CHAPTER EIGHT
Pax
It’s not that we didn’t want our sister. Trust me, we wanted her in the worst possible way, it’s just that there were veiled threats from my dad warning us off. Gordon isn’t usually like this, he’s usually pretty hands-off, the kind of parent who doesn’t ask about personal lives ever.
But something was different this time. Maybe he and Virginia were smarter than we thought, more observant. Because putting a nubile, beautiful teen girl into the path of two dominant, high-testosterone guys? Yeah, you can guess what was going to happen.
So Gordon had a talk with us before Ana moved in.
It was altogether unexpected, my brother and I coming home one day to find dinner waiting. Gordon had whipped up his special Spaghetti Bolognese, a childhood treat. It must have been years since we’d tasted that special sauce and our mouths watered, starving from a grueling practice.
“So how’s school?” asked my dad mildly.
“Good,” I grunted, stuffing myself with garlic bread while reaching for another plate of pasta. Carbs were necessary when you worked out as hard as we did.
“You passing your classes? You know the NCAA has rules about academic eligibility,” he began.
“We’re fine,” snorted Peyton. “We met with Abigail last night, she helped us with chemistry and French.”
Oh right, beautiful Abigail. She’d tutored us in a lot more than those two subjects, judging from her delighted squeals as we rubbed her cunny, her fluids running down our fingers. Thank god there had been no one else at the library late at night, we would have been cited for disturbing the peace.
But my dad wasn’t letting up. He frowned as if reading our minds, and put down his fork.
“Boys, NCAA rules are the real thing,” he ground out. “Jeopardize your eligibility and it’s on you.”
Yeah yeah, this was old news. Gordon did well at his job, but he couldn’t foot the bill for two tuitions at State. So Peyton and I had to do our part by maintaining our scholarships, meet the baseline GPA, something about the college not being able to take below a 2.0. Lame but we’d be able to cross that bar, no problem.
But Gordon was dead serious, intent on driving home his point.
“Listen, this is no joke, you screw up and get your scholarships withdrawn, you think you can afford to stay in school? Think again,” he warned.
“Don’t worry Dad,” responded my brother. “Trust us, we’re fine, we’ve been doing way better in school this year. Besides, the year’s almost done and we’re in no danger. But how about Ana? You think she could lend a hand?” he slipped in. “I hear she’s brainy, maybe she could tutor us.”
My dad should have leapt at the opportunity, after all having a ready-made tutor who worked for free was the stuff of dreams right? One way to help your twin boys maintain their grades at no cost to yourself.
But Gordon took us by surprise and shook his head vehemently.
“No, Ana’s off limits,” he stated.
My brother and I looked up, surprised. Our dad’s a mild guy and any sort of strong emotion is rare for him.
“Really?” asked my brother. “What, is she not the teaching type?” My twin shot me a look, our glances knowing. We’d be teaching her a host of things, doing a lot more than hitting the books.
But my dad was stubborn as a mule, shaking his head.
“No, Ana’s not doing any tutoring,” he stated flatly. “She’s got her obligations just like you have yours,” he reiterated.
“What obligations?” I asked curiously. “She’s transferring senior year, what possible obligations could she have?”
“I don’t know either,” replied Gordon shrugging. “Listen,” he said, “Virginia has made it clear that her daughter’s off-limits to you.”
I sat back.
“What does off-limits mean?” I asked curiously. “Why would your wife even say that?”
“I dunno,” said Gordon seriously, “Her words, not mine. But Virginia’s made it very clear that her daughter’s out of bounds. So cool it with your new sister, okay?”
This was ridiculous, our parents had no idea what had happened at the wedding as far as we knew.
“Sure Dad, no prob,” I said casually, taking another huge bite of noodles. Yeah, that hit the spot, the spices just right, tangy and tasty.
But Gordon sprung the kicker next.
“Virginia has offered to pay your college tuition so long as you behave,” he said quietly. “So careful, okay? Just six months under the same roof.”
Peyton let out a low whistle.
“We fuck up and Virginia won’t write the check?” he asked bluntly, his eyes narrowing.
I half expected my dad to pshaw, to talk around the issue somehow, but he was startlingly direct.
“That’s right,” he confirmed. “Don’t mess this one up, this is real money that we can’t afford to lose. Your new sister is taking the room down the hall from you, don’t get up to your nightly shenanigans.”
And I stifled a laugh, managing not to spit out the red sauce. Because yeah, Peyton and I often took girls upstairs, the noises raucous, the moaning, sighing and gasping going on throughout the night, we’d probably woken my dad a couple times. Not to mention the morning-afters when there’d be a beautiful girl wandering downstairs with a dazed expression, her hair a mess, gingerly sitting down, perched on the chair because her cunny was sore from the double pummel she’d gotten the night before.
So that was what my dad was saying, in his own roundabout way. Bring our evening activities elsewhere. Otherwise, we’d lose the support of our new stepmom and be totally dependent on the generosity of State taxpayers. Given the way public schools were being defunded now, there might be no scholarships at all.
“Sure Dad,” I said. “We’ll keep it down, no worries.”
And Gordon nodded, satisfied.
“Boys, it’s worth a nice check over the years. It’ll let you focus on football instead of worrying about your scholarships.”
And Peyton nodded, catching my eye across the table. We were headed to the NFL and college-level play was merely a stage for us, something we had to do before declaring for the draft.
But yeah, life would be easier if Virginia’s money paved the way.
“No worries, Dad,” growled Pey. “Don’t worry about a thing.”
And we were silent for the rest of the dinner, three hungry men eating our fill. But my mind kept flitting to our stepsister. Could Peyton and I really keep our hands off of her?