I told myself I let my eyes linger on her body because I knew it would rile her up. That I’d slightly memorized the muscle definition from her traps to her triceps because it annoyed her. That I hadn’t developed an emotional reaction every time I smelled bright citrus in the doorway of our townhouse or wafting from her room.
And I sure as shit did not know what to do about that.
I thought I could pretend that the panic racing throughout my body yesterday was a fluke. For every decibel Brittney’s voice had lowered, my fight or flight kicked into overdrive. But I didn’t want my baby sister to panic, and, given how collected my roommate was acting, I figured it was for the same purpose.
Over the past two months, I had seen Brittney display a myriad of emotions. It was one of the things I admired most about her. She didn’t try to shrink herself because other people were watching, or try to come off more palatable. She was big when her emotions couldn’t be bottled up, sexy when she was playful, and serious when she had a basketball in her hands.
Olive’s spring break visit had shifted something between us. She saw the overbearing and caring big sister role I played, and I finally saw the individual pieces of my roommate that made up the whole picture. I watched Brittney flip between a cool adult who was desperate for a teenager’s approval, to an annoying sister who could flip Olive’s mood like a light switch. Maybe I’d given her too much shit for being a stereotypical middle child. Brittney knew when to be a friend, and when to be an authoritative figure, all without stepping on my toes or alluding to our very gray relationship.
And then I’d thought a walnut was going to take her out.
She didn’t need to ask me to watch over her, but it felt pretty reasonable to sit on her bedroom floor half the night watching the rise and fall of her chest.
I also didn’t want to think about how her lips were on my cup, or the way I’d watched her chest bob as she guzzled down my water, her lips on the exact spot mine had been earlier. I wanted to lick off the errant drop that was running down her chin.
I wanted to chalk up my caring for Brittney as a concerned roommate and teammate. But then I woke up to the smell of breakfast and the echoes of my sister, in her own way, confidingin her about her love life. Something I was too chickenshit to do, given I hadn’t had an emotional connection in three years.
Listening to Brittney balance that scale of casual and serious with Olive cracked my chest wide open and made my insides twist with panic. This dynamic wasn’t two reluctant roommates who were rivals all of six months ago, now forced to be the best of friends. At least, not on my part.
I was free falling out of a plane with no parachute.
Not only did I want to see her everyday, I wanted to play with her, too. At least, I hoped our off-court chemistry would translate properlyonit. Our futures did depend on it, after all.
I heard Olive ask if we’dkissed.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs and pleaded with my eyes for Brittney to not answer the question, but given her smirk and the way her eyes were narrowed, she would indeed do the opposite.
“Actually, we have.” Brittney answered before shoveling grits into her mouth.
“I knew it!” Olive squealed, “Nola totally has—”
“It was four years ago actually.” I rushed to say before Olive could blow up my spot.
“Oh.” That shut her up. “What happened?”
“I—” I started but didn’t know how to finish.
“I wasn’t honest with myself yet.” Brittney admitted, her eyes flicking to mine. “Nola and I were cool, friends I’d say, and I had definitely wanted to kiss her, too. I just wasn’t ready to be real with myself.” She cleared her throat and ate more grits.
“Wow, that’s kind of like some fated lovers shit,” Olive’s gaze ping-ponged between us.
“Language,” I managed from my mouth that was suddenly too dry. I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know you, uh, felt that way, Bee.”
She shrugged, the tops of her shoulders skimming her curly bob.
“Enough of this backstory— eat breakfast!” Brittney sang
Even though my body moved, my sister’s words still rang in my ear.
Fated lovers.
Bee and I didn’t have time to unpack Olive’s investigation into our relationship, because after breakfast I was sticking to the itinerary I created. Olive and I visited art museums and gardens throughout Miami, something we both enjoyed.
Since I was a kid, I loved reading the curator’s thoughts and the artist’s biography. I loved trying to see what other people saw before analyzing what I saw for myself. What brush strokes popped out to me, or what colors moved me emotionally.
Olive and I sat at the museum cafe before we headed back home to change for dinner. I watched her swirl her frozen yogurt, mindlessly.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I braced for impact. Olive and I both internalized a lot, but she was better at voicing where she was at mentally better than me, and I was the adult.
