by Penny Wylder
Anna’s husband Richard is always on rush duty. The nickname we’ve given to frantically driving to the store to pick up whatever we’ve forgotten. This time it’s ice. He takes Trevor with him, and I’m relieved. I can’t seem to think straight when he’s in the same room. Exhibit A being the fact that I almost let him get me off in my living room. I should have made up a reason for Richard to buy batteries, because I’m going to need them. I get the feeling that my vibrator and I are going to be very good friends this winter break.
Brad does whatever else we need, bringing dishes to and from the kitchen, washing a pan I forgot we needed, and being a good sport about it in spite of it being his first day home. I tap him on the shoulder. “I promise I’ll let you do nothing for at least two days.”
“It’s all right, Mom, really. I don’t mind.”
How I got a kid as good as this one, I’ll never know.
The front door opens and I feel the blast of cold air even from the kitchen. Richard comes in followed by Trevor, who’s carrying the ice. I can’t help but notice the way he’s handling giant bags of ice as if they weigh nothing. His eyes find mine, and I look away. I have to stop. I focus on Maria, who’s in the middle of telling a story about her date last week.
“—I swear to god he had his credit cards alphabetized.”
Anna laughs. “Maria, how could you possibly know that?”
“He was an accountant. He was practically wearing a pocket protector. Hell, I’d be willing to put a lot of money on the fact that that man alphabetized his wallet.”
“So you don’t actually know?” I ask.
“Well, no,” Maria says. “But if you’d been there and seen him you’d say it too.”
I shove a cucumber and a peeler into her hands. “So no second date?”
“Yeah, no,” she says, attacking the cucumber. My sister has always been a master peeler. I think she can peel a cucumber in fifteen seconds. We may have had competitions when we were younger.
“What about you?” Anna says, and I feel the dread settle in my stomach.
“Yes,” Maria says, handing me back the peeled cucumber to slice. “How is your romantic life?”
In the corner of my eye I see Trevor’s head snap up, suddenly far more interested in our conversation than putting ice in the coolers. I force my eyes down and focus on cutting the cucumber. I will not look at him. I will not. “It’s fine.”
Anna snorts. “Right. ‘Fine.’ Does fine mean that you actually went on a date?”
I look at her and pointedly roll my eyes. “It means, Anna, that I’m perfectly content with my life the way it is.”
“When was the last time you actually went on a date?” Maria asks. Her voice is light, playful, but I’ve been through this with them before.
Sweeping the cucumbers off the cutting board into the salad, I clear my throat. “None of your business.” It’s been more than six months, and that date was terrible, but if I tell them they’ll never leave me alone.
“You know we’re only joking with you, right?” Anna says. “You’re our baby sister. It’s our job to pester, and after Jackson—”
“Right,” I say, swallowing the embarrassment that’s building in my gut. If they knew how much their joking stuck with me after they left…
“Speaking of baby,” Anna says. “Come with me, Stella. I brought you a skirt. It won’t fit me anymore, and it’s more your style than mine.”
Maria leans past me and grabs the salad bowl. “Go ahead,” she says softly. “I’ll finish in here.” We both know that if I don’t go with her and try on the skirt, we risk upsetting her. I love my sister, but pregnancy has put her on edge.
“Okay.”
Anna grabs one of her bags and follows me into my bedroom. She tosses it on the bed and I take out the soft green skirt from the bag. It’s gathered on one side, and I have to admit it’s really pretty.
“If you do ever decide to go on a date, you could wear this,” Anna says.
“Would you stop?” I say. “Enough with the dating talk.”
She sighs. “Fine. We just want you to be happy.”
I slip off my pants and into the skirt. “I can be happy without dating, Anna.”
She presses her lips together, and I can just feel another lecture coming on. “It’s just that you haven’t really been with anyone since Jackson. And now that Brad is out of the house, you could finally put more time into having a relationship.”
I sigh. My entire family is like Yenta from Fiddler on the Roof. Jackson left when I was pregnant with Brad, and that leaves a mark. I didn’t want to bring someone into our lives that would treat us just as badly as he did. So no, I haven’t really been with anyone seriously. But that doesn’t mean that as soon as Brad leaves the house I’m going to jump on the first guy I see. I’ve been alone a long time. I’m used to it. I have a good life, and it’s nothing to complain about. “If it’s meant to happen, it will happen, Anna.”
The skirt really does look good. I like it. But the black top I have on is too dark. I pull a lightweight white sweater out of the closet and put it on. Perfect. “It’s good to see you in something other than black.” Anna shoots me a wink in the mirror.
“This wasn’t your skirt, was it?”
“Merry early Christmas.”
I sigh. “If this was just your way of getting me to go out, then I don’t—”
She holds up a hand. “No. I saw it, and I knew it would look great on you.”
“Okay.” I give her a hug as best as I can around her baby bump. “Thank you. I’ll do my best not to spill something on it tonight.”
Maria’s voice floats in from the kitchen telling us everything is ready to eat, so I help my sister into the dining room. Everyone is already seated, waiting for us. Bradley is at one end of the table, and my empty seat is at the other. I was right, it is a little cramped, but nothing we can’t deal with.
And then my heart stops—because my son is seated on one side of me, and Trevor is on the other.
My heart restarts and kicks into a higher gear. Was this a coincidence due to the way the table was set? Or did Trevor intentionally try to sit next to me? If he did try…why?
I had forced what happened earlier to the back of my mind, because there’s no way that really happened, right? Trevor has no reason to want this—to want me. It doesn’t make sense unless it’s all in my head. The seating arrangement is a coincidence. Nothing more.
I clear my throat and sit down, and his leg is pressed against mine because we have less room. I can feel him glance at me, and he pulls his leg back with a small smile. Suddenly I can breathe again. He knows how much I’m affected by him, and I reach for my wine. Because if I’m going to be blushing the whole night I may as well have people think it’s because I’m buzzed.
Trevor’s hand brushes my leg, and I freeze. No one can see his hand as he runs his fingers over the fabric of my skirt. I busy myself filling my plate with salad and ham and Richard’s delicious mashed potatoes, and I make sure that I am absolutely not reacting. His hand disappears and I let out a breath, the tension leaving my body. Trevor fills his own plate, and then he sneaks his hand down again, running his fingers all the way from my hip to my knee. If he keeps doing this, someone is going to see that his hand is constantly under the table and having to explain why his hand is on my leg is the last thing I want to do with my siblings.
I take a bite of mashed potatoes and reach down and grab his hand to push him away, but he twines our fingers together and holds my hand. In spite of myself I feel something warm in my chest. It’s been a long time since someone held my hand, but this isn’t the time or place, or right. I let go, gently pushing his hand back towards him.
I try to focus on the conversation, interject when I can, but I’m…distracted. I’m looking anywhere but to my right. Brad and Trevor tell everyone how the BU hockey team is doing, Annalise and Richard update everyone on their baby renovations, and the twins fill us in on their rivalry to be
come valedictorian. June recently started a new job, and she tells us all about how crazy her new boss is but how much she loves it. I try to focus on my family, but I can’t, because I’m too busy thinking about how good it felt to have Trevor’s hands on me. In between my legs.
I take another sip of wine.
Maria looks and me and says, “So how’s your skirt?”
I choke on the wine. “Excuse me?”
“The skirt Anna just gave you? Do you like it?” But from the look on her face, I know she meant to make me think otherwise.
I grab a basket of rolls from the center of the table. “I do like it.”
“Good,” Maria says. “I knew you would. As soon as she showed me I basically said that it would make your ass look amazing.”
I drop the basket of rolls, and they go flying, all over the floor. My face is burning, and if looks could kill, Maria would be dead and buried. “Really Maria?”
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, sister.” She grins as she takes a sip of wine and I cover my face with my hands.
“Okay. Moving on,” I say, and I’m about to get up and clean up the roll explosion when Trevor puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got it,” he says.
He takes the basket from my lap and starts gathering the rolls. I take another sip of wine. “Thanks.”
Trevor pulls his chair out. “Some went under the table.” He grins. “I’m going in.”
There are chuckles around the table as he drops down and scoots under the table cloth. “These rolls certainly know how to roll,” he says as his legs disappear. “Sorry everyone.” His body slides against my leg as he gathers the bread, and I feel as he turns to come back out. I feel him pause, and then his fingers on the bare skin of my ankle. I tear off a piece of bread and try to focus on what Bradley is saying.
Trevor’s hand slides up my leg and onto my thigh, and I try to keep my face neutral. Should I kick him? I could, but doing that might bring attention to it, especially with us packed in so close. I refill my wine glass, ignoring the fingers on my leg, ignoring the way my heart is beating and the way my stomach suddenly has its own set of butterflies. If he stays under there much longer everyone’s going to think he got lost and someone is going to look.
Then suddenly, I feel the fabric of his shirt against my leg and his fingers sliding close and his breath on my skin and Oh. My. God.
His fingers move my underwear and his tongue sweeps across my pussy from bottom to top, touching every part of me. A burst of pleasure flashes through my gut and I jump so hard that I spill my wine all over my sweater. “Shit!” I say.
“My fault,” Trevor says, coming out from under the table. “It’s a maze of legs under there. Someone had to get bumped.” His smile is as bright as the Christmas lights outside.
“Let me go clean this up,” I say, and look at Anna. “At least I didn’t get it on the skirt.”
The table laughs as I head to the bathroom. Thank god. I need a minute alone. Make that an hour. Frankly, it could be forever and I might not make sense of this—Trevor’s actions and my body’s feelings. I take the time to wash the wine off my sweater. Thankfully it’s white wine, but that can still stain. My brain circles around to why I spilled the wine in the first place. Why on earth? What would possess him to do that?
The door to the bathroom opens and Trevor comes in. He locks the door behind him.
“Trevor, what are you doing?”
He grins. “I thought we might continue what I started.”
“We can’t,” I say, going for the door. “And what the hell was that?”
My hand is on the handle when he grabs my hips and spins me. Now my back is against the door and Trevor is in front of me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but I can feel his heat, and the look on his face tells me that they’re not touching yet. “And why can’t we continue?” he asks.
“Because,” I say, “it’s—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence, because Trevor’s body is pressed against mine. And if that weren’t enough, he’s kissing me. Suddenly I think I can feel every cell inside myself, and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this awake—this alive. My body goes soft and pliant, pressing against his as I open my mouth to him. His tongue plunges inside my mouth and I can think of other things of his I want inside me. My hands have a mind of their own and they’re exploring his shoulders, his ribs, all the muscles that hockey has honed and hardened.
Hockey. This is Trevor. Trevor.
I jerk back, breaking the kiss and dropping my hands away from him. One of his arms is wrapped around me, the other braced against the door. He’s pressing into me and I can feel how hard he is. He doesn’t move an inch.
He gives me that same maddening smirk from this afternoon. “Is something wrong?”
I notice just how out of breath I am. “Yes, something’s wrong. This. This is wrong, Trevor. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
I gape at him, trying to ignore the fact that his body is still warm on mine and the fact that I’d do just about anything to get him to kiss me again. I push those feelings back. We can’t. “You’re my son’s best friend. I watched you grow up. You’re…so young.”
He leans in close, and I lose my breath again. “And now that I’m grown up, I know exactly what I want.” He presses his lips against my neck, and my skin tingles. I feel my nipples harden into peaks and god, everything about him is overwhelming. I want him. But there are so many things. What happens if Brad finds out I slept with his best friend? If anyone finds out I had sex with a man half my age. “Trevor…why?”
It’s the only word I can force out of my mouth that encompasses everything I’m feeling. Why do I want him, why does he want me, why is any of this happening? “Stella,” he says, and I get wet at the sound of him saying my name in that voice—rough and raw and painting images in my mind of sleepless nights and skin on skin. I think he might say something else, but he kisses me again, and it’s fierce. His mouth possesses mine, and every thought I had, every argument I wanted to make is gone. There’s nothing that can stand up to the way this feels.
He molds me to him, and I let him. My body is singing, and if this is kissing than anything more is going to be the goddamn hallelujah chorus. His hands slide down my back and he grinds his hips against mine, the state of his cock more than obvious. Every tilt of his hips and stroke of his hands make me want him more, sparks of pleasure rushing across my skin and downward, collecting in my core.
A knock on the door makes me freeze. “Stella?” It’s Maria. “You okay in there?”
I look up at Trevor in shock, the realization of what I was just doing washing over me like a bucket of ice. Trevor’s smile tells me he regrets nothing. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll be right out.”
“Have you seen Trevor?” she asks. “He disappeared.”
Trevor thrusts his hips into mine again, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. “I’ve been in here the whole time,” I say, my voice sounding thin. “Maybe he went upstairs? I’ll be out in just a minute.”
I hear Maria walk away and I untangle myself from Trevor. I splash water on my face, across my mouth. I run my fingers through my hair. God, if anyone is looking for it they’ll be able to see, and I’m screwed. I don’t even know what to say to Trevor. I can’t. I turn to the door, and he hauls he me back against him. My body is flush against him, his cock pressed against my ass, and his lips are at my ear. “Why not?”
He releases me just as suddenly and I stumble out of the bathroom, trying to pick my wits back up off the floor. “I think the sweater will live,” I say, as I enter the dining room, adding a smile that I hope is convincing.
Thankfully no one seems to look too closely at me or notice the tell-tale signs that I just had a make out session in the bathroom. Even though I just got done spilling it, I finish the rest of my wine before returning to my food. The conversation continues around me, now discussing the length of time it takes to prepare Richard’
s potatoes.
It’s another few minutes before Trevor returns. “Sorry about that,” he says, grinning and looking directly at me. “I had to take care of something that couldn’t wait.”
4
It’s always rough the first night with family, getting everyone settled into their rooms, making sure everyone has enough towels and that they have everything they need for a good night’s sleep. However, after what seems like a hundred trips back and forth, my family is successfully settled and in bed. Since Trevor has excused himself to take a shower—and I am actively ignoring the image of him naked and wet—I make up his makeshift bed on the couch and finally have some time to chat with Brad.
“You feel good about your finals?” I ask, knowing he had been nervous. He’s majoring in engineering, and it’s not an easy major.
“Pretty good,” he says. “My advanced calculus one sucked, but everything else was pretty easy.”
I laugh. “Probably the last semester for that, right?”
“Right.” His classes will only get harder as time goes on.
I finish with the couch, and Brad follows me into the kitchen as I pull out the small pint of ice cream I bought for just us. An old habit of ours, a few bites of ice cream while sharing about the day. Brad grabs the spoons, and soon we’re sitting across the breakfast bar from each other like nothing has changed.
“So…” I start, hesitant. “How’s Leigh?”
Brad’s face falls. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I’m not a fan of his girlfriend, who reminds me in some ways of Brad’s father, but I’ve tried to be supportive. He needs to make his own choices and his own mistakes.
