With A Twist

by Staci Hart

Lily folded her hands on her stomach. “I’ll regret it tomorrow, but I’m not ready for bed yet. I don’t think I could sleep.”

  “Well, I’d be glad to keep you company, so long as you keep your promise never to tell anyone how much I love this movie.”

  “What’s not to love? It’s got everything — laughs, love, dancing, sonnets, and Shakespeare. Of course you love it.”

  Lily stood and walked into the living room, and I couldn’t help but admire the curves of her calves and thighs, up to her hips and what had to be the nicest ass I’d ever seen in person. The ass that Blane Fucking Baker had the privilege to have for his very own — a privilege he squandered. I tried not to think about finding him and punching him in the eye socket.

  I followed her to the couch, taking the seat next to her. She was already curled up and working her DVR, and I pulled the blanket over us, propping my feet on the coffee table. I rested my arms on the back of the couch, and she leaned into me as she turned on closed captioning.

  I shook my head. “Nu-uh. No distracting subtitles. I don’t care if you’ve had a shitty night. I’m putting my foot down.” I reached for the remote, but she held it out of my reach.

  She stretched her arm as far as she could. “No way. I love them, and I need them so I don’t miss anything. My house, my remote, my rules.”

  “Not this time, Twinkle Toes.” My reach was longer than hers, but she shifted away, giggling.

  “Mine!” she said with a laugh, and I reached over her, laughing back.

  “Gimme it, Lil.” My fingers found her ribs and wiggled, and she squealed.

  “Oh, my god, stop it!” She shrieked and squirmed underneath me.

  “Not until you give it.” I stretched a little further until I grabbed it from her hands, and we lay there laughing. It took me a second to realize I was lying on top of her with the blanket twisted around us and one of her legs around my waist. Our noses were inches apart. She blushed, and I could barely breathe.

  “Told you it was mine tonight,” I said with a smile as I backed off of her.

  Her laugh this time was breathless. “You win this time, Williams. Soak it up.”

  She nestled into my side as I hung my arms on the back of the couch. “Oh, I will.”

  THE WAIT

  Lily

  IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE best dream ever.

  I watched Blane cup my bare breast, eyes closed as he performed full on titty-worship. My hands were in his blond hair, and he hummed as his lips closed around my nipple like I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, moaning a little louder when I wrapped my legs around his waist and squeezed to get our bodies as close as they could get.

  I wanted him so bad, my body ached. He broke away and looked up at me. “You’re so beautiful, Lily. I’ve always wanted you, ever since the first time I saw you. Nadia was just a distraction. I never thought I was good enough for you.”

  I sighed and touched his cheek. “Oh, Blane.”

  He smiled up at me. “I owe you something special. Something extra special.” He moved down my body¸ and my heart went ballistic when he disappeared under the fluffy, white covers.

  I reached up for my headboard and hung on as he hooked my legs on his shoulders, feeling his breath first, then his hot mouth as he closed it over me. My eyes rolled back in my head, breath frozen. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me down into him. It was everything. His tongue traced patterns, flicking and circling until I was panting, and he broke away just before I could come.

  “Ah, ah, ah. Not yet, Lil.”

  My heart stopped at the sound of the rumbling Mississippi accent. And then the covers shifted, sliding out of the way to reveal West climbed up toward me, eyes on fire, dark hair loose and messy.

  I didn’t have time to respond, not before his lips were on mine, the scratch of his beard against my skin as he kissed me so deep. I wound my arms and legs around him as he guided himself to press against my opening, and I squeezed, forcing him in with a long, satisfied sigh.

  “Tell me you want me, Lily,” West said against my ear.

  “I want you,” I breathed.

  He pulled out and slammed back in. “I’ve always wanted this. I’ve always wanted you.” He slammed into me once more.

  “God, West, please,” I begged, and he gave himself to me again and again.

  My body flexed just as my eyes flew open. I pressed my hips into my mattress, gasping as my heart clanged and pulsed with the release, still feeling the weight of his body on mine, his lips, the way he felt inside of me.

  And then, I freaked the fuck out.

  I rolled over and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out what the hell that was. The feeling was still so strong, the need for him, that I couldn’t even handle it. I kept trying to push it away, thinking about Blane and how great that was before it took a hard left into Whatthefuckville.

  I thought about what I’d eaten the night before. Surely it had to be a case of bad shellfish. Maybe it was triggered by West tickling me, because I swear to God I almost kissed him right then. He smelled so good, and he was looking at me like … I don’t know. It was crazy. All of it was crazy.

  My brain was a traitorous slut for giving me a West wet dream over a Blane one.

  I threw off my blanket and marched into the bathroom, cranking the shower to cold and stripping my clothes, hoping I could sanitize my dirty ass mind so I could get through what was already shaping up to be another horrible day.

  West

  After fighting to stay awake for the last hour, I tried to stifle my yawn the next afternoon as Blackwell finished his lecture. I’d stayed at Lily’s until Rose came home, and even then, I didn’t want to leave. She was unhappy and confused — I could see it all over her. But all I could do was hold her as she leaned into my side through the movie, and I wished I could somehow take her pain away through transference of my arms around her.

  I’d been lost in my thoughts, and when I looked up, the last of the students streamed out of the classroom. Blackwell glanced at me as he packed up his things.

  “You holding up okay, West?”

  I smiled and packed my bag in a rush. “As well as can be expected, sir.”

  “You seemed a little absent today.”

  I grabbed my bag and hung it on my shoulder. “Sorry about that, sir. Late night.”

  “Ah,” he said with a nod as I followed him to the back door of the auditorium. “I was concerned it was about your application. Debates in the committee are winding down. Won’t be long now. I know the waiting isn’t easy.”

  “No, sir. It’s not.”

  He pushed the door open. “I’ve been doing this for long enough now to know how the committee works. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I want you to try not to worry too much. I think it would take something serious to stop you from being accepted.”

  I looked down with warm ears, humbled. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

  We stepped into the hallway and made our way toward his office. He smiled over his shoulder at me and paused, waiting for me to catch up. “My pleasure. I’ve enjoyed being a part of your success, ever since you were a freshman. I’d like to think that someday we’ll be colleagues.”

  “I could only hope for such an honor.”

  “Your proposal for the program was fascinating. Women’s power in Shakespeare? It’s a topic that’s been covered hundreds of times, but not usually with your take. It’s typically the pseudo-feminist angle. Shakespeare: killer of the female spirit.”

  I chuckled. “More like Shakespeare: everybody dies.”

  He nodded, amused. “That’s more accurate.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “I just never saw Shakespeare that way. The women in his works held tremendous power, even though they were sometimes treated with very little respect by the other characters. They were always strong, always trying to muck through life just as well as any man. And how many men died for the love of one of those women?” I gave m
y head a shake. “Personally, I find it fascinating and moving. The thought that you could find someone who held the power to ruin you or rescue you. And that in the end, you could die — especially if The Bard had anything to say about it — so when you have your moment, you’ve got to take it and live it as fully as you can.”

  Blackwell smiled. “And that’s exactly why the doctoral spot is yours to lose.”

  A thin, nasally, very British scoff came from the hallway in front of us. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Blackwell and his little pet.”

  I looked ahead to find Dr. Aldous Cox stopped a few feet in front of us, hands in the pockets of his too-large pleated pants. He was a small man with wireframe glasses perched on his hawkish nose, sparse hair combed over a generous bald spot. The look on his face could only be described as prickish. Simon Phillips was at his side, tall — at least by comparison to Cox — dark eyes twinkling and smile stretched in a leer.

  Blackwell smirked as we came to a stop. “And how are you, Aldous? I hope you’re finding your Composition 101 lectures enriching.”

  They both scowled at us at the dig — Comp 101 was the bottom rung of the Lit department.

  I felt like we were in an academic Spaghetti Western. All we needed was a tumbleweed made out of crumpled up Kafka pages to roll between us to the tune of a harmonica interlude.

  But Cox’s scowl slid back into a greasy smile. “Oh, shaping young minds is an enriching profession, don’t you think? And how are the two of you? Preparing for Mr. Williams’ denial letter, I presume?”

  Blackwell chuckled. It was an easy, charming sound, and Cox’s smile pinched until it looked like he’d smelled something dank. “I think we both know that’s unlikely, Aldous.”

  Simon shifted, squaring his shoulders. “There’s no way Williams will make the program, not if my father has anything to say about it.”

  “Your father won’t have a say, will he?” Blackwell asked, calm and mildly amused, speaking to Simon like he was a child.

  Simon folded his arms across his chest. “They listen to him. He matters, unlike Williams here.” His voice was heavy with contempt. “He’s got nobody on his side.”

  Blackwell’s eyes narrowed at his lack of eloquence and the implication that I was somehow less than Simon Phillips. “West has me on his side. Or are you suggesting that my standing at Columbia isn’t equal to Phil Phillips’?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

  Simon’s nostrils flared like a racehorse.

  Cox glared at Blackwell as he spoke to Simon. “Don’t let James get to you, Simon. They always squeal the loudest just before they’re tossed into the slaughterhouse.” They started walking again, and we all stared each other down until they’d passed by.

  I shook my head as we walked down the hallway. Blackwell turned to me.

  “Cox has always been a real dick.”

  We both busted out laughing.

  “Whatever happened between the two of you?”

  Blackwell sighed. “Well, it’s been a long rivalry, I’m afraid. We both went to Cambridge, in the same class, though he never did like me much. We always seemed to be neck-and-neck, ended up in the same master’s program. I actually beat him out for the doctoral program there, and when I came to Columbia, he followed within a year. He’s a brilliant man —in another universe, we’d be friends. But in this? He’s just too bitter, unable to live without comparison, sadly. I’m just a masthead at which to aim his worldly rage.”

  “The face of evil.”

  We reached his office, and he opened the door. “I really couldn’t tell you how it began. Aldous has never been what one might refer to as cuddly, even in his youth. I’m a natural extrovert, an orator — I’ve always been sort of fearless in that way — and for whatever reason, that challenged him.” He walked behind his desk and set down his bag. “In any event, the battle is long and fierce, and I don’t know that it will ever end. He uses anything he can for ammunition, too — reviews, student grades, grad students. I choose candidates based on merit. He chooses candidates based on who he thinks will beat me.”

  I set my things on my small desk against the wall. “And Phillips was his choice?”

  Blackwell nodded as he unpacked his laptop. “Simon’s smart and driven. But he’s arrogant. I sometimes feel that Aldous and I are fighting our own battle through our students, over and over again to no end.” His eyes were down, pensive as he opened his laptop. “My only comfort is that I try to help students whom I believe in.”

  “Well, sir, I hope I can live up to your legacy.”

  He gave me a comforting smile. “You already have.”

  West

  A couple of hours later, I sat on my couch, staring at an essay without seeing a single word. I’d been home for a half an hour, and Maggie would be there any minute, but I was jittery, hating that I couldn’t be there to pick her up. Her flight landed just as I was getting out of class — there was no way I could get there in time, and she said she wouldn’t wait for me, not wanting me to go to any trouble. Stubborn girl. Must have been genetic.

  I checked my phone again to make sure she hadn’t called before opening my messages to text her, but I put it down again. She’d call if she needed me. Plus, she was with Cooper. He’d take care of her, or I’d take care of him.

  Patrick walked into the living room to drop into an armchair and prop his feet on the coffee table, crossing his legs, clad in black skinny jeans. He was wearing a purple V-neck which should have made him look like the obnoxious brand of hipster or the Joker, but Patrick pulled off the look like he’d invented it.

  “Hear from Maggie or Coop yet?”

  “Not since her flight landed an hour ago. They should be here soon.”

  He smirked. “You ready to have your little sister down the hall again?”

  I tossed the paper on the coffee table with a chuckle. “All the better to keep an eye on her.”

  Patrick folded his hands behind his head. “She’s a grown woman. Pretty sure she can take care of herself.”

  I eyed him. “You stay away from my sister, Tricky.”

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Your sister’s hot—”

  “Watch it.”

  “—but she’s not exactly my type.”

  I relaxed a little. “No, I guess she’s not. Not like that’s ever stopped you before.”

  He made a face at me and scoffed. “Come on. You think I’d nail your sister?”

  “I’d hope not. I don’t want to have to mess up that pretty face of yours.”

  He chuckled and sank a little lower in the chair. “Speaking of pretty faces, what happened with Lily last night?”

  I hung my arms on the back of the couch, shaking my head. “She confirmed most of what Astrid said. I don’t trust that he’s for real, but she’s mad as fuck at him right now. Hopefully that’s the end of that. She can just let it fizzle the rest of the way out, fade away into the night.” I twiddled my fingertips.

  “I can’t say I’m not curious about the guy. I want to meet him — see what he’s about.”

  “Well, no offense, but I hope we don’t have the chance. I’m not interested in meeting the guy, not after the douchebaggery he’s pulled on Lil.”

  “What happened?”

  I shook my head. “No details, but you wouldn’t approve.”

  He frowned. “You can’t drop that on me and then not tell me what happened, man.”

  “Sure, I can. Look, I’m doing it right now.”

  My phone rang on the coffee table, and I snatched it up to answer. “Mags, you all right?”

  “I’m great, are you kidding? I’m in New-York-Fucking-City!”

  I chuckled. “Did Cooper make it there?”

  Her voice was flat. “Sure did. Thanks for the warning, ass.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t wait for me at the airport, so I had to take measures, Margaret.”

  “Ugh, Weston. You’re worse than Dad.”

  I smiled. �
��Thank you.”

  “We’re downstairs. Come help with my gigantic suitcases.”

  I was already pulling on my shoes. “On my way.” I hung up and slipped my phone into my back pocket.

  “Need a hand?” Patrick asked.

  “Knowing Maggie, I probably need four.”

  Patrick laughed, and we hurried down the stairs to get my little sister.

  We found her sitting on one massive suitcase, chin-length, curly blond hair a contained mess, freckles smattered across the apples of her cheeks as she grinned at me. Three more gigantic suitcases stood behind her next to Cooper, who smiled as he leaned up against the black Town Car he’d picked Maggie up in.

  I hung my hands on my hips and shook my head at the sight of her. She hopped up and bounded into my arms.

  “Good to see you, kiddo. How was the flight?”

  She stepped back and pushed her hair out of her face. “Long. I sat next to the cutest little old lady, but she drank like four of those tiny bottles of vodka, and then she just wouldn’t stop talking, not until she passed on me out mid-crossword puzzle.”

  I laughed.

  “Seriously, on me. My arm fell asleep.”

  Patrick gave her a side hug. “Hey, Maggie. Glad you’re here.”

  “Thanks, Patrick. Me too.” She took a deep breath through her nose with her hands on her hips like an explorer. “Smell that? Change is happening, boys!”

  “Cooper behaved himself, right?”

  She shot him a look. “Perfect gentleman.”

  Cooper shrugged, smiling crooked. “What?”

  I eyed him. “Grab a suitcase, Casanova. Let’s get all this upstairs.” I picked up the bigger one and made a face. “Damn, Mags. Is mine full of books?”

  “This is the twenty-first century, West. I have a tablet. That suitcase is full of shoes.”

  Patrick snorted as we walked into the building and up the stairs, none of us talking for the strain of my sister’s suitcases. I couldn’t even imagine how much they cost to fly.

  We stopped in front of Lily’s door, and I knocked. Rose answered after a second. It was two in the afternoon, but she looked like she’d just woken up. Her black hair was in a sloppy knot on top of her head, and mascara was smeared in little rings under her eyes. Somehow, she still looked amazing, even in a loose T-shirt and sleep shorts. Patrick noticed, too. I could tell by that expression he always wore when he was around her, like his heart was full of shrapnel.