by Rebecca Foxx
The day her father moved out, he gave her his oversized jean jacket that was covered in paint splatters. She wore it almost every day, using it to cover up her voluptuous body. That was when she was thirteen, almost ten years ago. Her parents split that summer, and she met Hunter the August before Tiffany’s fifteenth birthday. She was a Libra, born in the middle of October. Like her father, Libra women were artistic and emotional.
Her mother introduced her to Hunter Alpert before his son, Clarke. They had a dinner on the veranda and Hunter cooked burgers and hot dogs. Tiffany liked Hunter; she didn’t have a problem with the fact that her parents were divorced. It was exciting to have two homes to go to, and Hunter was pretty cool for a dad. That winter, he moved in with his sixteen-year-old son, Clarke. And after that, there was no turning back.
They spent the summer getting to know each other through by racing on the beach and swimming in the ocean. Clarke was a much better runner than Tiffany, and he was practically a husky with the way he went swimming when it snowed out.
“I gotta build my endurance levels if I ever wanna become a firefighter,” he’d told her when she asked.
“With the way you run, why not try out for the Olympics? I bet you’d bring home the gold for the U.S.,” she teased.
“No way. I’d rather be out saving lives than impressing them. And what about you? Are you going to be a painter when you’re older?”
Tiffany tugged her father’s jacket tighter around her body. Orange Reef had been going in and out of freezing cold and mildly breezy. That day, it was freezing outside. Clarke came out of the ocean covered in pieces of ice. His dark brown hair was gelled back and he was wearing a one-piece black scuba suit.
“It’s madness out there,” he’d said. “You should go for a swim!”
“Are you insane?” she responded. “It’s freezing cold and I’m pretty sure my toes are about to freeze off. Can we go inside?”
“Can we go inside?” he mimicked.
She shoved him playfully in the shoulder and he grinned at her. When Tiffany looked back on that day, she remembered thinking the butterflies in her stomach felt more like snowflakes. It was a comfortable iciness that covered her body whenever Clarke looked her way. She knew it was inappropriate, and she told herself to stop, but she just couldn’t help it. Each time he was near her she became an igloo, a snowflake spread on its back, with all her fingers and toes fluttering like silver tinsel.
“Are you alright?” he asked on multiple occasions. “You have a strange look on your face.”
“Fine, I’m fine,” she’d say with a smile.” She blamed it on the weather, on her lack of sleep during winter break, on anything but her feelings. And for a long time, that seemed to be working. But now she was twenty-two, and she still harbored intense feelings for Clarke. They’d gone their separate ways, Clarke to a firefighter academy and Tiffany to the Orange Reef College of Arts.
For a long time, it seemed like nothing interesting was going to happen. And then, Tiffany’s mother got an interesting phone call. It was summertime, and Tiffany was on break from school. She was standing in the kitchen flipping slices of French toast in a pan when she heard her mother’s voice raise a few octaves. The minute she hung up, Tiffany called out to her.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Did you win the lottery, or something?”
“Of course not sweetheart, it was a phone call from Clarke!”
“What?”
“I know, I couldn’t believe it either. He’s going to be staying with us for a few months until he finds a place to live! I’m so excited, I’ve got to clean, and buy his favorite foods, and…”
She wasn’t listening anymore. Clarke was coming back home and Tiffany needed to figure out what to do about it, and quick. This was her chance to prove to him that she wasn’t just a little girl anymore; she was a young woman.
Chapter 2
Though she tried, Tiffany couldn’t quell the angry beating of her heart. She could practically see it floating outside her chest. She thought about heading to the ocean for a swim, but didn’t want Clarke seeing her when she was all salted and oily. Instead, she devoured her breakfast and headed upstairs. Tiffany had grown several inches over the past few years, and had gained a lot of curves. She enjoyed flaunting them in tight jean shorts and flowing tank tops. She let her hair grow long and wavy, like a mermaid’s. Because of the amount of sun she got, her arms were now covered in freckles.
However, freckles weren’t the only things covering her body. There was a small snowflake tattoo she got the summer before she went away to college. It was located on her shoulder blade, barely visible beneath her bra strap. After stripping down naked in front of the mirror, Tiffany inspected her snowflake tattoo. It still caused her heart to race every time she looked at it. She was so distracted with her tattoo that she didn’t notice footsteps approaching in the hall. They passed the bathroom and made their way towards the guest room before turning right back around.
Tiffany turned the water on but didn’t climb in the shower. She heard the wood outside the bathroom door creaking ever so slightly. She made her way over to the door and placed one hand on the knob. Tiffany had no way of knowing that Clarke was standing on the opposite side, his hand shaking above the doorknob. She waited a few heartbeats before walking away and getting into the shower. If it was her mother, she could have just knocked. Whoever it was, they didn’t seem to want to bother her.
Clarke knew it was crazy but he couldn’t wait to see Tiffany. He’d been so busy with the firefighter academy and his job at the Sacramento Fire department in California. He’d been distracted with surfing and working and had almost entirely forgotten about Tiffany. Almost. When he got promoted to Fire Chief for the Colorado fire department, he knew that in some strange and complicated way it was fate bringing him back home. Whom he was fated with was unclear s of that moment. He had a lingering curiosity about his stepsister, for sure, but what did that mean now?
They hadn’t seen each other in quite some time. When Tiffany finally stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a black towel covered in seashells, Clarke had to hold his breath. He was sitting at a vantage point in a guest room down the hall. It was diagonal from Tiffany’s room, but because the house was practically a mansion, there were several feet of glossy wooden paneling between them. He had wanted to stay in his old room, which was right next to hers, but it had been transformed into another art studio for Tiffany. She’d become a painter in his absence, though in his heart he always knew she was destined to live an artistic life.
She still hadn’t noticed him sitting there, which was a plus for Clarke. He stared down at his lap, wondering what the quickest way to make his boner go away was. He decided to cross to the opposite side of the room where his desk was, so that he could surf the Internet.
Down the hall, Tiffany was lying in her bed and touching herself. She’d made sure to lock the door, and had the great excuse of “I’ve just gotten out of the shower, please leave me alone” ready in case anyone knocked. She knew it was Clarke who had been standing outside her bathroom door, and she could hear him down the hallway playing music on his laptop.
I wonder, is he as excited as I am? Or is this my failed attempt at salvaging an old, and decayed dream? She thought to herself. I guess it doesn’t matter anymore, now that it’s summer. If Clarke doesn’t want to be with me, I’ll go out and find someone else.
Indeed it was summer, and the air was thick like goose down. Tiffany couldn’t tell if it was the heat from her fingers or the heat from the earth that was making her feel so sweaty. When she finished, she toweled off again before throwing on a pair of shorts and a pink tank top. She examined her body in the mirror, touching her wide hips and making sure her breasts jutted out further than her stomach. If she were going to make an impact on Clarke, it would have to be during the first few seconds of seeing him again. Her hair was still wet, and she let it dangle down her back. It would dry naturally from the heat, turning in
to wavy locks and mermaid tresses in no time.
Clarke too had finished up and was heading downstairs. He paused a moment outside of Tiffany’s door, which she began to open. Panicked, and without a good excuse, Clarke leapt past the threshold and proceeded to casually walk down the stairs. He pretended he hadn’t been waiting for her, turning around naturally to greet her after she slammed her door shut.
“Hey,” he said while turning around and waving a hand at her. “How go things?”
“Hey back,” she said, walking towards him. He wasn’t sure where to look—eyes, hips, lips, and hair? — And decided to settle on her nose.
“I think my dad’s downstairs; he’s been dying to get the whole family back together.”
“Tell me about it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He has this whole special evening planned for later. I think we’re supposed to go watch fireworks or something.”
“Doesn’t the town know it’s June?”
“It’s to celebrate the start of summer,” she said. “Man, you have been gone a long time.”
“Long enough, if you ask me,” he said quietly.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Oh nothing.”
He made sure he was behind her as they descended the marble staircase. When Clarke wasn’t looking, Tiffany had grown up to be a curvaceous, beautiful woman. He would have to figure out a way to keep it in his pants, as his father would certainly disagree if he slept with his stepsister. That is, if his father ever found out.
Chapter 3
Tiffany’s mother was sitting on the couch, watching a movie with Hunter. He had his arm around her and was holding a golden mug of beer in the other. Whatever it was they were watching, they seemed to be enjoying it. They laughed every few seconds as the characters on TV galavant around and acted generally ridiculous. Clarke cleared his throat and they turned around.
“Oh hi honey,” her mother said. “Are you two going out?”
“I think so,” Tiffany said, sneaking a look at Clarke.
“Yeah,” he interjected. “We’re going to take our bikes into town.”
“Okay, don’t be late to the fireworks later,” Hunter said. He raised his mug and bid them farewell before returning his attention to the television.
“Do you think my bike still as air in it?” Clarke asked when they were outside.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it still has air in it,” she said. She looked away from him, staring intently at the bright green lawn. Tiffany hated to admit it, but she’d been secretly riding Clarke’s bike around town for the past few weeks. It had better traction when she rode on sand, and the seat was more comfortable. Of course, she’d never admit this to him; she’d die of embarrassment.
“I like your confidence,” he replied.
The shed was located adjacent the house, and was covered in bright oak tree leaves. She brushed the trees aside and unlocked the double doors, wrinkling her nose at the familiar scent of must and earth. Since coming back home, she’d only ridden her bike, and Clarke’s—once. The summer had only just begun and she found herself in that strange in-between state where everything was warm and full of promise. She had applied to a handful of grad schools for the fall, and wouldn’t know her answer until late July. They were mostly low residency schools so that she could stay at home and work most of the year.
Now that the college kids were back, all the diners had changed their hours and were open for twenty-four hours a day. Perhaps one of those lonely nights she would invite Clarke to the diner with her so they might spill their secrets over mugs of coffee and a slice of pie.
“So where are we going?” she asked.
“Why am I in charge?”
“You’re the one who decided we should ride the bikes somewhere. Unless you’re feeling too lazy.”
“Hey, have you forgotten where I’ve been for the past few years? I am so not lazy,” he said, flexing his muscles. His chest was musical and enormous and his arms were strong. There were even a few veins popping out of his wrists and his fingers. Tiffany kept her own hands planted at her side. She didn’t want to reach out and involuntarily touch his arms. With the amount she was attacked to Clarke, there was no telling what might happen if she relied solely on her subconscious.
“Let’s bike to Gold’s Forest. There’s some bike trails there that you should check out. Do you remember them?’ he asked.
“I do, a bit,” she responded.
Once when they were younger, around sixteen and seventeen, Clarke invited her to bike out to Gold’s Forest. It was filled with abnormal trees that retained bright yellow leaves yearlong. The locals had no idea what kind of trees they were, but they often went down during the fall to gather the golden apples, which grew off the low hanging branches. When Clarke and Tiffany had gone, they’d spent the whole day there. Clarke had discovered a small wooden bridge looming over a brook. He skipped rocks in the water while Tiffany examined the different colors in his hair.
In all that bright sunshine, his floppy hair turned a mixture of red, gold, and brown. Every time he moved she could see a different part of his body illuminated. She was sixteen at that point, and had been discussing the topic of sex with her friends quite frequently. But until her seventeenth birthday, she’d never had sex before. A strange desire had kept her waiting for Clarke, though she knew it would never happen.
When they got to the woods, they dropped their bikes and ran towards the bridge.
“It looks just like I remember,” he told her.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful things looked out here,” she said.
In a moment of complete honesty, before he could stop himself, Clarke responded by saying, “I’d forgotten how beautiful you were, too.”
Afraid that it was just her ears playing tricks on her, Tiffany turned to look at Clarke. He avoided her eyes, looking instead at the water. She saw bright swirls of pink playing around his ears and cheeks. Though he’d grown into his body, his cheekbones were still high and round.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Growing up curvy wasn’t always easy for Tiffany, but she’d fallen in love with her own body the first summer after college. She loved how wide her hips had grown, and how voluptuous her chest was. All she had ever wanted was for Clarke to notice her, and now he finally had.
So as not to alarm him, she tried moving on from the compliment.
“Maybe we should grab our bikes and keep walking. I heard there’s an abandoned railroad track further in the woods.”
“Good idea,” he said, brushing past her. But he barely made it past her before he turned around and took her face in his hands. She looked up at him, expectantly, but he made no move to kiss her. They stood like that for a long time, staring into each other’s eyes as the brook crashed and swayed around them.
“So…” she started to say but was interrupted when a couple with a dog walked past. They were out of towner, probably visiting Colorado on vacation. Tiffany wasn’t one to be religious, but she thanked god they hadn’t been her neighbors, or even worse, her parents. She had no idea how to explain the moment she’d just shared with Clarke. She could barely explain it to herself.
“I guess we better keep going,” he said.
“Mmm,” Abby replied, nodding. They picked up their bikes and headed into the too-bright, pineapple-pit of the forest.
Chapter 4
As Tiffany and Clarke walked their bikes through the forest, they spoke about school, and the lives they’d been living since they last encountered each other. It had been a few Christmases ago that Clarke had visited the household. He was generally quite busy because of his firefighter duties, especially now that he had been promoted to the position of chief. Tiffany had been wrapped up in a world of reading and writing, occasionally painting on one of her father’s easels when she had the time. They were taking the long way back home, which involved walking an enormous circle around the forest.
In the middle of that circle was a dark blue lake, half-covered in
algae. Tiffany told Clarke about her dreams to become a novelist, but when he asked her what her novel would be about, she paled. How could she tell him her novel was about forbidden love— her love for him? Of course, she’d changed the characters and the setting, having the book set in a magical realm instead of reality. But it was still embarrassing to admit to Clarke that he was the inspiration for her main character. She was about to make something up to tell him when they noticed a group of people walking towards them.
It was their old group of friends from high school, which consisted of two girls and two boys: Abby, Tom, Jeff, and Lily. They were a rowdy bunch back in high school, responsible for spray-painting symbols onto the lawn and tossing water balloons at the popular kids during lunch. They seemed surprised to see Tiffany and Clarke walking around the woods, probably because Clarke had been gone for so long at the fire fighter academy, and Tiffany had been in and out of college.