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“This morning. Her train is still on time and Dad is going to pick her up tomorrow, I think. Their storm is due to start a little earlier.”
“Christmas is in six days; I can’t believe she’s coming home this early.”
“I can’t believe she’s stuck it out this long.” He chuckles as we zoom through the somewhat empty New York streets. It’s late and most students have either left for the semester, are studying or partying, making the streets a little less congested than usual. We make it to his building in about five minutes and he pulls into the garage beneath. “You still remember my codes?” he asks me as he moves into the garage and the gate closes behind us.
“How could I forget? It’s my birthday,” I tell him and something spikes in my heart at the memory.
He parks in his usual spot and grabs his briefcase and what I assume to be a gym bag out of the back before grabbing my things as well, then ushers me into the waiting area for the elevators.
“So, what did you mean when you said you don’t like anyone? There’s no one at Columbia catching your attention?” he asks as we ascend to his apartment on the fourteenth floor.
I shake my head. “Nope,” I tell him as I pop the p.
“No guys sniffing around trying to take you out. Maybe a nice guy in accounting? Or pre-med? Stay away from the frat guys, Gab. They ain’t shit.”
“You were a frat guy, James.” I chuckle as he leads me out of the elevator.
“And I wasn’t shit in college.” He laughs and jealousy flares in my veins thinking about what he could possibly mean. I mean I know he was far from a virgin, but I’d rather not think about him sleeping with anyone in a skirt while he was in college.
“That’s not true. You’ve always been the best big brother.”
“Big brother yes, boyfriend, no.” He unlocks his door and lets me in. I immediately toe off my boots, and take off my jacket, hanging it on the rack next to the door. I’m wearing skin-tight leggings tucked into my fuzzy red and white striped socks and a somewhat oversized Columbia sweatshirt.
When I look up, I see James staring at me and I frown wondering what he’s looking at. “What?”
He shakes his head, but just before that I see a look I don’t recognize then it’s gone before I can pinpoint if I’ve seen it on anyone else before. “Make yourself at home, why don’t ya.” He laughs and I nod.
“I shall.” I pull my sweatshirt up off over my head leaving me in a tiny t-shirt because James likes to leave the thermostat a few degrees above Hell at all times.
The t-shirt is tight, showing off the curves of my C cup breasts and my leggings hug the curve of my ass and my thick thighs. Thighs I used to hate and wish were smaller until I got to college and realized that not everyone is a size zero. I learned to embrace them. And the male attention I got didn’t suck either.
James chuckles as he makes his way into the kitchen and I trail behind him. “What’s so funny?” I ask as I hop on his counter and hold my hand out, waiting for him to hand me a drink. Preferably a glass of wine.
“Nothing,” he says before handing me a glass of water. I look down at the non-alcoholic beverage and then up at him and give him a look he must read because he chuckles.
“What?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me and those full lips I’ve fantasized about sliding my tongue between curl into a smirk. “You’re here to study, not party.”
I snap out of it, knowing James will pick up if I’m feeling off, so I turn on my usual sarcasm. “One glass of wine is a party? Remind me to never ask you to plan one for me.”
“I planned your eighteenth and your graduation party so you can fuck off.” He points at me as he pulls the Chinese food out of the refrigerator and some plates from his cabinet.
“Mom planned both,” I correct him.
“Mom had afternoon tea and a day at the spa planned for you and your friends before I intervened.”
“I like tea!” I counter because I do actually like having tea with my mother and her friends. Monica was never into it but I felt so classy, like I was on that Netflix show Bridgerton.
“Yeah, and you liked the White Claws that you drank out on my friend’s boat as we cruised around the lake, better.” Despite my love for tea, it was more fun. James convinced his friend to let me and seven of my girlfriends take over his boat for a day. It was fun for many reasons, the biggest being any time I can see James shirtless is a win, and at one point, he and his friend jumped off the boat. And while three of my friends ended up puking from one too many drinks, it was pretty great.
“Fair.” I watch as he spoons some food onto a plate for me and puts it in the microwave.
“I know it’s better on the stove, but I’m starving, are you good with this?”
“I’m an undergraduate student; I don’t even have access to a stove unless I go to the common room in the basement of my dorm or come here. Microwave is perfect.”
Twenty minutes later, after he’s changed into more comfortable clothes, we’re in his living room watching some movie about the end of the world. Well, he’s watching. I’m alternating between eating and trying to read over my notes for the hundredth time. He’s on the couch behind me and I’m sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table with my books littering the space.
Silence fills the room and when I look up, I realize he’s muted the television. “Gab, is this distracting you? I know you need to study.”
“No!” I say it a little quicker than I intended, but I don’t want him to leave. I liked being here with him even if I’m studying and he’s watching a movie. I just wanted to be in his space. I pick up the white carton and pull some rice to my lips.
“As many times as we’ve had Chinese food together and you’re still using a fork,” he says as he pulls the noodles to his full lips with chopsticks.
“We can’t all be perfect,” I tell him with a middle finger and a cheesy smile that I know makes my dimples pop out.
A smile pulls at his lips but I can see it completely in his eyes. “You are perfect, Gab.” He holds out his chopsticks for me to try. I grab them out of his hands and do my best to grab a hold of a piece of orange chicken. But after three times of it falling off, I just stab it like I would use a fork and bring one chopstick to my lips and eat the chicken. I let my lips linger around the stick, my body hyper aware that this was previously in his mouth. I share drinks and utensils with Monica and my mother all the time, and even my father a time or two, but the times I have with James, those were different.
He laughs and takes them back from me, shaking his head the whole time, and I watch in fascination as he takes a bite of his noodles again with the chopstick that had just been in my mouth.
