Stepbrother Broken (The Hawthorne Brothers Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

change for our big night out, each of us heading off to
our own dorm rooms. If our school had co-ed dorms, we ’ d definitely be roommates by now. But I guess that ’ ll have to wait until we ’ re
living the dream in New York City together. And by “ dream ” I mean sharing a tiny shoebox
apartment, working four restaurant jobs each, and maybe getting to audition for
something once a month, of course.
    My
actual roommate, a very quiet bio major named Kim, doesn ’ t seem to be home — which means I get to blast my music
as I get ready for tonight. I plop down in front of my laptop and put on some
MGMT, singing along as I give my social media pages and email a cursory
once-over. Just as I ’ m about to close my laptop and get
dressed, a new message pops up in my inbox. It ’ s
from an address I ’ ve never seen before, and the
subject line simply reads: “ Re: Our Conversation ” . I click on the email absentmindedly and begin to
read …
     
    Hey
Sophie,
     
    I
wanted to follow up with you after our conversation yesterday afternoon. It
wasn ’ t my intention to discourage you. I do think that you ’ re a very
promising student, but I also feel that it ’ s my responsibility as your teacher to hold you to
the standard of excellence, I ’ m sure you can meet if you put your mind to it. I
know that your heart is set on performing at this point in your life, but I
urge you to keep an open mind. Based on the assignments that you actually
turned in for my class, and your contributions to our classroom discussions
(however rare they may have been), I can tell you have a sharp, entrepreneurial
intellect. Don ’ t let it go to waste.
     
    Best,
    Lukas
Hawthorne
     
    I
sit back in my desk chair, fuming as I stare at Luke ’ s message. How can one person be so simultaneously
aggravating and encouraging? So condescending while voicing a vote of
confidence? One thing is for sure. I don ’ t have the time to parse Luke ’ s intentions for writing this little note before happy
hour is over. Instead of replying to my esteemed professor, I forward his note
to Danny, including a few thoughts of my own:
     
    Can
you believe this prick?  I may have spent every one of his lectures fantasizing
about him nailing me to the wall and
fucking me dirty, but this is too much. Someone needs to finally leave Sheridan
and get his ass handed to him in the real world before doling out life advice,
am I right?
     
    Satisfied
with my retort, I crank the music up even louder and get down to business. It
isn ’ t often I get excited about going
out around here, but I have a feeling tonight ’ s
going to be one for the books. And I, for one, intend to look awesome for it.
     
    ***
     
    “ Here it is, ” I breathe, grabbing Danny ’ s arm as our cab rolls to a stop.
    “ Are you kidding me? ” he says flatly, squinting through the car window.
    “ What? So it ’ s a little edgier than the places we usually go …”
    “ A butter knife is edgy, ” Danny hisses, “ This place looks fucking dangerous. ”
    Our
cab is idling in front of a long, low building, with a rough-hewn wooden
exterior and corrugated tin roof. A sign above the door proudly proclaims that
the establishment is called The Bear Trap. A quick internet search of nearby
dive bars led Danny and I to its door, though one of us seems far more
enthusiastic about this little plan now that we ’ re
here.
    “ I ’ m
sure it ’ ll be fine, ” I assure Danny, handing the cab driver his money and
stepping out onto the curb.
    “ Maybe for you, ” he mopes, standing beside me as the car pulls away. “ You ’ re a smoking hot babe. I get the
feeling that this place may not be as hospitable to pretty boys like myself. ”
    “ Then you ’ ll just have to stick with me, won ’ t you? ” I smile, lacing my fingers
encouragingly though Danny ’ s.
    His
outfit for tonight does skew a little more glam than usual, though mine is more
in the grungy direction. While Danny rocks his