Stuck On My Stepbrother by Lilian Vale

don’t want to get a reputation as teacher’s pet…’ Tegan turned back to her work, put on her headphones and began typing.
    I switched on my monitor and entered my password. I tried to think peaceful thoughts. Five new emails: two from tech support, one round-robin, one email confirming my membership to a press images website, and one email from Adam. I ignored the others and clicked on that one.

    Rose,

    Please ensure that you eat the following today:

    Lunch
    Tuna pasta salad (no mayonnaise)
    Wholemeal roll
    Banana

    Snack
    Flapjack (oats and raisins - no chocolate)

    Dinner
    Chicken and vegetable stir-fry (sweet and sour)
    Brown rice
    Yoghurt

    Bedtime (10 p.m.)
    Hot chocolate

    Sincerely,

    A.
    CEO at Global Media Inc.

    I know I’d agreed that Adam would help me out with this, but seeing it there on my screen, in black-and-white, it felt strange. I did have a problem with food. I’d always had one. It’s not that I was anorexic, I was just terrible at remembering to eat. I always seemed to get distracted, there always seemed to be something else to do that seemed more important. A couple of years ago, I was diagnosed with anemia. It hadn’t progressed to a very serious stage, but the doctor gave me some iron pills and told me to change my diet. More leafy green veg, meat, fish, brown rice, nuts seeds and pulses. I’d been determined to sort myself out on the way home from the doctor’s surgery, to buy myself a nice big steak and some curly kale. But, as always, I forgot. And I kept on forgetting. I still took iron supplements every day, and my health was back to normal, but I did find myself getting pale and tired very easily these days, and I knew I needed to be more careful, to avoid complications in the future…
    So perhaps, as weird as it was, I’d give it a go. As I read over the words in the email, all those delicious-sounding food-words, I actually felt my mouth begin to water. I felt something else too. A deep, warm thrill, somewhere in my core. It felt kind of amazing. Someone was telling me what to do; exactly how to live my life – what to eat, how much work to do, when to go to bed. I’d normally go to bed at eleven or even twelve, if I got distracted reading a good book, or watching a movie, and yet now, I had clear instructions. Adam knew what was best for me, and he was expecting me to carry out his instructions to the letter.
    I felt another thrill at the thought he might be watching me somehow. Observing me to check I was obeying him. I’d never had this sort of attention from someone before. It felt oddly exciting.
    Tegan glanced over at my screen and I minimized my inbox, hiding the email, and bringing up a boring Word document about planning permission instead. It was for some non-story I’d been asked to research, just to keep me busy while I was still learning the ropes.
    Tegan looked away again, and continued typing. Why did I feel the need to hide Adam’s email? Did I feel, deep down, that there was something wrong with it? Or did I enjoy knowing that I was keeping a secret? I wasn’t sure.
    I had thought, briefly, as I got into the elevator after leaving Adam’s office this morning, that I might tell Patrick about this. But I’d very quickly decided against it. I’d felt myself pull away from Patrick once Adam saw us in the street. I feel like, if we hadn’t seen him that night, we might have carried on drinking, and maybe I’d have ended up sharing a drunken kiss with him… But seeing Adam standing there, so tall and erect, his moody eyes fixed on me, had made me want to keep my distance from Patrick.  
    I’d started thinking about Adam, too. I’d started thinking about him every time I took a shower, and in the moments before I fell asleep in bed. I thought about him as I took the subway into work, feeling the seat vibrating beneath me, sending shivers up and down my thighs, across my abdomen, into the recesses between my legs. I knew I wasn’t meant to think about