. She dropped below the window and pressed her hot cheek against the cracked dashboard. Her heart was pounding like crazy, loud enough to feel in her ears.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. She was supposed to be at the library studying.

A moment later, the driver’s door yanked open with a groan of old metal.

There he was.

The second he climbed in, the little car suddenly felt even smaller. He was all restless energy, barely sitting still. His dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck. His chest was still heaving from practice, and his gray shirt clung to his broad shoulders and solid build. The smell of sweat, soap, and that familiar Jackson scent filled the cramped car, making the space feel even tighter.

“Hey, baby, close that damn window. Who the hell ya lookin’ at, huh?” His voice was rough, still carrying that post-practice edge. He tossed his heavy gym bag into the back seat.

“Huh? Ah… I was just—” she stammered, slowly pulling the window up.

“Just?! Don’t tell me it’s Gio. Don’t you dare tell me that idiot’s your boyfriend.” His brows shot up, his eyes narrowing. The warning in his voice came fast, sharp, and possessive.

Reggie burst out laughing, all that nervous tension finally breaking. “Jackson, seriously? You’re crazy. He’s just my lab partner.”

“I don’t give a damn who the fuck he is. I swear, if I catch you riding around on that rusty-ass bike of his, I’ll smash the damn thing in half.” He dropped into the driver’s seat, moving way too fast and rough for the tiny car.

The familiar flip in her stomach hit her harder than she expected. She knew she shouldn’t enjoy it. His jealousy, that fierce and almost ridiculous protectiveness, was manipulative and irrational. But damn it, she did. She loved that sharp, demanding edge in his voice whenever it came to her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, a purely childish gesture to keep the conversation safe. “What if I like riding his bike?”

“Then you’re grounded till you’re twenty-five.” He reached across the console, his large hand moving effortlessly, and flicked her ear.

“Ow! Stop it!” She swatted his arm, then reached for revenge, pulling at the long, damp strands of his hair near his neck.

“Yah, don’t mess with me, brat—” He grabbed her wrist, his grip immediate and inescapable, pulling her across the console toward him.

Their messing around quickly turned into their usual wrestling match. He was laughing, that low, deep sound in his throat, as he tried to pin her shoulder against the seat. Reggie fought back, all tangled limbs and breathless, fake anger, until…

Rrrip.

The sudden sound of fabric tearing was loud in the cramped car.

Reggie froze.

Three small, pearlized buttons shot off her blouse and rattled against the vinyl floor. The front of her thin cotton shirt gaped open, the white, lacy curve of her bra and the soft swell of her skin on full display.

Jackson froze. His laugh died on the spot.

“Shit! This is your fault. You were being way too rowdy!” he blurted, his sudden loud voice hiding the panic underneath. He let go of her wrist like he’d touched a hot stove.

“What the hell!” Her cheeks burned. She was completely embarrassed, scrambling to cover herself.

“You’re too rowdy, I told you! Here!” He violently yanked the red team shirt, the one he always threw over the seat and shoved the soft cotton bundle at her chest. “Wear this before somebody sees, Reggie, damn it!”

She snatched the shirt, her fingers trembling a little, but the humiliation was quickly giving way to something else; a calculated, dangerous curiosity. He was flustered, angry, and avoiding her eyes.

Instead of slipping the loose shirt on, she peeled the ruined blouse off her shoulders… slow, too slow, a bit sensual, and entirely aimed at him. She didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the empty glass of the windshield.

She felt his gaze land on her. It didn’t just look; it hovered, heavy and hot, for one agonizing, endless heartbeat.

Then, with a visible strain, he snapped his head away. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping visibly. His knuckles gripped the steering wheel so hard the veins in his forearms popped, a network of blue lines against the damp skin. Reggie’s lips curved into a small, secret smile.

Got you.

“Reggie, hurry up,” he snapped, his voice a raw, strained sound that was noticeably harsher than before. “What, you showing your boobs to the whole damn street now? Damn it! Hurry!”

“Wait a sec!” she teased, her voice breathy, laughing as she stretched her arms above her head in a long, intentional movement that pulled the bra up, tightening the thin lace against her skin.

He let out a low grunt, cursing under his breath, then leaned across the console again. This time, he was dead set on getting the shirt on her, practically shoving it over her. His big hands brushed her bare shoulders as he hurried, movements quick and kinda rough.

His breath brushed her cheek, hot, angry, and smelling of sweat and soap and a desperate lack of control. She felt the heat radiating off his body, the intense proximity overwhelming her senses.

And then, low, ragged, a sound of defeat that was never, ever meant for her ears, but she heard it…

“I’m getting… I’m getting... hard over you, Reggie. Damn it, baby… Stop! Stop it!”

Reggie froze.

The red team shirt was half-on, covering her chest, but the words felt like they were branding her bare skin.

Silence swallowed the car, thick and suffocating, interrupted only by the ticking of the cooling engine.

Jackson finished pulling the shirt fully over her head in one powerful motion, sat back hard against his seat, and stared straight out the windshield. He looked like a man desperately trying to memorize the pattern of the asphalt. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his fists clenched so tightly on the wheel that his whole body was shaking.

Reggie bit the inside of her lip, hiding the wild, excited grin that threatened to break free. Her heart didn’t just beat; it banged, a frantic, joyful drum against her ribs.

So he did see her that way. The barrier of “big brother” was gone, gone by three small, broken buttons. He saw her, and he wanted her.

The silence stretched, charged and dangerous, a bridge they had just crossed. He still wouldn’t look at her, but she didn’t need him to. The words were burned into the space between them.

She reached down, pulling the large, soft red shirt down over her thighs. It smelled like him, like clean sweat and addiction. It was the first gift of their secret life.

“I’m wearing your shirt,” she whispered, testing the sound of her voice in the dead quiet.

"Don't!" His eyes snapped closed for a fraction of a second. “Don’t, okay," he muttered, his voice still low and strained.

“Don’t what?” she challenged, leaning toward him, testing her newfound power.

He finally turned his head, his eyes burning into hers. They were dark, intense, and filled with a reckless warning that thrilled her to the core.

“Don’t mess with me, Reggie. Don’t push this.” His voice came out rough, almost scraped raw. “I didn’t mean to say that. It doesn’t change a fuckin' thing.”

But his hands didn’t move from the wheel. He made no move to stop her.

Reggie let the grin finally bloom on her face. “Okay, Big Bro.”

The words came out with a new meaning that made her heart jump.

He cursed under his breath, sharp and low. Then he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot without even looking back.

Reggie didn’t care where they were going. Whatever this was, it had already started.

To be continued…

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Author's Note:

This story contains mature themes, intimate scenes, and a forbidden romance between characters who were raised as family but are not biologically related. Please proceed only if you are comfortable with these themes.