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She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten. Sorry if I woke you.”
“What? No. I’m just…” She crosses an arm over her breasts as awareness that she’s barely dressed filters through her waking consciousness.
“Come on out when you’re ready. The guest bath is across the hall, and I set out some towels. I’ll be in the kitchen. Coffee is ready.”
I chose this layout because the guest room can double as an office. The bathroom across the hall, in my mind, would be a good guest toilet room. But the layout requires Sunny to walk across the hall. Only now do I see the benefits of the en suite bathroom for the second bathroom. That was an option in one of the plans I didn’t choose.
About twenty minutes later, Sunny emerges in sweatpants, thick socks, and a tank top. She beelines to the coffee pot and sheepishly peers up at me.
“What have you got planned for the day? I can get out—”
“You are my plan for the day. I figured maybe we could do a movie marathon.” Her coffee mug hides her smile, but I know it’s there based on the way her cheeks rise higher and the pale skin around her blue eyes crinkles.
“Like old times?”
“Exactly.”
Sunny and I watched so many movies together. That was one thing about living out in the country. I didn’t have any other friends within walking distance, and, well, all of Sunny’s friends had gone off to college.
Of course, she had no idea she reigned supreme as the solo star of my teenage fantasies. That while we sat there watching those movies, I’d been staring at her breasts and her thighs and her ass. And of course, she’d been sitting there thinking of me as the kid brother, cheering me on when I got my permit and later my driver’s license. Yeah, I’ll be taking those teen fantasies to the grave.
I open a paper bag with the breakfast I brought back from the hospital. Most of the food from the hospital ranks as subpar, but they order the croissants from a local bakery.
I lift one and ask, “Want it heated?”
“No, but do you have jelly?”
“Doubt it,” I mumble, opening the refrigerator. “I don’t eat here a lot. And when I do, it’s usually take-out.”
“That doesn’t seem very healthy.”
“Eh, I eat a lot of salad. The salad bar is about the best thing the hospital cafeteria has going.”
“Well, whatever system you have, it’s working well for you.”
I straighten and cock my head. “Sunny, are you telling me you…” I let my words trail. Does she see me as attractive? I mean, the kiss last night had been hot as hell, but she broke it, and I assumed I’d thrown her because, after all, I’m her ex’s little brother. And not just any ex. Her first love. Her first sex. I can’t stand thinking about it, so I reach for the butter, since it’s all I have, and close the fridge.
“Dr. Ian Duke, are you telling me you don’t realize you are all that and more?” Her smile qualifies as flirty, but her tone is more big sister tease. She rolls that pale peach lip beneath her upper front teeth, and I lean against the counter, hiding her effect on me.
“That’s all I have,” I say, pushing the butter before her.
“You’ve always been such a cutie pie. I find it hard to believe you don’t know it.” She slathers on butter and grins like she didn’t just re-affirm my position as the kid brother by calling me a cutie pie.
“So, movies. What are you in the mood for?”
“Well, we’d have to go classics, right?” She scrunches her nose and takes a big bite of croissant.
“Oh. So, you’re thinkingThe Hangover?”
“No. We watched that one too many times. I can’t.” She holds her fingers up to cover her lips, since she’s chewing as she answers me.
I chuckle. If she only knew how many times I continued to watch that movie, or parts of the movie, through undergrad and med school.
“Let’s see.” I run through the movie catalog in my head, the ones that probably still sit in DVD cases on my parents’ shelves, even though I’m pretty sure they ditched the DVD player ages ago. “Superbad?” She wrinkles her nose. That’s a no. “Huh.V for Vendetta?” The nose remains crinkled. “Kill Bill?”
She waves her hand dismissively and sips her coffee, then sets it down on the counter. “The Notebook.”
