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Since childhood, Cameron has been in love with his best friend Charlotte. Then sickness took her away. Charlotte returns five years later, but everything is different; she is not a little girl anymore and Cameron has noticed. But he can’t give in to his emotions because Charlotte is not just his best friend; she is also his little sister.
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Just to make sure my mother was asleep; I waited a few hours before sneaking into my sister’s room. Charlotte sat up in bed as soon as I opened the door, as if she’d been waiting for me. I couldn’t quite make out her features in the darkness, but I didn’t need to see her to know that she was smiling.
“You came,” she said so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “I didn’t think you would.”
“And why is that?” I asked, climbing into bed beside her.
“Because …”
“Because of dinner.”
She smiled, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I guess I get jealous sometimes.”
I was going to tell her that it was alright, that she needed to think about apologizing to my friends whenever she saw them again, but she leaned over and kissed me, and my mind went blank.
It was a sloppy kiss, nothing particularly romantic or special, but here in her bed again—in the secret of the night—it sent waves of electricity rippling through me. I kissed her hard, my hands pulling her close. She slipped a hand beneath the covers, beneath the hem of my pants, and I gasped.
“Tell me you love me more than her,” Charlotte whispered into my neck.
My eyes flew open.
She was talking about Ivy. She was kissing me because of Ivy. Because of her childish jealousy.
With strength I didn’t know I had, I pulled away. “Charlotte, if Mom gets any more suspicious of us—”
“She’ll what? Report us to the police?” She pushed me into the covers. “Kick us out of the house?” She straddled me.
“She might,” I said, my voice strained. I tried to stay focused, to remember why I was here; but it was hard to think of anything but the naked flesh before me. Charlotte had shimmied out of her nightgown, revealing the smooth skin of her belly, her small breasts. I shuddered as she kissed me, my hands gripping her blankets. I didn’t want this—I shouldn’t have wanted this. But I could not escape my own desires.
“She just got her little girl back,” Charlotte whispered. “Mom would never kick me out.”
I breathed hard for a moment, trying to keep my hands knotted in the thick covers instead of groping my sister’s body. “But she might kick me out,” I grunted.
Charlotte leaned back and made a face, her features crinkling in the moonlight. “If she kicks you out then I’ll go with you. We could be together in peace that way.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You think too much.”
“One of us has to think.”
My own words brought this pleasing torture to an end. One of us has to think. With her sitting on me, half naked, begging for more than just a kiss, I knew the thinker wouldn’t be Charlotte. Not when she could so easily make plans for us to run away. Not when she could naively believe we would ever find peace as brother and sister in this world. One of us has to think—think of what’s best, think of what comes next, even if it isn’t something we want. That person has to be me.
“Charlotte,” I said, shifting so would get off me.
She stayed put, grabbing my shirt to undress me. “Yes, brother?”
“Stop,” I whispered.
“You came,” she said so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “I didn’t think you would.”
“And why is that?” I asked, climbing into bed beside her.
“Because …”
“Because of dinner.”
She smiled, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I guess I get jealous sometimes.”
I was going to tell her that it was alright, that she needed to think about apologizing to my friends whenever she saw them again, but she leaned over and kissed me, and my mind went blank.
It was a sloppy kiss, nothing particularly romantic or special, but here in her bed again—in the secret of the night—it sent waves of electricity rippling through me. I kissed her hard, my hands pulling her close. She slipped a hand beneath the covers, beneath the hem of my pants, and I gasped.
“Tell me you love me more than her,” Charlotte whispered into my neck.
My eyes flew open.
She was talking about Ivy. She was kissing me because of Ivy. Because of her childish jealousy.
With strength I didn’t know I had, I pulled away. “Charlotte, if Mom gets any more suspicious of us—”
“She’ll what? Report us to the police?” She pushed me into the covers. “Kick us out of the house?” She straddled me.
“She might,” I said, my voice strained. I tried to stay focused, to remember why I was here; but it was hard to think of anything but the naked flesh before me. Charlotte had shimmied out of her nightgown, revealing the smooth skin of her belly, her small breasts. I shuddered as she kissed me, my hands gripping her blankets. I didn’t want this—I shouldn’t have wanted this. But I could not escape my own desires.
“She just got her little girl back,” Charlotte whispered. “Mom would never kick me out.”
I breathed hard for a moment, trying to keep my hands knotted in the thick covers instead of groping my sister’s body. “But she might kick me out,” I grunted.
Charlotte leaned back and made a face, her features crinkling in the moonlight. “If she kicks you out then I’ll go with you. We could be together in peace that way.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“You think too much.”
“One of us has to think.”
My own words brought this pleasing torture to an end. One of us has to think. With her sitting on me, half naked, begging for more than just a kiss, I knew the thinker wouldn’t be Charlotte. Not when she could so easily make plans for us to run away. Not when she could naively believe we would ever find peace as brother and sister in this world. One of us has to think—think of what’s best, think of what comes next, even if it isn’t something we want. That person has to be me.
“Charlotte,” I said, shifting so would get off me.
She stayed put, grabbing my shirt to undress me. “Yes, brother?”
“Stop,” I whispered.
