"Noah," she said to me sharply. "My name is Noah."
I found it funny the way she shot me a death glare. My new stepsister looked offended that I didn't give a damn what her name or her mother's name was, although I had to admit that I did remember her mother. How could I not, when for the last three months she had spent more time in this house than I had myself — because yes, Rafaella Morgan had gotten into our lives.
"Isn't that a boy's name?" I asked, knowing that would annoy her. "No offense, of course," I added when I saw her honey-colored eyes open even wider.
"Well yes, but it's also a girl's name," she answered a second later. I watched as her eyes moved from me to Thor, my dog, and I couldn't help but smile again. "Surely in your short vocabulary there is no such word as unisex," she added this time without looking at me.
Thor wouldn't stop growling and baring his teeth at her. It wasn't his fault; we had trained him to distrust strangers. It would only take one word from me for him to go back to being the affectionate dog he always was... but it was too much fun watching the look of fear on my new little sister's face to put an end to my entertainment just yet.
"Don't worry, I have a very extensive vocabulary," I said, closing the fridge and really facing the girl. "In fact, there is a magic word my dog loves. It starts with A, then TA, and ends with CA."
Fear crossed her face and I had to stifle a laugh. Then I began to take a closer look at her appearance.
She was tall — probably around one sixty-eight or one seventy, I wasn't sure. She was also thin, and she wasn't missing anything, you had to admit that, but her face was so childish that any lustful thought toward her was instantly disqualified. If I had heard correctly, she hadn't even finished high school yet, and that was clear from her short shorts, her white T-shirt, and her black Converse. She only needed to have her hair tied in a ponytail and she could have passed for the typical teenager you see impatiently waiting to buy the next album of some fifteen-year-old singer who happens to be trendy.
But what most caught my attention was her hair. It was a very strange color, somewhere between dark blonde and redhead. It had so many tones that it could have been dyed, but it wasn't — it was obvious that it was natural. She wore it long, falling over her chest all the way down to the middle of her waist. I had never seen hair like that before.
"How funny," she said with irony, though completely terrified. "Get him out of here, it looks like he's going to kill me any second," she said, taking a step back. At the same moment she did, Thor took a step forward.
Good boy, I thought to myself. Maybe my new stepsister could use a little scare, a special welcome, just so she understood whose house this was and how unwelcome she was to me.
"Thor, forward," I told my dog with authority. Noah looked at the dog first and then at me, taking another step back. Too bad she backed straight into the kitchen wall.
Thor slowly advanced toward her, showing his fangs and growling. It was quite scary, but I knew he wasn't going to do anything to her — not unless I gave him the order.
"Stop!" she screamed, looking me straight in the eye. She was so scared...
And then she did something I didn't expect.
She turned, grabbed a frying pan that was hanging there, and raised it with every intention of hitting my dog.
"Thor, come here!" I ordered immediately, just as she raised the pan.
My dog instantly obeyed and she missed the swing.
What the hell...?
"What the hell were you about to do?" I snapped at her, still unable to believe she had been about to hit my dog. I took a step forward. I hadn't expected her to defend herself at all...
"You're an asshole!" she shouted at me then, stepping toward me with the frying pan still in her hand. I grabbed her wrist just in time to keep her from giving me a solid whack on the shoulder. Thor barked behind me but didn't attack.
This girl was completely unpredictable, and even though I had her by the wrist, somehow she still managed to hit my arm with the pan.
All right, that was enough.
I yanked the pan out of her hands with force and pushed her against the fridge. I was at least a head taller than her, but I didn't mind bending down to her height.
"First: let this be the last time you attack my dog. And second," I said, locking my eyes on hers — a part of my brain noticing the small freckles on her nose and cheeks — "don't hit me again, because then we really will have a problem."
She looked at me strangely. Her eyes focused on me and then dropped to my hands, which, I realized, had somehow ended up on her waist.
"Let go of me right now," she said with incredible coldness.
I took my hands off her body and stepped back. My breathing had quickened, and I had no idea why. I had already had enough of her for one day — and I had only met her five minutes ago.
"Welcome to the family, little sister," I said, turning my back to her, grabbing my sandwich off the counter, and heading for the door.
"Don't call me that. I'm not your sister or anything like it," she exclaimed behind me. She said it with such hatred and sincerity that I turned around to look at her again. Her eyes shone with determination, and then I knew that she was just as thrilled as I was that our parents had ended up together.
Although, on second thought... what was I saying? She had gone from living in a dump of an apartment to one of the largest houses in one of the best neighborhoods in the Los Angeles suburbs. She, just like her mother, were gold-diggers who only wanted to get my father's money — and I was supposed to put up with this attitude on top of it?
"On that we agree... little sister," I repeated, narrowing my eyes and enjoying how her little hands curled into fists.
Just then I heard noise behind me. I turned and came face-to-face with my father... and his wife.
"I see you two have met," my father said, walking into the kitchen with a grin from ear to ear. It had been a very long time since I had seen him smile like that, and deep down it made me happy to see him that way — and that he had rebuilt his life. Though somewhere along the way, he had left something behind: me.
Rafaella smiled warmly at me from the doorway and I forced myself to pull a sort of grimace, the closest thing to a smile that woman was going to get from me. I had nothing against her — in fact, she seemed nice, and she was hot. I could understand what my father saw in her: long legs, blonde, light-colored eyes, good curves... the kind of woman I liked and used whenever I felt like it. But I wasn't happy at all about having to open my private life to two strangers, especially if they were women.
Even though my father and I didn't have any kind of brilliant or affectionate relationship, I had been completely fine with him building that wall that kept us separated from the outside world. What had happened with my mother had marked both of us — but especially me, since I was the son who had to watch her walk away without looking back.
Since then, I had distrusted women. I wanted nothing to do with them unless it was to sleep with them or have some fun at parties. What else would I want them for?
"Noah, have you seen Thor?" Rafaella asked her daughter, who was still standing by the counter, unable to hide her bad mood.
"Do you mean the crazy dog that was about to kill me?" she replied, directing her eyes at mine.
I was surprised she didn't immediately run to tattle to her mother.
"What are you talking about? He's a sweetheart," Rafaella replied, and then I watched as my dog approached her, wagging his tail happily.
I looked on impassively, knowing I couldn't do anything to make my dog hate that woman.
Then Noah did something that threw me off. She took a step forward, crouched down, and started calling Thor.
"Thor, come here, come on, pretty boy..." she said, speaking to him sweetly and kindly. I had to admit she was at least brave. Less than a second ago she had been trembling in fear of this very dog.
My dog turned toward her, wagging his tail energetically. He turned his head toward me, then toward her again, and must have sensed that something was wrong, because I had gone so serious that even the animal picked up on it.
With his tail tucked between his legs, he approached me, sitting down at my side and leaving my stepsister completely at a loss.
"Good boy," I said with a big smile.
Noah shot to her feet, glaring at me through her thick eyelashes, then turned to her mother.
"I'm going to bed," she said firmly.
I was about to do the same — or rather, the complete opposite, since there was a party on the beach that night and I had to be there.
"I'm going out tonight, don't wait up for me," I said, feeling strange speaking in the plural.
Just as I was about to head out of the kitchen, my father stopped both me and my little stepsister.
"Tonight we're all going out to dinner together," he said, looking especially at me.
You've got to be kidding me.
"Dad, I'm sorry. But I already have plans and..."
"I'm very tired from the trip and I..."
"It's our first family dinner and I want you both there," my father said, interrupting both of us.
Beside me, Noah exhaled all the air she had been holding at once.
"Can't we go tomorrow?" she argued.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I have a very important trial and I don't know what time I'll get back," my father replied.
The way he addressed her was so strange... come on, he barely knew her. I was already in college, did whatever I wanted — in other words, I was an adult. But Noah? Please, she would be the nightmare of any newlywed couple.
"Noah, we're having dinner together and that's final, end of discussion," Rafaella said, pinning her light-colored eyes on her daughter.
I decided it would be better to give in this time. I would have dinner with them, then go to Anna's house — my... special friend, to put it nicely — and afterward we would go to the party.
Noah mumbled something unintelligible, walked between the two of them, and headed toward the living room that would take her to the main hall where the stairs were.
"Give me half an hour to shower," I said, pointing at my sweaty clothes.
My father nodded with satisfaction, his wife smiled, and I realized I was being the responsible child that night…or so I was making them believe.