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I walk over to the kitchen for breakfast and find Blake, my step-father, sitting across the kitchen table. From the looks of it, I guess he has already eaten, so I grab a bowl and fill it with cereal and milk.

“Morning, Sharon,” Blake chimes absentmindedly when he finally notices me, eyes still focused on the newspaper in front of him.

I prop myself on the seat across from him, pretending to be engrossed in a magazine I see on the table while he reads the paper. I tuck into my breakfast. When I look up, though, I catch him looking at me. He nearly drops the paper from how fast he shifts position, pretending.

We're both trying too hard, and it's painfully obvious. I steal glances at him when I think he's not looking, tracing the lines of his face, the wisps of silver hair near his ears, and the way his thick lips pout without effort. It's ridiculous how my heart races just being near him, how every word he speaks feels like a secret I'm not supposed to know.

Is it wrong to want my step-father this much? Sure. Have I tried ignoring the heat that blooms between my thighs whenever we are around each other? Yes. At some point, I stopped feeling guilty about how I feel and just let things be the way they are.

“So, uh, how was your week at school?” Blake puts the paper down and finally breaks the silence, his voice awkward and forced.

“Fine,” I reply, equally stiff. “Yours? I mean, at work.”

“Same old,” he shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.

Before the silence can stretch any longer, Mom walks in dressed for work with a stack of papers cradled in her arms, her usual efficient self. But that’s odd. It’s a public holiday, and she shouldn’t be going to work today.

“Morning.” She lightly pecks my step-father and I look away. “I've got some news.”

I turn back, instantly alert. News in our household usually means changes, and neither of us is particularly fond of surprises.

“I am going on a trip next week,” Mom announces, practically squealing as she spreads the papers out on the table. “I'll be gone for a few days. Can you handle being without me for a couple of days?”

I feel a knot form in my stomach. Alone with Blake? That's a recipe for disaster, considering the way my heart races whenever he's around. I try to keep my expression neutral, but Blake shoots me a quick glance that tells me he's got something on his mind.

“Do you really have to go?” Blake echoes, his voice a flat-out surprise.

Mom nods, oblivious to our tension. “Yes, I do. I won’t be gone for long and I’ll check in often.”

I manage a weak smile, my mind racing with all the possible scenarios of being alone with Blake. What if he can sense my feelings? What if I do something stupid? I stuff my face with cereal and try not to think about it.