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Two hours later, both pizzas were gone, along with eight bottles of Smirnoff Ice.
I’d never been much of a drinker, so the three and a half bottles I consumed quickly went to my head. Luckily, Lucy and I were both happy drunks, and as we sprawled across the living room floor, stuffed with food, life didn’t seem quite so bad.
“I suppose you want to stay here tonight?”
“I have to. Mum and Dad will kill you if I return home in this state!”
“Hey, you were the one who brought the booze!”
“And as a responsible older sibling, you should have limited me to one bottle.” She giggled, and patted her stomach. “You probably should have stopped me eating after the first half pizza, too.”
“Oh, please. There’s nothing of you!”
Nobody ever believed we were sisters, since she was a perfect size eight, with long legs and not an extra ounce of fat on her. Me? I’d learned to love my curves years ago.
“You should make the most of your figure,” I teased. “It won’t last forever!”
“I bloody hope not, I want some boobs one day.”
I snorted out a laugh. “You’re gorgeous as you are, Luce.”
“Easy for you to say with your massive hooters!”
“They’re not massive,” I laughed, throwing a cushion across the room at her. “They’re... well proportioned.”
“Whatever. I want some. Boys like boobs.”
She let out a sigh, casting a shadow over the light conversation, and I sat up a little. So much for us being happy drunks.
“Luce? What’s going on with you? The other night you said you weren’t interested in boys.”
“I’m not.” She paused, fiddling with the embroidery on the cushion. “Well. No. I’m not, it’s... what were you doing when you were eighteen?”
“What do you mean? Are you asking if I had a boyfriend?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m eighteen years old and I’ve never been kissed.”
Wow. I never thought my first big sister talk would happen under the influence of alcohol. Maybe that was why she felt brave enough to ask. It’s not that we weren’t close. We just weren’t secret-sharing close. This was brand new territory.
“Well,” I propped myself against the sofa, preparing to sound all wise and profound, “I didn’t have my first kiss until my eighteenth birthday.”
“So... you had a boyfriend when you were eighteen?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t have a proper boyfriend until I was at university.”
Lucy straightened up a little, smirking as if she was about to land a major scoop. “Does this mean the kiss on your birthday was a crafty one with a stranger?”
Oh boy.
“No. It wasn’t a one-off or a stranger.”
“But it wasn’t a boyfriend?”
“It was Jason.”
The smirk slipped from Lucy’s face as her jaw dropped. “Jason? Jason? Your first kiss was with Jason Brooks?”
I nodded, and took a small sip of my drink while she processed the information. Every time I blinked, her expression switched, from shock, to confusion, to wide-eyed disbelief, until settling on how-the-hell-did-that-ever-happen?
