Chapter 1: Beginning
The apartment smelled like microwaved popcorn and stale carpet cleaner. Luke stretched his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers just brushing Chloe’s shoulder. On the screen, a car chase exploded through a generic European city, but he wasn’t really watching. He was too aware of the warm weight of Chloe against his side, the way her strawberry shampoo cut through the other smells.
“This is nice,” he murmured into her hair.
“It is,” she said, tilting her head to smile at him. “Just us.”
The key turned in the lock just as the hero delivered a cheesy one-liner. The door swung open, and Mia bustled in, dropping her work satchel and keys on the small entry table with a clatter. She kicked off her heels, not even glancing at the couch.
“God, what a day,” she announced to the room, padding into the open-plan living area in her stockinged feet. She went straight to the kitchen, the fluorescent light buzzing to life. “Traffic was a nightmare. You guys eating popcorn for dinner? Real healthy, Luke.”
“We ate earlier,” Luke said, his arm tightening slightly around Chloe. “Just a snack.”
Mia pulled a wine glass from the cupboard, the sound overly loud. “Uh-huh.” She opened the fridge, the light bleaching her sharp features for a moment. “You finish that paper for Poli-Sci?”
“Mostly.”
“You should finish it. Procrastination is a disease.” She poured a generous amount of white wine and finally turned, leaning against the kitchen counter as if she owned the stage. Her eyes flicked to the TV, then to Chloe. “Oh, hey Chloe. You’re here.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said, her voice flattening. “I am.”
“Cool.” Mia took a long sip, her gaze lingering on where Chloe’s hand rested on Luke’s thigh. “Don’t let me interrupt your… movie.”
She said the word like it was something trivial. She didn’t leave, though. She just stood there, drinking, watching them watch the movie. The silence stretched, filled only with the movie’s generic soundtrack.
Chloe shifted. “So, Mia, how was work?”
“Tedious. But important. I’m actually mentoring a new junior associate. It’s a lot of hand-holding.” She took another sip. “You’d know all about that, I guess, being in school still.”
Chloe’s smile was thin. “Yeah, I guess. Though my hand-holding usually involves study groups, not corporate law. Must be nice to have it all figured out.”
“Planning helps. Luke could use more of that.” Mia’s tone was light, needle-sharp.
“He seems to be doing okay to me,” Chloe said, patting Luke’s leg. “Manages his time just fine.”
“Does he?” Mia raised an eyebrow. “His laundry’s been in the dryer for two days. His ‘time management’ mostly involves me reminding him to eat something that didn’t come from a vending machine.”
Luke felt a hot knot form in his stomach. “Come on, Mia. Lay off.”
“I’m just saying.” She shrugged, a deliberate, infuriating motion. “It’s cute you think he’s so independent, Chloe. Really. It’s sweet.”
Chloe sat up straight, pulling away from Luke’s side. The loss of contact felt like a draft. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. It’s just an observation. You’re very… supportive. Like a cheerleader.”
“And you’re very… present,” Chloe shot back, her voice cool. “For a sister. Do you just hang around all night waiting to critique his life, or is this a special performance for me?”
Mia put her glass down with a sharp click. “I live here. This is my home. I’m allowed to be in my own living room.”
“Absolutely. It’s just interesting how often you’re in it the second I am. Almost like clockwork.”
“Maybe our schedules just align. Not everything is about you, Chloe.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Okay, stop,” Luke said, his voice louder than he intended. He looked at Chloe, pleading. “Just… can you not? She’s just making conversation.”
Chloe turned to him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Making conversation? Are you serious? She’s being a bitch, Luke. A condescending, passive-aggressive bitch, and you’re just sitting here letting her do it.”
“Chloe!” He was shocked by the word.
“What? It’s true. She hates that I’m here. She hates that you have a girlfriend. She wants you all to herself like some… some creepy little doll she can dress up and boss around.”
Mia gasped, a hand flying to her chest in mock outrage. “Wow. Insecure much? This is my brother. My family. Of course I care about who he spends his time with. Maybe if you were more confident in your relationship, you wouldn’t see basic concern as a threat.”
“Basic concern?” Chloe laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. “You’re not his mom, Mia. You’re his sister. And you need to back the fuck up.”
“Chloe, that’s enough,” Luke said, his own frustration boiling over. He was embarrassed, caught in the middle. “Just… be cool. She’s my sister. Don’t talk to her like that.”
Chloe stared at him. The anger in her face slowly hardened into something colder, more distant. “You’re unbelievable,” she said, her voice quiet now, which was worse. “Completely fucking spineless.” She turned back to the screen, grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it into her mouth, chewing pointedly.
The rest of the movie played out in a thick, suffocating silence. Mia eventually took her wine and retreated to her bedroom, shutting the door with a soft, definitive click. Luke didn’t dare move. He felt Chloe radiating cold fury beside him. When the credits finally rolled, she stood up without a word, collected her purse from the floor, and slid her shoes on.
“You leaving?” he asked, stupidly.
“Yeah. I’ve got an early class.” She didn’t look at him.
“Okay. I’ll text you.”
“Whatever.”
She left, closing the front door softly behind her. It was worse than if she’d slammed it. Luke slumped back into the couch, running his hands over his face. He felt like shit. He’d messed up. He should have defended her, or at least told Mia to give them space. But Mia was just… Mia. She didn’t mean it like that. Did she?
A few minutes later, Mia’s door opened. She’d changed into soft yoga pants and an old t-shirt. Her face was clean of makeup, and she looked younger, gentler. She didn’t say anything, just walked over and sat down on the couch where Chloe had been, but closer, tucking her feet underneath her.
“You okay?” she asked softly.
“No,” Luke muttered. “She’s pissed.”
“She’ll get over it. She was looking for a fight.” Mia reached out and put a hand on his knee. “I’m sorry if I started it. I just worry about you. You’re so… trusting.”
He sighed, the warmth of her hand seeping through his jeans. “I know. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re sad.” Her voice was a murmur now. She shifted, curling her body towards him. “Come here.” She opened her arms.
Grateful for the comfort, he leaned into her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head onto her shoulder. Her body was soft, her t-shirt smelled of her fabric softener and her own clean skin. She began to stroke his hair, her fingers moving slowly through the short strands.
“You’re such a good guy, Luke,” she whispered, her lips close to his ear. “Too good for drama like that. You just want everyone to be happy.”
He nodded against her, closing his eyes. The physical contact was soothing, a balm after the conflict. Her hand drifted from his hair down to his neck, her thumb rubbing little circles on his skin.
“She doesn’t appreciate you,” Mia breathed. Her hand slid down his arm, then came to rest on his chest, right over his heart. He could feel its steady beat under her palm. “Not like I do.”
Something in her tone felt off, too intimate, but he was too drained to parse it. He just let himself be held. Her other hand was still in his hair, scratching his scalp gently. Then her fingers trailed down, tracing the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw.
“Remember when you were little?” she said, her voice a low, private hum. “You’d have a bad dream and crawl into my bed. You’d curl up right against my back, like a little koala.”
He gave a weak laugh, a flush of embarrassment warming his cheeks. “Yeah, I remember.”
“You felt so safe then.” Her hand on his chest drifted lower, her fingertips brushing absently over his stomach. He became acutely aware of her body pressed along his side, the weight of her leg now resting over his.
A different kind of warmth was spreading through him, one that coiled low in his gut. He tried to shift, to create a polite distance, but she held him closer.
“Mia…”
“Shhh. It’s okay.” Her hand slipped from his stomach, coming to rest high on his inner thigh. “Just relax.”
He was fully hard now, a rigid, undeniable line straining against the fly of his jeans. Mortification burned through him. He snapped his hands down, cupping them awkwardly over his crotch to hide the bulge.
Mia went very still for a second. Then he felt her smile against his temple.
“What’s that?” she teased, her voice dripping with false innocence. “You hiding something?”
“No. Stop.” His voice cracked.
“Let me see.” Her hand, the one that had been on his thigh, darted out and started tickling his side.
He jerked, a strangled laugh escaping him as he squirmed. “Mia, don’t!”
“Come on, move your hands! I’m just tickling you!” She was relentless, her fingers digging into his ribs, his hip, anywhere she could reach. He writhed, laughter and panic warring in his throat as he tried desperately to keep his hands clamped over his erection.
“Get off!” he gasped, but he was laughing, which undermined the command completely.
In his flailing, her hand slipped. It wasn’t an accident. Her fingers brushed firmly, deliberately, over the thick outline of his cock through the denim. He froze.
Her tickling stopped. Her hand stayed there, a warm, pressing weight right over him. She let out a soft, breathy sound. “Oh, Luke.”
He shoved himself away from her, scrambling to the far end of the couch, his face on fire, his hands still futilely trying to cover the obvious tent in his pants. He couldn’t look at her. His heart hammered against his ribs.
Mia just watched him, her eyes dark and unreadable. A small, knowing smile played on her lips. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she said softly. “It’s natural.”
“Just… shut up,” he managed to choke out. He stood up, hunched over, and practically ran for the sanctuary of his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it, his breath coming in ragged gulps. He could still feel the ghost of her hand on him, the shocking, shameful thrill of it. From the living room, he heard her laugh, quiet and satisfied.