Chapter 3

"It goes tallest to shortest. I'm third. I have to stand behind Claire. But the stupid thing is, I'm taller than Claire."

"No you're not. I'm taller than you, and Claire's definitely taller than I am." I always remembered looking up at my aunt.

"Bullshit," came Lily's reply. Her brown eyes squinted harshly. "You are not taller than me."

"C'mere," I challenged, walking toward the mirror over my dresser. "Stand back-to-back." We backed together. I could feel her shoulder blades on mine. Our heads touched.

"See, I'm taller." I was trying to glance sideways at the mirror without giving a centimeter.

"No way. Look, my ears are higher than yours."

"What? Like hell."

"Face-to-face," she commanded. On impulse, we spun around and faced one another, our noses nearly touching. We were so close, our eyes couldn't focus with any real clarity. As anyone who's been this close to another person can testify, what your eyes can't see, other senses such as smell compete desperately to compensate. Her breath smelled like the lemon drop she'd been sucking on. Its vapor was cool on my lips. Not like the tip of her nose, now touching mine. Her nose was not cold. It was... Her voice dropped, hesitating.

"See, I'm a little taller." she said, pushing her forehead against mine. We were standing so—too—close. I thought of nothing, wanted to think of nothing. It was her chest against mine that I felt now. Touch, a powerful and subversive sense homed in on the pressure exerted by her breasts; her shallows breathing making them rise and fall; downwards at our kneecaps, her left touching my right; our feet, again left on right. A lifetime.

Unconsciously, I breathed her in. 'You might be, ' said my head. 'You might be, ' it said again. I realized I was being prompted. 'Say it. Say it, stupid'.

"You might be," I breathed. She turned her head ever so slightly, as if to drink the words were the sole means by which to consume their meaning. Her nose moved past, astride mine, touching my cheek. She closed her eyes. At least, I think she did. I couldn't focus. I was only present so far as the senses of touch and smell permit. Aside from the tangible, I was riding a loose tether from my body, somewhere over my father's faded tile-roof. Her hair brushed against my other cheek and Touch said, 'Let me take it from here... because you're too stupid to realize she's kissing you.' And that's when I noticed the softness of her lips.

My hands went to her hips, pulling her toward me. Her arms were around my neck, telling not asking. Instinctively, I leaned back. My legs recognized my bed and she came down on top of me. Our mouths moved over one another ravenous, playful. She was pushing, pushing herself forward, on lips so full and impossibly hungry.

Oh, to say how we fit. Our bodies felt meshed and I dare not think of anything else. As we burrowed deeper into my bed, my fingers sought the relentless curls of her hair, running through them with abandon, kissing down her chin and under her neck. I reached the triangle at her clavicle, whilst my hands ventured up her back under her thin cotton top. Her skin was afire, the curves of her spine alight beneath my fingertips.

I traced her back at the thin horizontal line of her bra strap. She breathed hot into my ear, before laying her mouth over my skin once more, sucking and biting. I pushed my hardness against her, her legs going apart so I could press on her dampening crotch. Our tongues met, a necessity to contain the moans that had begun in the spinal nerves, and translated into moans which crept up the back of our throats, racing toward our enjoined lips.

Her body coursed with such an energy I felt as if we had but one end to achieve. Not a moment later, her delicate digits found the button on my pants. She stopped kissing me and pulled back to address my eyes.

"I'm going to do this for you." She breathed the words out easily. So easily. "Then we have to stop." She moved down my chest, her head nestled into my stomach, kissing. There was suddenly something awkward and strange here. A ringing in my brain. Incessant and patronizing. Her words: 'I'm doing this for you... then we have to stop'? What the hell did that mean? It sounded like she was setting this whole thing up. My mind was spinning out of control. We were just standing there talking about who was taller... before that... then it hit me.

"No! Stop." My hands went for hers. I began pulling myself away, a wave of nausea sweeping over me. She was fighting me, playfully, determinedly. 'It's OK, ' she seemed to be saying.

"Stop. Stop. Stop. Goddamn it, STOP!" She rolled off me, and brushed the hair out of her face. I looked down at her and myself, my jeans undone, my boxers partially down.

"This is—What are you trying to do?" My brain was jumbled as sexual thoughts tried vainly to compete with rational ones.

"What do you mean? I'm—Nothing." Clearly, she was very embarrassed now. Well, good. I got off my bed and fastened my jeans. I looked down at her. I was on the point of shaking.

"You're doing me a favor? Like I'm all stressed out or something, so my soon-to-be stepsister is going to blow me?! What the fuck kind of joke is that? Is that how you are? I don't even know—Jesus Christ, what were we even doing? We're going to be related. This isn't right. And you're talking about doing something for me? Fuck that... fuck you!" She rolled up and sat upright on my bed, a confused look on her face.

"Woah," she started. "That is completely off." I wasn't hearing it. I couldn't face the prospect of walking out into the main living room, just in case someone saw me. Instead I went for the bathroom. I closed the door and sat down hard on the toilet seat. I heard Lily. She spoke low, close to the other side.