Claire

2012

By the time I get home, Bri’s party has gone from just a few friends to totally insane. Like every high school party you’ve ever seen in a John Hughes film, insane. I have to park three blocks away and walk back. Even so, I’m not worried about the cops showing up. Our house is on a huge lot, set back off the street and the neighborhood is patrolled by private security. The most that will happen is one of them will pull up in his golf cart and tell us to keep it inside.

Besides, we’re all graduating seniors—most of us are eighteen. And the police chief’s son is doing kegstands in the kitchen. We’re practically untouchable.

I push my way through the front door, weaving myself through the rowdy crush of people trying to find my sister. I get waylaid by her ex-boyfriend and his merry band of jockstraps, listening while he goes on and on about how even though he dated Bri, it was really me he was into the whole time. That’s about the time I start laughing and tell him he’s full of shit before walking away.

I spot Bri in the living room, holding court on the couch. As usual, she’s in her element. Surrounded by admirers. Laughing and talking. Flirting and teasing. Not wanting to fight my way across the crowd, I tap out a quick text instead.

Me: I’m home.

It’s rare that I feel jealous of her, but I feel it now. Just a twinge. On its heels follows a wave of guilt. It’s not my sister’s fault she’s better than me in almost every way. Prettier. Smarter. More confident. More likable.

It’s not her fault but sometimes that doesn’t matter. Sometimes it just sucks.

As soon as she gets my text, her head comes up and swivels, looking for me. She spots me, waving me over before pushing on the shoulder of the guy sitting beside her, telling him to move so I can sit next to her.

I shake my head and she rolls her eyes. Just because she knows I don't like parties, doesn't mean she understands why.

Bri: How was dinner?

The question heats my cheeks. I want to tell her what happened. That Jaxon kissed me. More than kissed me. That he’s coming over. But I don’t. For all her eggplant emojis, Bri is protective of me. If she knew what happened, she’d kick everyone out, just so she can talk to me about it. And I don’t want to talk about it. I’m afraid if I say anything out loud, none of it will have been real.

Me: Good.

I’ll tell you

all about it

in the morning.

Going to bed.

As soon as she reads my text, she looks up at me and shakes her head. I point upward, telling her I’m just going to go upstairs. I know she means well, but watching people fawn all over her while fighting off her sloppy seconds is the last thing I want to do.

She frowns at me before looking at her phone. The text comes through a few seconds later.

Bri: Front stairs

are blocked.

Bri has throwing parties down to a science. She locks away valuable in our dad’s home office. She blocks the front stairs to keep people from going upstairs. She’s surprisingly responsible about it all, considering there are half-naked people running around.

Bri: No watching

My Fair Lady

without me.

Every once in a while instead of going out with friends, Bri’ll stay home with me and watch movies. Her favorite is My Fair Lady. She says she has nothing better to do, but I think she just feels sorry for me and gets tired of getting turned down when she invites me to tag along.

I laugh, and she blows me a kiss before I turn and head for the kitchen. Tucked away in the butler’s pantry is the back staircase, manned by a locked door. Like the rest of the locks in the house, it’s one of those fancy ones that takes either a key or code. Handy when Bri locks herself in our Jack and Jill bathroom for hours on end.

Keying in the code, I unlock the door and head upstairs, the insanity downstairs fading to a dull roar with each step I mount. As usual, blocking the front staircase worked. No one is up here but me.

It’s been about an hour since I left Jaxon’s house and I haven’t heard from him. To be fair, he never actually said he was coming over. He might’ve gotten caught up with his mom. He might’ve fallen asleep. He might’ve come to his senses and realized a girl like me isn’t worth his time or effort.

In my room, I strip out of my clothes and toss them in my hamper—I was downstairs for a whole fifteen minutes, and I’m already covered in beer—debating on a shower before I decide I’m too tired. If Jaxon’s not coming over, then what’s the point? I settle for washing my face and brushing my teeth, pulling on an old pair pajamas.

Leaving the bathroom, I turn off the overhead lights and switch on my reading lamp. Choosing a case from the row of Blu-rays in my collection, I pop it into my player.

I’m snuggled into bed with the lights off and the movie cued, but I don’t really want to watch it. What happened with Jaxon has been playing on a constant loop in my head. What he said. The way he touched me. The way his mouth felt against my neck. The strain of his hard cock, working and flexing against my throbbing center, fucking me through our clothes. Now that I’m not moving, focusing on the next thing I have to do, it all pushes its way to the front of my brain, so real, so vivid, I can feel my pussy start to pulse and swell. I’d be on the edge of an orgasm when we’d had to stop, and it left me feeling achy. Needy.

Closing my eyes, I let my hand slip past the waistband of my pajama bottoms, brushing between my legs, along the outside of my panties. I’m so swollen, so sensitive, the slightest touch makes me gasp. I draw my fingertips up the seam of my slit, the press of them instantly soaking the crotch of my panties...

My phone lets out a chirp, the sound of it so loud it startles me.

Expecting a don’t be lame, come back downstairs text from Bri, my heart leaps at my throat, getting stuck there when I see a text from a number I recognize.

Jaxon: I’m outside

your house.