When he lifts the beer to his mouth, droplets of the overflowing liquid dribble down the side of his hand, dripping onto his smooth pectoral muscle. My eyes follow every slither the envious droplets make down the impressive ridges of his torso, bumped abs in his stomach, and formidable V muscle before it is absorbed by the dark patch of hair above his…
“Oh my god, Hugo! Go and put on some clothes,” squeals Jorgie.
I jump from her thunderous roar bouncing around the kitchen before diverting my eyes to the window.
“You’re so disgusting! We eat in here! Your nephew is going to eat in here!”
My shoulders shake when gagging noises escape Jorgie’s mouth, closely followed by the profound rumble of Hugo’s laughter. This type of jeeringis nothing new for Jorgie and Hugo. They have one of the longest running prank tallies in the history of sibling rivalry.
Their mom, Edie, said it started before Jorgie even escaped the womb. When Edie was heavily pregnant with Jorgie, any time Hugo would climb onto her lap, begging for attention, Jorgie would kick up a storm. Mrs. Marshall said the aim of Jorgie’s monstrous size foot was always firmly rapt on Hugo.
My eyes return front and center when the sound of bare feet stomping on the wooden floorboards in the living room resonates through my ears. A grin tugs on my mouth when I spot Jorgie's narrowed gaze planted on a retreating Hugo. Unlike mine, her eyes are shooting daggers at the back of his head. I'm happily implanting the visual of his naked derriere into my memory for future use. Hugo has always had a spectacular backside, but just like every other muscle in his body, it seems to have improved with age.
Jorgie's gaze swings to peer at me. Her brows are scrunched, and her beige skin is whiter than normal. "Thatgets you all hot and bothered?” she queries, hooking her thumb over her shoulder.
“Used to,” I correct. My tone is confident even though my stomach is riddled with the fluttering of butterflies mid-flight.
Jorgie rolls her eyes before digging her hand into the drenched paper bag. She has never understood my crush on Hugo, and in all honesty, it would be a little weird if she did. I playfully bump her with my hip before assisting in unpacking the groceries. My brows furrow when I notice the bag is full of non-perishable food supplies most people generally have stacked in their pantries on a regular basis. My suspicion becomes immensely piqued when I notice the glass canister of cracked pepper is half empty.
“Jorgie,” I say, my tone low and crammed with suspicion.
“What?” she murmurs, moving to the fridge to pull out the pre-prepared marinated chicken and ribs.
“You didn’t really go to the grocery store, did you?” I query, pacing closer to her.
Her right shoulder lifts into a small shrug, but she remains quiet. Jorgie may be conniving and sneaky in her endeavors to force Hugo and me together, but she can't lie straight in bed. Even when she tells a little fib to get herself out of trouble, her deceitfulness only lasts a matter of minutes before the truth comes blurting out of her mouth.
“Oh fine,” she huffs. “I didn’t go to the store. There, are you happy?” Overdramatically, she throws her arms into the air.
See, proof she can’t lie.
She puts the chicken in the oven before pivoting around to face me. I guess my first clue she didn't forget the most vital ingredients for dinner was that the oven was sitting on a pre-warming setting. But in all honesty, even with the room being heated by the 390-degree setting, it wasn't the oven creating the sweat-forming hotness in the room. That honor solely belonged to Hugo.
“Didn’t you learn after your last shower prank that Hugo doesn’t fluster over his nakedness being on display?” I ask. My pulse quickens when I refer to his naked body.
Jorgie’s face pales. “But you missed out on all the fun that night.”
“So you thought you’d try again?” I interrupt.
She smiles and nods her head.
“Jorgie, I told you.”
“I know, I know,” she interjects. “You no longer have a crush on Hugo.”
My heart ceases beating when a rumbling, smug voice sounds through my ears. “You had a crush on me?”
My mortified eyes glare at Jorgie before I shift them to Hugo. Although his body is covered with a lot more clothing than it was, I’m still imagining him naked.
"Yeah,had, but that was years ago," I respond, acting like it's no big deal. "That was way before I knew who you did…umm, what you did… umm, who you really are."
For crying out loud, Ava, shut your mouth!
I prop my hip on the counter and snag the bottle of beer resting on the top of it. While shifting my eyes between Jorgie and Hugo, I take a large mouth-filling gulp of the luke-warm beer. I don't care whose beer it is; I just need something to clog the word vomit dribbling out of my mouth. Hugo moves to the fridge and helps himself to a cold beer as Jorgie excuses herself to use the restroom. Once he cracks open the fresh bottle, he hands it to me.
"Thanks," I mumble, placing the half-empty bottle back onto the counter.
When he collects the bottle, I assume he is going to put it into the trash. So you can imagine my surprise when he lifts the bottle to his mouth and consumes the liquid inside, not the slightest bit concerned that my dark plum-covered lips were just pressed against the rim his lips are now sealed over.I wonder if he can taste the flavor of my lip gloss?
