“Being here with you is fucking torture.” She groans.
“Yeah, well, you’re no picnic either, princess,” I tell her, not letting her win this round.
“God, I can’t believe I have to survive two weeks here. I’d rather sleep in my car than breathe the same air as you.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on your perky little ass on the way out, then.” I cross my arms over my chest and run my tongue along my bottom lip. She intently watches me. Her eyes dart from my eyes to my mouth, daring me to cross that line. I move in closer to her, testing her. She doesn’t budge; my lips are so close to hers that if I moved another inch, they’d touch.
The warmness of her breath brushes against my cheek and for a moment, I almost pull her to my chest and give in to what her body’s begging for. It’d be so easy to run my fingers through her hair and pull her lips close to mine. I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. She’s my best friend’s little sister, of course I have. She’s always been the forbidden fruit, the girl I’m not supposed to want. Over the course of pissing her off and pushing her away, she’s grown to hate me more than I believed possible. I hear her breath catch as our bodies inch closer, almost as if she’s anticipating it. I have her under my spell, whether or not she’ll ever admit it, but I won’t give Viola anything until she begs for it.
I take a step back, flashing a wide, knowing grin. She releases a deep groan, narrows her eyes at me, and storms off back to Drew’s room. She doesn’t slam the door this time, and I’m relieved to finally have some space from her, even if I’ll be thinking about her lips, her perky tits, and the way she shimmied her bare ass in front of me for a long, long time.
VIOLA
I must have a brain tumor or something because it felt like Travis was almost, maybe about to kiss me.
Ha! That’s insane.
The last time I fell for his smooth ways, he broke my young, fragile heart. No way am I letting myself go down that path again. I might’ve only been twelve at the time, but it’s not exactly something you just get over. I wasn’t just a girl crushing on her older brother’s best friend. He didn’t treat me like a little kid. He actually made me feel special.
I’ll never forget the time Drew called me stupid in front of his friends. It made me so mad I ran to the backyard and cried my eyes out. Travis left them and sat next to me as I ripped flowers from the ground. He made everything seem simple, easy even, as he wiped my tears away. He grabbed my hand, pulling me to the ground with him, and we looked up at the clouds. I was more important than his friends and video games. That’s when Travis King wasn’t full of himself and preoccupied with bagging every hot girl he meets. He was a boy with manners, who always seemed to say the right things to me.
I was a naive little girl. I know that now. But when you watch your Prince Charming tap every other girl around you— including your best friend since second grade— it’s easy to believe something must be wrong with you when he never looks your way.
I thought, maybe if I was smarter. Or skinnier. Or had bigger boobs and longer legs. If I was just something more, he’d see me as more than just his friend’s kid sister.
So basically, I hated myself all through middle school and hated him even more through high school. He toyed with my self-esteem and I grew to hate him for that, too.
I knew all of that stuff was petty. It was immature and lame, but now after all the years of feeling rejected, I can’t stand being around him. He’s a constant reminder that I’ll never be good enough. He goes out of his way to get under my skin, and I refuse to tolerate it—even if he still affects me in ways I wished he didn’t.
Having to spend the next two weeks alone in a house with Travis King is going to be pure torture. Even though I’d been able to avoid him once he and Drew moved off to college, I only had to tolerate him when I drove up to visit Drew. Then I got a full scholarship offer from the same college and everything changed again. Being close to Drew was important to me: My parents were divorced, neither of their houses felt like a home, my roommate threw weekend keggers, and I just needed somewhere to hide out and study. Aside from sleeping at the school library, Drew and Travis’ house was my only option. On weekends Travis was gone, it became my sanctuary. But of course, he’d return and ruin it all.