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Sure. Like I can help it. “Did you talk to Dad? He said he couldn’t get hold of you.”
Another wince. “I just… don’t want to talk about anything with him right now.”
“He loves you, Soph.”
“And wants to talk about my many mistakes in life. I know.”
“Dad’s not like that.”
She says nothing.
We’ve had this conversation plenty of times before. I know it’s complicated, and I know Dad can get too much sometimes, whenever he remembers us from the artists’ colony where he’s been living these past few years, but he means well—unlike Mom who only cares about her own precious self.
It’s just that… I don’t let him get on my case, but Soph is not that strong. Not anymore. Sometimes
it’s all too much for her, and when she gets like this, anything can get her down. Not something I want for my sis.
That’s why I’m here. Who can support her if not her older sibling, right?
“And how’s Griffin?” I ask brightly, to change the subject.
Finally a smile warms her face, though it’s faint. “The treatment seems to be working.”
“Good. That’s great news, sis.”
She nods. Flicks some non-existent dust from the books’ spines. Her lower lip trembles, but that’s the only sign before she bites down on it and straightens her spine.
My little sis. Fragile, beautiful, sassy, intelligent, sad—and a stubborn fighter. My heart beats in time to hers. We’re more alike than I allow myself to believe, and yet so different.
She’s kick-ass. And I’ll be by her side for as long as she needs me.
After all, it’s not like I even have anything to go back to. She thinks she made mistakes? Ha. Let’s not talk about mine.
Besides, that’s the last thing I want to discuss with her now. I’m not here to throw a pity party. This is about her, not me.
What better way to take a break from myself?
It’s a bright winter day. Drawing my black coat closed, I blow into my hands as I walk briskly through the college campus. I have the class schedule in my hand, and I’m trying to find the right auditorium, when I see him.
The blond cutie with the impressive biceps, the dreamy blue eyes and the ever-present ear-phones hanging around his neck.
We’ve crossed paths quite a few times over the past year, and yeah, he’s been in my thoughts once or twice.
Hey, I’m human, and he’s so handsome he makes my ovaries hurt. What can you do?
But I don’t really live here, I’m only filling in for my sister, and obviously he doesn’t even know she exists. I’d smile and ask how he’s been every time I saw him in one of my sister’s classes, but he never seemed interested in talking, and I don’t even know his name.
And of course he’s a total chick-magnet. Maybe it’s the fact he’s always surrounded by women that makes it hard to talk. No time for chitchat with inconsequential people like me.
Like now, when he’s in the middle of a group of girls, saying something that has them swooning and giggling.
Ugh. I mean, even if I found the guts to approach and chat him up, what chance do I stand when he’s constantly mobbed by the prettiest girls on campus?
There’s something about his smile… it’s playful and kind of twisted, but also sweet. I can imagine the softness of his full lips on my skin, the scrape of his golden stubble on my chin, on my boobs, between my legs, the roughness of his tongue—
Whoa. Cool down, wildcat.
Regretfully I walk by, turning one last time to ogle his handsome self—and okay, his butt—and go on my merry way. Things to do, classes to attend. I’m on a mission. Can’t get distracted by hotties, even if they’re totally my type:
