19. Erik
CHAPTER NINETEEN
erik
Nineteen-Years-Old
I sweep the curtain to the side, staring down from her bedroom window.
She is walking down the path, a little skip in her step, her hair bouncing as it does when it’s in a high ponytail like that.
I remember wrapping my fist around it once while we were watching the Brady Bunch.
I remember how she kept her eyes on the TV.
I cut to the person beside her, some fucker holding two bags. I look at her—no bag. Glare at him—two bags.
I flatten my hand to the glass. She suddenly stops in the middle of the driveway, glancing over her shoulder, then forward, then her eyes lift to the window I am standing in.
Her lips part when she sees me. Slowly, she raises her hand and waves at me, just once, and smiles.
That’s all I get?
After my first semester at university? Been away from her for months, and that is all I get. A wave. A smile. I press my fingers harder into the glass.
She grabs her bag from the fucker, gives him a half cuddle, the kind where only one side of your body touches the other person, and that is part of her body now pressed to that fucker and she isn’t flinching.
She walks into the house.
The fucker looks up at me.
I don’t move, just look at him with my fingers pressing on the glass. That’s right. I’m her brother. That’s my little sister.
He takes two steps back and then turns and walks away, his spine straight as if he can feel my eyes cutting into it. Good. He should feel that. He should feel that for a long time.
I turn and study her room again. She said it hasn’t changed, but it has.
Her bed has moved closer to the window. Why?
That’s dangerous. I cross to it and grip the frame, dragging it back to where it belongs, back against the other wall.
Better. And she has new sheets. Not the kitten ones I got her for Christmas two years ago, but daisies.
They remind me of that hill where she grew up without me, with that other boy. The one she won’t speak about…
I pull the sheet flat and smooth it down. I’ll do something to them, maybe. I step back and look at the room. It’s almost right now. Almost.
My fingers curl into fists. As I leave her room, I hear feet coming up the stairs.
I block the top level, gazing down at her. She stops with one foot on a higher step, one on a lower, her eyes lifted to me, looking through her lashes. “Hello to you, too.”
“Who was that?”
She blinks. “You’re back.”
“Who was that, Blesk?”
Her feet shuffle. “My chemistry partner.”
“He had your bag.”
“I... well, yeah.”
“He doesn’t need to carry your bag.”
She grips the strap of her bag. “I know. It’s heavy.” She frowns up at me, her eyes darting to her bedroom door behind me, then to my fists. “Why are you so moody? Taken one too many philosophy lectures or something?”
I look at her mouth when she says that. “Or something.”
She shifts again. “Aren’t you happy to see me, Erik? You… you’ve been gone for months.”
I study the little hollow at the base of her throat.
I’ve been burning for you.
I’ve been in pain.
I can’t get hard…
“Did you miss me?” I ask, not answering her just yet, because my heart is still thrashing from seeing her bed repositioned, the daisy sheets, and the fucker touch her without her flinching. No. No, no, Erik. It’s a cry for help. You know her. This is her way of showing you she needs you.
I sigh at the realisation, smiling at my bebe. I relax my hands. “Come here, beautiful.” I open my arms, and she beams, taking the two steps to my level. Tucking into my body, her arms go around my waist as I close mine around her.
I lower my nose to her hair and inhale. “Movie night tonight?” I ask, still holding her warm body close to mine, feeling her breath hitch. Excitement? Perhaps.
“Okay. With Dad?”
Does she want to be alone with me?
“With Dad.” I push her out in front of me, catching her as she grins widely. “Family movie! Can I pick?”
I cup her face, eyes unable to move away. I knew she was pretty. More than pretty. She looks like a mix of Marilyn Monroe and Megan Fox. Nothing but average all around me on campus, nothing but pretty and plain—nothing like her.
I open my mouth to say something but shut it again. “You can pick, of course,” I finally say.
She pops her mouth open, thinking. “Labyrinth?”
There she is. “Yeah.” I smile at her. “Labyrinth. He turned the world upside down for her.”
“He did.”
“And you think that’s romantic?”
“He wouldn’t move the stars for her, so no. I’d say he has to work on his devotion and priorities.”
That was a message from her, maybe? I moved her stars. I put them all over her ceiling.
“Go get into your pyjamas.” I drop my hands and watch her stroll into her room. My cock thickens in my jeans at the sight of her arse in those tight denim shorts. The door doesn’t close all the way. I stand there and look at the thin slit, the entrance to her room.
I clench my teeth.
A memory comes back: two weeks ago, I was trying to fuck this pretty blonde at a party. Knelt between her thighs. Her pussy glistening at me. My cock… soft.
“What’s wrong with you?” she said.
I grabbed my cock and choked it, fucking my fist, trying to get hard. Nothing happened.
“It must be you,” I said.
She sneered and stood up, climbing from the bed, and I slumped on my back and scowled at the ceiling. Thinking about how Blesk missed my call that night.
What’s wrong with me?
What’s wrong with me?
Blesk Bellamy.
“I’ve turned my world upside down for you.”
I didn’t watch the movie. I watched her watch it. Dad fell asleep on the couch, and I carried her to bed when she joined him in slumber.
That’s what I do.
Take care of her.
Her long lashes flutter open to find me hovering over her on the bed. I remove my hand from my pants.
She peers up at me, from her pillow, confusion on her pretty face, her left cheek set aglow from her side light.
It’s dark in here.
“Erik?” She rubs her eyes. “What time is it?”
Branches scrape on her window.
“You were having a nightmare,” I lie. My hands are already on her sheet, pulling it down. Her eyes pan down my bare chest to my boxer briefs, before popping back up. Did she see my erection? “I realised something today,” I go on. “When you were with that boy. You’re going to want to date—”
“Erik—"
I cover her mouth with my hand. Her eyes widen. “I came home from parties. Left dates. To be near you when you needed me. I can’t be what you need anymore.” I don’t know why I said that, but maybe I want her to feel desperate, afraid, afraid that maybe I won’t be there for her next time.
Her everything.
The one she trusts.
“It’s too much. I’m dying here.” That part is true. I am fucking dying here.
She reaches her hand up, cups my cheek, and I close my eyes, leaning into her warmth and tenderness. Blesk. I drag my hand along her mouth until only my thumb is there. I stare at her lips. Fuck it. I lean down and kiss her, swallowing her gasp.
She squirms.
Licking her lips so she doesn’t have to learn to kiss just yet, I crawl on top of her, my cock throbbing. I am agonising over her. She is trembling. Of course. It’s cold. And this is her first time. I break away from her lips, and kiss her cheek, neck, then mouth her ear.
Against her skin, I say, “Do you remember how you were wet when I stroked you”—I lean on one elbow and stroke her pussy over her knickers—“here. We were just kids. I remember. Say you remember.”
Her voice hiccups. “I remember.”
“Do you know what that means?” I hook my finger under her knickers and stroke the tight, closed valley between her soft, bald lips. “Do you know what that means, Bebe?”
“Yes.”
“Listen to your body.” I push two fingers into her, and groan. Goddamn, she’s tight. She squeezes me, nearly pushing my fingers out of her, whimpering and squirming. “Listen to your body. You won’t flinch. You trust me.”
I force my fingers in and out of her, until her insides are so wet and warm and mine, that I can’t wait. I pull her knickers down her ankles—
“Erik—”
I cover her mouth again and continue undressing her with one hand.
“It’s okay. I know. It’s a lot. But you’ll wake up Dad.
” Pressing my body down on hers, hard, I try to keep her warm, try to stop her from shaking so hard.
As I push my pants down, my cock jerks up, already leaking.
Blesk. That is what Blesk does without effort. My Bebe.
I notch my cock at her entrance, between the wet lips of her virgin pussy, and whisper in her ear, my hand still over her mouth so she doesn’t moan too loud.
“One,” I whisper. “Two. Three.”
I thrust into her.
She doesn’t flinch.