by Vivian Wood
This was a party. A real, grownup party, the kind of thing she only had to wait two more years for until she could fully dive in herself. There was some kind of magic in these parties, but a restlessness, too. Everyone was just trying so hard, lubricating their insecurities with liquor paid for with student loans. Ellie wanted something more, even as the pinkish liquid swam its way into her head.
And then she saw him.
She could have spotted him rooms away. The way he held himself, broad shoulders riding on a crafted chest, clear even through the button-up. How he ran his hands through dirty blond hair that darkened just a touch each year. They were a man’s hands, not a boy’s, with thick and bronzed fingers and the right amount of roughness that told the world he knew how to use them.
“Henry!” she called, a part of her noticing her voice was too loud. “Hey, Henry!” She couldn’t quiet herself. Her legs, slim but defined from years on the track team, ushered her over to him seemingly on their own.
“Oh, Ellie,” he said, turning away from the stunning woman he’d been talking to. “How, uh, how are you?” he asked, his eyes wide. He looked at her like she was a stranger. One he couldn’t take his eyes off.
“I’m good!” she said, pulling a curtain of hair over her shoulder. “When… when did you get back? Eli didn’t say anything about you being back. Are you—”
“Only last week,” he said. “I’m just on leave. I haven’t had time to catch up with everyone yet. But I did text your brothers. Eli’s the one who told me about the party.”
Damnit, Eli. You could have told me. “Oh! He didn’t say anything to me. It’s so good to see you! Don’t I get a hug?” Thank goodness for liquid courage.
As Henry reached down to embrace her, the room slowed. Even in her four-inch heels, he had to bend down to reach her. Was it just her? Or was the entire world halting? She felt the heat of his forearm on her back, the knot of his rolled-up sleeves pressed against the swell of her hips, and the way his face fit into the hollow of her neck without hesitation. From his breath on her neck to the pleasing scratch of stubble against her own soft cheeks, the entirety of the moment was ablaze.
As he pulled away, her fingers clutched onto his arm a little too long. Did he feel it? It was palpable. Embarrassed by the heat between her legs and what she was sure the redness of her face betrayed, Ellie tucked a thick lock behind her ear. She was grateful to be holding the drink in her other hand. Stop touching your hair! You look nervous.
Henry backed away from her, obviously scrambling for composure. “This is Ellie, Eli’s sister,” Henry said to the towering goddess beside him. “Ellie, this is—I’m sorry. What was your name?”
“Right,” the deity said, doe eyes darting between Ellie and Henry. “I’m going to refresh my drink,” she said, starting to turn. “Are you coming, Henry?”
“Yeah, yeah. See you, Ellie,” he said, following the gazelle into the kitchen.
“Hey! Champagne? It’s getting posh in here.” Oh, the bartender again. At least this time he was serving a purpose—literally.
“Yes. Please,” Ellie said, grabbing two slender flutes.
She downed the first, being careful to lick the rim of the glass first to keep her lipstick intact.
“Hey! Pace yourself,” he muttered, stumbling away while miraculously keeping his tray laden with drinks upright. With one swallow, she finished the second.
Leaning against the banister, she watched Henry dancing with the blonde whose name he couldn’t even recall. You shouldn’t pout, she told herself. After all, he was twenty-eight and in the Navy, so what did she expect? She knew what they said about sailors and Fleet Week. She imagined he killed it at Fleet Week. He could have anyone he wanted.
The speakers squawked as someone pulled the aux cord from the tablet, plugging in their own phone. She hated that. Why couldn’t people just let whoever was hosting play their own music? The harsh noise stopped the sea of dancers in the midst of their song as drunken protests rang out, but when “Said You Won’t Let Go” began to play everyone quieted down. A slow song. She needed this song, deserved this song.
Making her way through the throngs of sudden twosomes, she touched Henry’s arm. His heat pulsed through her palm like lightning. “May I have this dance?” she asked, overly formal in case he refused. Then she could play it off as a joke.
The blonde raised a brow and shook her head, maneuvering toward the bar.
Henry sighed as he took Ellie by the waist and wound his left hand through hers. “Just one,” he said. “Then I’m heading out.”
“Just one,” she promised. His hand on her back, their wrists pressed tight, everywhere they touched emitted sparks of promise. Looking up, she swore there was something tucked into those chocolate eyes of his. Lust? Maybe. Or maybe she was just imagining the whole thing.
“You’ve become a lot better at this compared to that tap dance routine when you were five,” he said. She cocked her head, then laughed. She’d completely forgotten about that. Henry had been in her life ever since she could remember, an almost adopted fourth child by her parents. In that moment, her heart ached for him. It was the same pull she'd felt two years ago when he'd first left for the Navy.
“Do you want to know a secret?” she asked.
“Always.”
“You were my first love,” she whispered, pulling him close. “Shhh! Don’t tell anybody.”
“Were?” he asked, raising his brows in mock surprise. “You mean you’re already over me?”
“No! That’s not what I meant,” she said. Was the room spinning faster? A lump started to grow in her throat, but she forced herself to ignore it. That damn cheap champagne. “I mean, I had the biggest crush on you. Seriously. I mean, for years.”
Henry laughed, releasing her hand. “Ellie, you’re drunk,” he said. “And I’m sorry, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but there’s no way I’d ever hook up with a little girl. Especially Eli’s sister. I think it’s just the alcohol talking.”
“No! I’m serious. Oh God, I don’t feel good.”
“Come on,” Henry said, taking her elbow. “Let’s go outside for some fresh air.”
The lawn was covered with cocktail napkins and half-full glasses. On the porch swing, two college girls were making out while a group of boys cheered them on. “Over here,” Henry said, directing her to the curb. “College kids,” he said with a shake of his head.
“You know,” Ellie said, “I didn’t mean, like, love love. I just mean I always really liked you. I’m sorry. This is stupid.”
“No. No, it’s okay,” Henry said. “I’m sorry I laughed. It’s just—I’ve known you for a really long time. Ever since… ever since my parents died when I was a kid, your family has been so kind to me. Treating me, well, normal. You know? That’s tough. It’s hard to find.”
“So, what? You think of me like a sister?” Her heart anchored down into her belly.
“No,” he said. “Actually, no. Is that strange? I’ve known you since you were born. But, no, I never thought of you like a sister. A friend, sure, but not a sister. You’ve gotta believe me, kid.”
“Don’t call me kid,” she said. “I’m not.”
“I know that,” he said. There it was again, that pulling in his eyes. He’d never looked at her like that before.
“Let me prove it,” she said, leaning into him. Tilting her head and parting her lips, even as her eyes fluttered shut she could sense him mirroring her.
Their lips met, the sweetness of the champagne mixing with the cold crisp taste of his own lingering beer. Her tongue flicked across his and he bit gently into her lower lip, but he pulled away just as she felt wetness start to blossom between her thighs.
“Ellie, we can’t,” he said. “I’m just… I’m just not interested in you like that. You have to understand you’re way too young.”
“I’m sixteen,” she said.
“Jesus. Exactly,” he said. “You’re too young for me, and you always will
be.”
The lump in her throat was back with a vengeance, urged on by the hot tears pricking her eyes. “Henry—” she stammered, but it was too late. Throwing her head forward, she vomited a week’s worth of drinks onto his canvas shoes. The mystery pink drink, the champagne, a whiskey and Coke from much earlier in the night, all of it.
“Ellie!”
“Your shoes.” She couldn’t stop the tears now. “I’m sorry. Your shoes…”
“It’s okay. Who cares about the shoes? Get it all out, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it.” Henry’s hand on her back pumped a red hot heat into her, calming her. It was nearly paternal in nature, but not quite. Not quite.
“Henry! Ellie? What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Eli appeared from the corner of her eye, loping off the porch.
“I… I just…”
“She just had too much to drink,” Henry said. “She’s okay.”
“Thanks for taking care of her, man,” Eli said. “Dammit, Ellie, I told you that you could only come if I didn’t have to babysit you.”
She lowered her face to her arms, letting her hair serve as a blanket. Just like a kid scared of what’s under the bed.
“Maybe you should take her home,” Henry told Eli.
“Yeah. You know, Ellie, you’re one serious buzzkill.” She felt Eli lifting her up by the arms. “Come on.”
“Sorry,” she mouthed to Henry.
“No sorries,” Henry told her, smiling. That smile. It always did her in.
Chapter Two
“Congrats, baby sister!” Eli crowed over the phone. “Finished with Georgetown, and a semester early at that.”
“Thanks, Eli. Or do I have to say Mr. President since you’re calling from the casa blanca now?”
“I’ll let it slide since it’s your big graduation night.” She could hear a tinge of that formal voice he'd used all throughout his campaign. It had started when he became a senator four years ago, one of the youngest in Virginia, and he’d honed it ever since then. “Besides, I’m just barely the President,” he said. “I was just inaugurated last week.”
“Wow, way to make my college graduation all about you,” Ellie teased. She was proud of her brother, really. But graduating from college and being the youngest POTUS ever weren’t even close to being in the same ballpark.
“Sorry, Ellie,” Eli said. “So, tell me. How was graduation? I’m sorry Mer and I couldn’t make it. She sends her love too, of course. She’ll call you in the morning.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “It’s not really a big deal. Not much hoopla when you graduate in January. It was a pretty small ceremony.”
“I know, but without Mom and Dad being able to be there too, I just… I just wish I could have made it.”
“You’re busy,” she said. “They’re busy. I get it.” It was freezing. Whose idea had it been to go clubbing in D.C. in the middle of January? Not even her vintage fur coat, scored for a steal while thrifting, was enough to ward off the chill. The open-toed ankle booties, which had looked really good in her warm home in front of the full-length mirror, now seemed ridiculous when she looked at her exposed skin. Who cared about warm ankles when your toes were getting frostbitten?
“Are you celebrating?” he asked. “Did you get the gift I sent?”
“Yeah, and yeah. I’m out with friends now at some club downtown. I saw the delivery notification, but I haven’t been home to open your gift yet.”
“It doesn’t sound like you’re at a club. My security team is already monitoring some calls, you know. You can’t lie,” he teased.
“I’m outside. In the alley.”
“Ellie, go back inside! It’s nearly snowing.”
“Okay, okay! You’re the one who called.”
“And open that gift soon. Spoiler alert, it’s a new laptop. And keys to the mountain cabin—in case you want to stay there while you figure out what’s next.”
Ellie laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I think I’d miss the city too much.”
“Your call,” he said. “But you have the keys now. It’s available for you any time. I don’t think I’ll be able to take a vacation anytime soon. At least for the next four to eight years.”
“Yeah, yeah. Way to rub it in.”
“Go get your drink on, baby sis.”
“Thanks, Mr. President.”
When Ellie turned the corner, the line to get in had spread down the block. She glanced behind her and smiled at the dutiful bodyguards right on her heels. “Cold, miss?” one of them asked. She shook her head.
As she held up her wrist to show her entry stamp, the bouncer scanned her body. “Damn, girl, you don’t need no stamp.” He unhooked the red velvet rope from its brass holster with a sharp click. “Them boys with you, too?” This wasn’t the same bouncer as when she'd arrived. He didn’t know who she was—or, more correctly, who her brother was. One of the bodyguards flashed his badge. “My bad,” the bouncer said, “Y’all have a good time.”
She rarely went out, especially dressed like this. But she loved the VIP access.
Scanning the pulsing crowd, she picked out her best friend at the bar. Samantha had a way of commanding attention even when some of the most beautiful girls imaginable were flanked around her. She'd worked her way through college modeling, all while maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Sam wasn’t the only model at Georgetown, especially if you counted all the Instagram models, but she was the only one who actually made a living at it.
As Ellie wove her way through the crowd, bodyguards in tow, she couldn’t help but drink in the utter grace of Sam’s body. It was so unlike her own. Wish as she might, Ellie never did grow taller than a hair shy of five foot seven, whereas Sam was close to six feet tall. Ellie kept her hair long all these years, while Sam’s wild and coarse blonde mane grew so fast she could buzz it and have a bouncy bob just a few months later. Ellie’s slim waist complemented her wide hips and generous breasts, while Sam was all lank and lithe and slight swells of muscle. They couldn’t have been more different, and that’s what first drew them together.
“Hey!” Ellie sidled up next to Sam. “What’s up?”
“Not much,” Sam shouted over the music. “I’m debating who’s going to be the lucky guy tonight,” she said with a smirk. Sam laughed that throaty music that contrasted with her otherwise willowy appearance. “So—tonight’s the night, huh? I can’t believe you’ve waited this long to punch your v-card! I did it at fourteen.”
“Oh, I know!” Ellie said. “Everyone knows,” she teased, elbowing Sam’s ribs.
“Ow! Don’t bruise my boobs. Those are my moneymakers,” Sam said.
“Oh, please. You’re not a stripper,” Ellie said, taking a sip of Sam’s go-to drink, gin and tonic, extra lime. “And anyway, I had protective older brothers. If Eli’s not scary enough with the whole POTUS thing, there’s always Ryan! I didn’t have the chance in high school. And some of us were actually studying in college, Miss Jet-Setter!”
“Uh-huh,” Sam said, sliding her drink back. “So, where is Sean, anyway?”
“I don’t know. He was here earlier… I’m going to look for him.”
“A lot of work for one guy!” Sam called after her. “Look around, it’s like fish in a barrel here.”
Ellie started her slow round of the room, searching for Sean and his signature black, thick hair. He was usually one of the tallest people in the room, but tonight with all the women teetering on platforms it was impossible to see beyond the few clutches of groups and couples around her.
She’d been with Sean for two years, and she had to appreciate his patience. He’d never pressured her to have sex, letting her take her own time. She was twenty-two now, which was plenty old enough, right? Besides, they were moving in together next month! At this point, marriage was certainly right around the corner. He was a great guy, a sweet guy. Smart, attentive, and he even put up with all of Sam’s antics. And he was attractive, she knew. Plenty of people told her, and if she were designing the perf
ect man, he’d certainly be an inspiration. Still, there was something missing. She hated the word “spark,” but the more she thought about it, the more the word fit.
Sean just didn’t light her up like when she was younger. Not like Henry did. Maybe that was okay though? Ellie shook her head. Stop it. There’s no need to think about marriage right now. Of course it sounds scary, even terrifying. I’m too young!
But sex? That she could give Sean. The least she could do was end his suffering. That’s it, as soon as I find him we’re going back to his place and doing it. Just get it over with. She’d even used some early graduation gift cards from her sorority sisters for some sexy lingerie from Frederick’s of Hollywood. It was cheaper and, in her opinion, a hell of a lot sexier than Victoria’s Secret.
Where the hell was he? She’d done a full circuit and couldn’t find him anywhere. She could sense the bodyguards behind her. Even though she really doubted they cared about any of this, she couldn’t help but be embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she yelled back at one of them.
“Perhaps try the back room, miss?”
“Back room?”
“The billiards room. Over there.”
She hadn’t even seen it. The small room was covered in dark wood and even darker lighting. Sean’s friends were stuffed inside, choking down cigars. “Is Sean in here?” she yelled to anyone who would listen. They ignored her, and she started to push past.
En masse, they blocked her. Sean’s roommate put a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think you should—” he began, but her bodyguards were already on him, pushing him away. Some of the drunker guys started arguing with the agents, blissfully unaware of their position. She noticed another door in the back and felt an instant sinking feeling. Just get to the door. Get to the door before the agents are freed up.