says softly, and immediately, my smile grows wide as I slap his back. “I’ll do it.”
“There it is,” I say proudly, and we both get up and realize we can’t really stand with all the alcohol in our bodies.
We’re kind of afraid to look at each other, I think, because Parker refuses to meet my eyes. But he looks weirdly happy, excited. I knew he was struggling with less money to play with, but I didn’t think he’d be this willing. And obviously, there’s the subject of my stepsister. Sweet, long-legged June. It makes it all worth it if it means I get to taste that full mouth of hers.
Fuck. Am I going to go through with this?
“When do I start?” Parker asks after a minute or so passes, and I look at him to see him grinning. That’s the spirit, brother, I think proudly. I’m about to explain his role in the game—making sure June trusts me, convincing her I’m a good guy—when he speaks up again.
“You know, I did always have a little crush on June. I know, it’s weird… We were always so close. But this is the perfect chance to get it out of my system.” He gives me a wicked smile. “I wonder if she’s a virgin.”
My blood freezes in my veins, and all my hairs stand on end.
What the fuck just happened?
I’ve really fucking messed up this time.
I wake up with a roaring hangover and run to throw up in the sink, my mind pounding with yesterday’s conversation with my twin.
After Parker misunderstood me, I made the worst possible move, which I’m only realizing now. I threw up and went to sleep, and I never once told him I wanted to be the one who married June.
Thinking about it now as I wash my face and mouth, I realize Parker has a point. He’s the one who was always closer to June; he’s her best friend, her confidant. She trusts him. Sure, she cares about me too, but June and Parker… it just makes more sense.
But my goddamn jealous mind won’t accept it.
Parker must understand. He must. Because I’m not giving June up.
I walk back into the living room where Parker is stretched out on the couch.
“I’m dying,” he informs me, and despite all the worries, I smirk. He has always had a flair for the dramatic. Might be because he’s an artist.
I bring him a tall glass of water, and he drinks it in big gulps, finally sitting up and groaning all the while. “So, last night,” he says tiredly. "Fucking shit. What the fuck did we do?"
My heart beats faster, and I prepare myself to speak up.
“We’re never drinking that shit tequila again,” Parker grimaces, and I laugh nervously. Is it possible that he has completely forgotten about our conversation? We were hammered...
Parker doesn’t bring up the plan with a single word. He doesn’t even mention June.
I’m confused but figure it’s best to keep my mouth shut. When I go off to the offices, I’m feeling nervous and relieved at the same time. I wish Parker a great day.
“Get sober soon!” I yell on my way out and am accompanied by Parker’s laughter as I close the door. A smile appears on my face as I take the stairs to the lobby.
Did I just get away with this drunken fucking mistake?
June
9 years ago
It was time to say goodbye to the old treehouse.
Our life as we knew it was over. We would move and start over in a new home. Our parents had clung to our old family house for as long as they could, but it didn't make sense to stay there anymore. Not when their company was turning over such big profits. We'd move that weekend, a new place in a safer, more expensive neighborhood. I was excited, but the thought of leaving all those memories behind stung.
So, I found myself sitting in the treehouse that morning. It was bright and early. Our parents were at the office, and my stepbrothers were still asleep. I climbed the rickety stepladder to the treehouse and smiled when I realized I couldn't stand straight in it anymore, either. My fingertips glided over things that were once considered treasures, which now laid forgotten, soaked by rain and mud in the abandoned playhouse.
I wondered whether the wooden box was still there. I looked for it, turning over rotting comic books and forgotten clothes. But it was nowhere to be found.