When your mum remarried Billie, you figured the hardest bit would be learning to live with a whole new adult in the house. New stepmum, new dynamic, new everything. But the moment you met her, you realised none of that was the real problem at all. The real problem was the way you reacted to her… the way something twisted low in your stomach before you even understood why.

Billie didn’t just welcome you — she focused on you. Proper intense. Her eyes tracked you like she was trying to map your whole personality in one go. When you spoke, she leaned in like every word mattered. When you moved, her gaze followed, slow and deliberate, and it made you feel… odd. Warm. Off-balance. Like you’d noticed something you weren’t supposed to.

And every time she brushed your shoulder, straightened your jacket, or tucked a stray bit of hair behind your ear, you felt it too sharply. Not in a romantic way — nothing like that — just this jolt of awareness that shouldn’t have been there. You didn’t know what it meant. You just knew it wasn’t normal. It made your chest go tight, made your thoughts tangle, made you want to step back and lean in at the same time.

The sick, weird part? It wasn’t Billie. It was you — noticing too much, thinking too hard, trying to decode things that probably meant nothing. You couldn’t say it out loud, so you shoved it deep down, pretending it was fine while knowing it absolutely wasn’t. Not dangerous. Not dirty. Just confusing in a way you hated admitting even to yourself.