Dahlia POV
I didn't sleep.
I lay on the antique bed in the DC house staring at the ceiling, replaying every second of the afternoon up until the memories blurred into one long, mortifying loop. What was stagnant was Davis's stupid smirk and the way his voice sounded when he said sister. Another was the crack of my palm against his cheek and the heat I felt that had nothing to do with the anger when he leaned to remind me exactly how I had sounded when he was inside me.
By the time the first light crept through the curtains, I had decided three things;
One: I would never, under any circumstance, be caught alone with David Sterling again.
Two: I would treat this entire engagement like a temporary inconvenience and get through the summer with perfect, icy politeness, just enough to please my father.
Three: I would not think about the way his mouth had felt on mine.
Easier said than done because I failed number three before the end of breakfast.
Stella was already in the kitchen when I came downstairs, barefoot, in a soft cashmere robe that somehow managed to look expensive even at seven in the morning. She smiled at me the way people smile when they see nervous animals.
"Good morning, Dahlia. Did you sleep at all?"
"Fine," I lied as I looked towards the table. My father was already sitted reading something on his tablet, while his coffee remained untouched. He glanced up, gave me the brief morning assessment he usually used on staffers then returned to his screen.
"We'll leave for Newport this afternoon," he said. "The house has been prepared for our arrival and David will be joining us for the summer as well. I expect everyone to behave like good upstanding citizens and I mean adults by that regard."
The coffee I hadn't poured yet into my mug suddenly tasted bitter in my imagination.
Like a moth drawn to a flame, David appeared in the doorway as if he was summoned by the sound of his own name. he wore last night's clothes, or something close enough—black jeans, a faded band tee with the same careless posture tat made every one in the room feel smaller or that's what I thought. I continued to stare at him and noticed a faint red mark which still lingered on his cheek.
He looked at me, then stared into the mirror as he noticed the mark, then looked back at me, and I could swear I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
"Morning beautiful family."
Stella's smile tightened a little as she spoke. "David, nice of you to join us. Sit and eat something."
David poured himself coffee, and leaned against the counter instead of sitting. His eyes wandered a bit as he was examining something then found mine over the rim of the mug.
I looked away first. I didn't wasn't to elicit anything that would make my father angry.
The ride to the airport was silent except for the soft clicks of my father's tablet and the occasional shifts of Stella's bracelets. David sat across from me in the private car, legs sprawled like a mantis, watching the city slide past as if none of this doesn't bother him. Every few minutes here and there, I could feel his gaze settle on the side of my face. I kept my eyes on my phone, answering Rachel's messages with careful half-truths.
Rachel: How bad is it?
Me: Worse.
Rachel: You can be pretty dramatic. What is your definition of worse this time?
Me: Um, is David Sterling being my new stepbrother not the ultimate death sentence.
Rachel: …holy shit. Are you okay?
Me: No.
I put the phone face-down on my lap before she could ask the next question.
Newport looked the same as it always had – white houses, the air which tasted like salt, and everywhere looking like old money. The summer house sat on a rise overlooking the water, all weathered shingles and wide porches. The car got packed and I found my way inside like I was being pursued but in reality, I just wanted to be as far away from David like three seconds ago.
I stepped inside and everything smelled of lemon polish and ocean sand. I got into my room and it was exactly the way I had left. The walls were still painted pale blue, my framed certificates were still placed in strategic positions on the walls and the shelves and my desk was a mess with a bunch of college applications that never made it to the schools.
I was sure David would be given the guest suite at the opposite end of the hall. It still felt too close.
The first evening of getting there, Stella tried to be homely. She ordered takeout from the place my mother used to love, set the table with actual clothe napkins, and asked polite questions about Yale and graduation. My father also discussed campaign logistics in the same tone he used for military briefings. David on the other hand, ate in silence which was weird than his usual ramblings for me, but he didn't last long as he stood up and disappeared onto the back porch with a sandwich and his flask
I followed him. I had to only because the alternative was sitting at the table while my father explained the importance of a unified family image for the upcoming announcement.
The screen door creaked as I opened it but he didn't turn around.
"Come to slap me again, Flower?"
"Don't call me that."
He exhaled smoke toward the dark water and I realized the cigarette that was lit between his fingers. "Then don't look at me like you still want a reboot of that night."
I crossed my arms. "I'm not"
"Liar."
The word landed soft and accurate. I hate him for it. I hated myself more.
"We need rules," I said.
He finally looked at me. The porch light caught the hazel in his eyes and for a second they looked almost gold. "Rules?"
"Yes. No touching, no flirting, no reminding me of… anything. We pretend that night never happened. We're stepsiblings now. That's all."
David took a long drag, looked at the cigarette, crushed it on the railing and threw it on to the ground out. "And if I don't agree?"
"Then I'll tell my father exactly what happened between us, twist some scenes, and watch him ruin your life."
It was a bluff. We both knew it. My father finding out would destroy more than David's reputation. It would destroy everything my father had built, everything I was supposed to protect for a political agreement. Still, it was the only threat I could think of at the moment and it has to work.
David stepped closer. Not close enough to touch me but close enough that I could perceive the smell of the smoke and the faint trace of whatever cologne he wore that night in the hotel.
"You know Yale, you are pretty adorable when you threaten people." His voice dropped. "But you and I both know you are not going to say a word. Because if you do, you would have to admit out loud that you asked for it. That you wanted it. That you came so hard you scratched the hell out of my shoulders and then snuck out like a thief the next morning."
My pulse was loud in my ears. "Stay away from me," I whispered.
He smiled, slow and mean and somehow still beautiful. "Can't. We are family now."
He brushed past me on the way back inside. His shoulder grazed mine like a deliberate action and the contact burned all the way down to my bones.
I stayed on the porch until the ocean air cooled the heat in my face. When I finally went back upstairs, the hallway light under David's door was still on meaning his door was slightly open.
I entered my room, closed the door, locked it, and pressed my forehead against the wood.
This summer was going to kill me.
And the worst part was that I had broken all the rules I had for myself at the beginning of the day. How on earth was I going to stick to another set of rules with the quiet, traitorous way a part of me was feeling expecting the next time he looked at me like that?