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I rang the doorbell and took a few steps back, trying to stay in sight of the twin windows on either side so that Andrea could see me. I waited for a few seconds, and when she didn’t appear, rang the doorbell again. I tried to look in through the blinds, but I could barely make out the hallway, let alone judge if anyone was coming to answer me. I stepped down from the porch and looked up at the second-floor windows, hoping that Andrea was probably trying to judge who was outside from upstairs. Still, nothing.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Bobby.
“Hello?”
“She’s not answer –”
The front door opened, and my words caught in my throat.
Andrea looked nothing like what I remembered. I was never a curious guy, and I had never taken notice of any of the family pictures lying around Bobby’s house. The last I remembered of Andrea, she was in Junior High and looked a lot like a thirteen-year-old who had just discovered that she needed braces and glasses at the same time. To me, she was always Bobby’s kid sister, and I rarely saw her as anything else.
The woman who opened the door for me now was nothing like that memory. Andrea was braces and glasses free, her chestnut hair tied back in a high ponytail that made her eyes pop out like twin emeralds, and her smile as dashing as the face that it sat on. She was wearing a t-shirt that did little to hide the fact that somewhere along the years, her breasts had decided to grow two sizes bigger than when I had last seen her. Her shorts gave me a gracious view of her long legs, and I could tell from the way her hips curved that, once she’d turn around, I’d see one hell of an ass.
That’s your best friend’s sister, asshole.
The way I was staring, you could never tell.
“Andy?”
Bobby’s voice across the line snapped me back from the perverted part of my mind I had wandered into. One I usually felt very comfortable in, if it weren’t for the fact that this was Bobby Canfield’s sister.
“Never mind,” I said, my eyes locked on Andrea. “She’s opened.”
“Okay, cool,” Bobby replied. “If that jackass actually does pass by, call me first, then beat the fuck out of him.”
“Gotcha,” I said, hanging up.
“Andy?” Andrea asked, smiling as she squinted at me, obviously trying to find anything remotely recognizable to latch onto. “Andy Stetson?”
“The one and only,” I smiled, walking back up the porch.
Her smile widened, and she rushed towards me, her arms wrapping around my neck and her breasts pushing up against my chest.
Think of your grandmother naked. For fuck’s sake, don’t you dare get a boner!
“Oh my God!” she said, letting me go. “You changed!”
“So, did you,” I said. “What happened to the braces and glasses?”
“Lasik and a good dentist,” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Likewise.”
“Get in here,” she grabbed my hand and pulled me after her. “It’s been forever!”
For a woman running away from her husband, she sure seemed to be in a good mood.
***
She made me coffee. Good coffee. And we ended up on opposite couches in the living room, enjoying the brew and catching up. She asked a lot of questions, wanted to know everything about my life since we had last met, and gracefully dodged any questions I asked in the same direction. I let it slide, not wanting to press, knowing that any discussion about her marriage would probably be very uncomfortable. Besides, she hardly knew me. To her I was Andy Stetson, the weird kid her brother used to hang out. I was pretty much a stranger to her right now.
“So, have you settled in okay?” I asked. “I can’t imagine what it’s like coming home to your room.”
“Looks just the way it was when I left,” she said. “Didn’t change a bit. Still has the posters up and all. It feels weird and familiar at the same time, you know?”
“I guess.”
“Are you still in that house on Maple Road?”
