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tries to never do it when he thinks I'll see him.
    I've walked in on his workouts before and seen him covered in sweat, muscles rippling as he lifts. It happened by accident the first time and he screamed at me but since then I've slipped back to watch him work. The sight of it makes me have thoughts that are definitely not stepbrother appropriate.
    If I'm a loner at school, Samuel is a total rebel. I think he has one friend who's another complete outcast. At least as a book nerd there are a handful of other academics I can claim as friends. Samuel has pretty much no one.
    He's not dressed for prom. He's wearing ripped up jeans, one of which is right below his crotch so that his boxer shorts show. His t-shirt is stretched tight over his chest and his leather biker style jacket is worn down and abused. There's a cigarette dangling out of his mouth.
    "Samuel!" his mother cries out.
    "What?" he growls.
    "You know how I feel about smoking!"
    "Yeah, why in the hell do you think I'm doing it?"
    He stares at her, his deep blue eyes defiant, his mouth set into a line with that nasty thing sticking straight out. He never even inhales just has it jutting out in defiance of his mother. I shake my head at him and he narrows his eyes but says nothing.
    "Well, look at your sister, tell her how beautiful she's," his mother says.
    "She's not my fucking sister," he says.
    "Samuel, I will not tolerate that language in this house!"
    "Whatever," he says turning away to leave. "You look like a hot piece of ass Sis."
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