My Stepbrother, My Enemy {BL}-Chapter 200: Quite The Husband Material, Isn’t He?

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A few minutes later, the conversation quieted down into a stillness typical of when you’ve run out of questions but still haven’t figured everything out. Outside, the soft snow we’d admired before had turned wild-thick flakes swirling viciously against the window, the streetlamp across the street a mere hazy glow in the storm. The wind howled around the corners of the little house, rattling the loose pane in the living room window like it was trying to find a way inside.

Rachel got up to clear the empty water glasses and paused at the curtain, pulling it back just enough to peek outside. "Lord have mercy," she muttered, letting the curtain fall again. "That’s become a full-blown snowstorm. What a bummer you two have to head back out in this mess." She turned to us, worry creasing her brow. "You’ve got a car waiting, right? Something with four-wheel drive at least?"

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish half-smile spreading across his face. "Actually... the SUV broke down a few miles out. The radiator hose gave out. We walked the rest of the way."

Rachel’s hand flew to her chest, and her eyes widened with genuine shock. "You walked? In this? Oh, honey, no. Absolutely not. You’re staying the night here. End of discussion."

I straightened up, already shaking my head. "We really don’t want to intrude. You’ve been so kind letting us crash here-"

"Intrude?" Rachel interrupted, laughing incredulously and waving a dish towel like a white flag. "Sweetheart, there’s no way I’m sending my best friend’s son and his lovely friend back into a blizzard at night. I’m not a monster!" She put her hands on her hips, feigning seriousness. "This place might look like a disaster half the time, but I’ve got a spare bedroom that’s mostly clean, and I’m pretty sure the bed’s big enough for two. You’ll manage. Unless you’re allergic to sharing, of course."

My brain short-circuited, and I felt my face heat up. Sharing a bed. With Adrien. One bed. My mouth opened and closed as I searched for a polite way out. "I-I could totally take the couch! Or the floor, honestly, I’ve got a thick coat, I can just-"

Adrien rolled his eyes so dramatically I thought they might stick to the ceiling, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Noah," he interrupted, his voice warm and amused, "it’s fine. We’re grateful, truly. Thank you, Rachel. We’ll take the room."

Rachel’s face lit up with victorious satisfaction. "There, see? Reasonable adults." She clapped her hands together, already heading toward the kitchen. "Perfect. Now I’ve got to figure out dinner before we all freeze. How do you two feel about macaroni and cheese? It’s basically the only thing I have enough of to feed unexpected guests."

Adrien sprang up without hesitation, stretching his long frame. "Mac and cheese sounds perfect. Let me help you in the kitchen."

Rachel beamed at him as if he’d just offered to wash her car in the storm. "Look at you-handsome and helpful. Joanne would be bragging to everyone she knew." She waved him after her. "Come on, then. You can stir while I dig out the good cheese."

They slipped through the bead curtain, their voices fading into comfortable chatter about pots and whether extra breadcrumbs were a crime or a blessing. I stayed rooted on the couch, still blushing, staring at the faded floral pattern on the cushions as if it might provide me with an emergency exit strategy.

Sharing a bed. With Adrien. Who was currently laughing at something Rachel had said about burning garlic bread last Christmas. Who still smelled faintly of cold air and cedar even after hours indoors. Who I’d been holding hands with not half an hour ago, because comforting him had felt completely natural.

I risked a glance at the old woman in the wheelchair. She hadn’t moved much during our conversation, but now her pale eyes were fixed on me, that same quiet, unreadable intensity. I offered a small, awkward smile. "Uh... hi again."

Of course, she didn’t respond-just kept watching, her fingers folded neatly in her blanket, as if she’d seen a hundred flustered teenage boys on this same couch and was mildly entertained by the repeat performance.

I let out a slow breath, flopping back against the cushions and gazing at the water-stained ceiling. Somewhere in the kitchen, Adrien laughed again, low and genuine, and my stomach did a little flip.

One bed. One room. One snowstorm that showed no signs of letting up.

Tonight was going to be something else.

About twenty minutes later, the rich aroma of melted cheese and buttery breadcrumbs wafted in from the kitchen, and it was so comforting that it made my stomach growl loud enough to break the quiet in the living room.

I could hear Adrien and Rachel chatting through the bead curtain...easy banter about paprika versus cayenne, whether garlic powder was a culinary crime, and how to get those crispy edges on mac and cheese just right. Every now and then, Rachel’s laughter rang out, bright and genuine, suggesting she hadn’t had the chance to cook for friends in a while.

"You know your way around a spice rack, young man," she called out, her voice carrying. "Most boys your age think seasoning just means salt and ketchup. You’re gonna make someone a very happy spouse one day."

I could’ve sworn I heard a little awkward cough from Adrien, followed by the soft sound of a wooden spoon hitting the pot. My head shot up from where I’d been pretending to study a faded cross-stitch on the wall.

Through the beads, I caught a glimpse of him, definitely a bit pinker than he had been just a few minutes ago...quickly turning away from Rachel’s knowing smile. He glanced toward the living room, toward me, like he was checking to see if I’d caught that comment. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

I had. Every single word. And apparently, my face decided to give me away, heating up so fast I probably looked like a tomato in a sweater. I quickly turned back to the cross-stitch, suddenly fascinated by a lopsided rose that’d clearly been stitched by someone with more enthusiasm than skill.

What was happening? My mind was racing. We were step-siblings. We were on some sort of possibly dangerous mystery adventure. I was technically on a break with my actual boyfriend. And here I was, blushing like a middle-schooler over a sweet lady’s offhand remark about Adrien’s future husband potential.

Get it together, Noah!