All He Wants

by Anna Cruise

  “Says no to what?”

  She grinned devilishly. “To whatever you offer him.”

  “I’m not Annika, Tana,” I said. “I’m not gonna go do him in a closet.”

  Tana raised an eyebrow. “She’s done guys in closets?”

  I rolled my eyes. Annika was capable of nearly anything. I was pretty sure that sex in a closet was absolutely already on her been there, done that list.

  Not on mine, though.

  “Look,” Tana said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “It’s now or never. And if he shoots you down, he’s long gone and you’re off to bigger and better things. And if he doesn’t…”A tequila-fueled smile creased her face.

  I stood there for a minute, thinking. Or, trying to think. The vodka had made everything fuzzy, like I was looking—and thinking—with a soft filter in front of my eyes, a lens that had been firmly planted inside my brain.

  Maybe my best friend was right, I thought. I'd said something to her the day before about how I was going to be brave, that I wanted to take some risks. She'd pressed for details but I didn't have any to share. I'd been antsy about graduation, ready to move on to the next chapter in my life. I didn't have specific feats of bravery I wanted to attempt, like jumping out of a plane or training killer whales at Sea World. I was just ready for things to be different.

  And then, later, when we'd walked by Kevin in the hallway, I'd smirked and told her—for the millionth time—that I wanted to make out with him.

  Maybe a little more.

  “I’ll go find him,” I said.

  Tana squealed like a mouse and started jumping up and down. “I want a full report. FULL.”

  I was pretty sure the only thing I'd be able to report was a crash and burn but I nodded as I moved away from her. I straightened my shirt and ran my hand through my hair and then quickly, before I could change my mind, I trudged up the stairs, my hand gripping the banister like a tightrope walker clutched their pole.

  As I walked, I tried to pump myself up. I’d straightened my wavy brown hair, silky smooth locks greeting me in the bathroom mirror when I'd finished. I’d spent an extra few minutes on my make-up, rimming my eyes with black eyeliner, brushing on an extra coat of mascara. I’d fished my wickedly short denim mini from the back of my closet and pulled on a black lace cami, my hot pink bra straps playing a seductive game of peekaboo. My silver sandals matched the silver polish on my toes. I knew I looked good. Better than good.

  I stopped at the top of the stairs, the vodka catching up to me again and spinning me just a little. Tana and I had grabbed the first two drinks we’d seen when we’d walked in. They'd tasted like pineapple juice and something else mixed with vodka. Mine had gone down easily and I'd grabbed another. And another. I thought about the tequila I'd smelled on Tana's breath. Somewhere along the line, she must’ve switched to margaritas. I couldn’t do tequila. I’d learned that the previous summer after one long sweat-soaked, vomit-filled night down in Tijuana.

  I touched the wall, placed my hand against it for balance. People were lined up on both sides of the hallway, some talking, some kissing, some groping. They were familiar in the same way that you recognized people in the halls at school. Knew the faces but couldn't always assign names to them.

  Lauren Belfast stumbled toward me, using me to break her fall. I caught her and propped her up.

  “Hey Annika,” she slurred through half-opened eyes. She pushed her bangs off her forehead. “What’s up?”

  “I’m Abby,” I said, bristling and wishing I’d let her fall. “And I’m looking for Kevin.”

  “Oh, I’m sooo sorry Abby!” she said, her face breaking into a sorrowful expression. “You guys look sooo much alike. I always get mixed up.”

  I just nodded. Everyone mixed us up.

  “But I did just see Kevin,” A grin crossing her freckled face.

  My heart raced. “Yeah?”

  She turned awkwardly in my arms. “Down the hall. That last door.”

  I spun slowly and propped her up in a vacant space along the wall. “Cool. Thanks.”

  She nodded, slowly sliding down the wall until she was on her ass. “You’re welcome.” She closed her eyes and her blond head slumped forward.

  I shook my head. I was drunk but I wasn't obliterated like half the crowd there. I said a silent prayer that I wouldn't be stepping out into a vomit-soaked hallway when I'd finished with Kevin.

  I shivered. Finished what with Kevin? I knew what I wanted to do. Slip my hands into his blond hair and pull him close and kiss him until we were both breathless. Feel his hands on my skin, feel his fingers squeezing my ass, feel his hardness press into me as we pushed up against a wall or fell on to a bed. I wanted him. Every little bit I could get.

  I saw the door at the end of the hall. It was closed and I knew what might be waiting for me. All I had to do was take the steps to get me there. I took a deep breath, ran my hands down my skirt.

  Now or never.

  I slid between the people in the hall, navigating the maze of bodies until I was at the door. It wasn't completely closed. The door was propped open a quarter of an inch. I could see a light on. But I couldn't see Kevin. My skin prickled in anticipation and, before I had time to talk myself out of it, I pushed the door wide open.

  A massive bathroom, bigger than my bedroom. White marble tile floors, a sink with one of those fancy basins that looked more like a piece of art than a functional piece of plumbing. A free-standing towel rack loaded with plush gray towels. A candle on the countertop was lit, the flame flickering oddly, the scent of sandalwood permeating the air.

  And Kevin.

  Kevin Swigert sat on the edge of a tall Jacuzzi bathtub. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the smooth expanse of skin I’d dreamed about touching. His head was thrown back, his eyes closed, and I noticed how incredibly dark and long his eyelashes were. His mouth was curved in the shape of an O before giving way to a smile of satisfaction. He moaned softly. In slow motion, my eyes traveled downward. His navy blue basketball shorts were around his ankles and a girl was on her knees, between his legs, her head moving back and forth slowly.

  My sister.

  Kevin’s eyes opened and when he saw me, he didn’t seem altogether there. His mouth twisted into a half grin. “Don't tell me you want some, too?”

  I leaned against the doorframe, the vodka threatening to work its way back up my throat. I tried to shake my head no, but I was frozen in place. I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't do anything but stare in horror.

  Annika turned around. Her white cami was pushed up, her bra unclasped in the middle. Her skirt, denim like mine, was hitched nearly all the way to her waist and her lipstick was smeared at the corners of her mouth. She had one hand on Kevin's bare thigh and the other wrapped around his cock. I tried to look away but I couldn't. I just fixated on her hand, the hand that was still moving slowly up and down as she held him.

  “Abby.” My sister's voice was sharp.

  My hand slipped off the doorknob and I had to catch myself before I crashed into the door.

  I blinked.

  She smiled at me and there was nothing friendly about it. “You’re gonna have to wait your turn, Abs. I got here first.”

  TWO

  The room was spinning.

  Fast.

  I closed my eyes and pulled the sheets over my head, waiting for the room to hit the brakes. I hated carnival rides and this one felt like the Tilt-A-Whirl. On steroids.

  “No more vodka,” I croaked, my throat raw.

  No more any alcohol. Ever.

  I rolled over in the bed, on to my side. My head felt like a bowling ball. A bowling ball on a dinghy being tossed among twenty-foot waves. I squeezed my eyes shut. It didn't help with the nausea and it didn't help with blocking out the events from the previous night. Images came flooding back to me, crystal clear.

  Sprinting down the stairs. Grabbing two red cups off the kitchen counter, cups that ended up being full of straight vodka. I
’d hesitated only a second before deciding that getting fall-down drunk was the best way to burn the image of my sister blowing Kevin out of my mind. I’d downed both cups and I was pretty sure I’d grabbed another. But that was where my memory grew hazy. I vaguely remembered leaning on Tana as we walked home, sobbing loudly and puking into the gutter every block or so.

  A stellar start to the last week of summer.

  I forced my eyes open, hoping the blinding morning light would burn the images out of my head. It did nothing except punish me as the rays streamed through my bedroom window. I shifted in the sheets, realizing I was still in my tank top and skirt. I kicked them off of me and sat up, steadying myself with my hands as the vodka took a hammer to my skull.

  I could see myself in the mirror that was attached to the vanity across the room. My hair was a rat’s nest and my mascara looked like something I’d seen baseball players put under their eyes. Some sort of Medusa-like raccoon.

  Ugh.

  I laid back down in the bed, grabbed my pillow and hugged it to my chest. As bad as I felt from the alcohol, it was Annika that nearly made me sick.

  It wasn’t that I cared about Kevin. I didn’t. Sure, he was some hot guy that I’d spent way too much time drooling over. For whatever reason, I'd put him up on some sort of imaginary pedestal, had decided that he was the one guy I most wanted to get with. And, if my slut of a sister hadn’t been with him last night, I very much would’ve liked to mess around with him.

  But, as usual, Annika was there. Where I wanted to be. And where I didn’t want her to be. Where I could’ve strangled her for once again making me feel small and inferior.

  She loved to be the center of attention. She loved that guys loved to look at her. And she loved to make sure I knew that, even though we were identical twins, guys preferred her over me. Always.

  This was nothing new with Annika. She'd started in on me in first grade, sidling up to the kids I'd made friends with, making sure she was teacher's pet and not me. It had only gotten worse as we’d grown older. Trying to steal my friends in middle school. Tana had always been immune but my other friends hadn't been so lucky. I thought about Michael Stratton, the first boy I ever had a crush on. Fifth grade. He sat in front of me in homeroom and, after months of daydreaming about him, I'd finally worked up the nerve to pass him a note in class. As soon as I'd tossed the note in his direction, Annika had innocently raised her hand and told Mrs. Wilson what I'd done. She'd retrieved the folded up scrap of notebook paper and read it out loud to the class. And everyone in our fifth grade class suddenly knew that I liked Michael Stratton and wanted him to come over for Popsicles. I'd turned the color of a tomato and Annika had just smiled in satisfaction.

  We hated one another.

  There was no twin bond. No special link to one another. No ability to finish one another’s thoughts or sentences. No special connection.

  I felt more connected to snakes at the zoo.

  I closed my eyes, grateful that the spinning seemed to have abated, and sighed. More than ever, I was relieved to be heading for college. Away from high school and away from living on top of my menacing sister.

  But Annika was going, too, headed to the exact same college. And even though we’d be living apart, I worried the campus wouldn’t be big enough for the both of us. It had been my number one concern when I'd accepted my admission to State but I'd tried to convince myself that just not sharing space with her would make it all better.

  But after the previous night?

  I wasn’t sure I could share the same continent with her.

  The door to my room swung open and smacked into the wall. I winced, the sound like someone clanging cymbals an inch from my head.

  “Mom said to get up,” Annika said.

  With a concerted effort, I managed to prop myself up on my elbows. Her hair was wet, her face make-up free. She wore capri-length sweatpants and a T-shirt that was just tight enough to make her boobs look perfect. We had the same boobs and mine never looked like that, dammit.

  “Knock much?” I asked.

  She sniffed the air and frowned. “It smells like you bathed in vodka.” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “You need to be more careful how much you drink. You know you’re a lightweight.”

  “Leave. Now.”

  She leaned against the door and ran a hand through her damp hair. “Now, now. Don’t get all pissy with me just because your boyfriend wanted me to suck him off.” She smiled. “Maybe he thought it was you.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I snapped, cringing as my voice reverberated through my head. “And I’m pretty sure he knew he was with the skanky twin.”

  “Oh, he knew when we were done,” she said, her smile widening. “Trust me. No way you could’ve gotten him off like that.”

  I shook my head in disgust. “Yeah. Takes a certain talent. And lack of pride.”

  “Jealousy does not look good on you, Abs,” Annika said. “And neither do skinny jeans. You don’t have the ass for them.” She winked at me. “Breakfast is in ten minutes. Try not to smell like a hobo.” She raised her middle finger in my direction, then slammed the door on her way out.

  I fired my pillow at the door and collapsed back in the bed.

  I was wrong.

  I couldn’t share the same planet with her.

  My head pounded, and not just from my killer hangover. Reality was crashing down. Hard. School started in less than a week. Annika and I were due to move into dorms on Monday. And all I wanted to do was get as far away from my sister as possible.

  I surveyed my room. A few boxes were stacked against one wall, half-filled with clothes and shoes, belts and headbands. A pile of books sat on top of my bookcase, favorites that I wanted to bring along. San Diego State was only twenty minutes from home but part of me felt like I was moving across country. I wanted my books and other familiar things that I could bring with me, things that would comfort me, things that would remind me I wasn't alone.

  But I wasn't going to be alone, I reminded myself.

  Because Annika was coming with me.

  I rubbed my forehead and stifled a groan. I couldn't do it. Last night had been the final straw. I was sick of living in Annika's shadow, tired of wondering how she was going to muck up my life next. I wanted a clean slate, a fresh start, and I wasn't going to get that if my sister was around.

  I swung my legs to the floor, squeezing my eyes shut as the jackhammer pounded my skull. Why had I gotten so totally drunk last night? It wasn't like me.

  But the decision I was about to make wasn't like me, either.

  THREE

  The smell of bacon and eggs made me want to vomit. Gingerly, I made my way down the stairs, wincing every time my foot made contact with the wood. I took short, shallow breaths, hoping this would keep the nausea at bay. All I wanted to do was lay back down. Or die.

  Dad looked up from his newspaper. He was parked at the kitchen table, a plate heaped with bacon and eggs.

  “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

  I swallowed my revulsion as I breathed in the smell of breakfast and managed a feeble hello. I sank into my chair, gripping the edge of it as if holding on would keep me upright.

  He glanced at me. “Not hungry?”

  I shook my head once. I couldn't manage any more without it feeling like a firing squad was shooting bullets at my brain. I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than I had when I'd first woken up. But I hadn't been moving around then.

  “Rough night?”

  His question was casual and I was grateful. He had no illusions about his daughters, at least not in the drinking department. He knew we went out and he knew we drank occasionally. We'd gotten a stern talking to about drinking and driving and the requisite lecture that they didn't want us drinking underage. But they knew better. And we'd been responsible. I never drove if I drank and I was pretty sure Annika didn't, either. One redeeming quality in my bitch of a sister.

  But what Dad knew about as far as
alcohol consumption was vastly different than what he knew about Annika's boys. I didn't know if he really was naïve about her sexual adventures or if he was just in denial. Whatever the case, even I agreed that the less he knew about my sister's pornographic sex life, the better.

  “I assume you walked home?”

  I managed a nod.

  He speared a forkful of eggs. “Good. I don't ever want to hear about you drinking and driving.”

  “I know,” I mumbled.

  Annika sailed in to the kitchen. While I'd struggled to make myself look as un-hobo like as possible, she'd straightened her hair, put on make-up and changed into a hot pink tube dress.

  She planted a kiss on Dad's cheek. “Hey, Daddy.”

  He glanced at her. “Hi, sweetheart. You guys go to the same party last night?”

  Annika poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. “Uh-huh.”

  He shook his head. I knew what he was thinking. For twins who were identical in every physical way, we were as different as night and day. Her alcohol tolerance was evidence of that.

  As was her bitchiness.

  “No driving?”

  She shook her head, wide-eyed. “Of course not, Daddy.”

  He stood and took his plate and coffee mug to the sink. “Good.”

  I wanted him to ask, “And no blow jobs? No sex in the closet with guys you don't know?” Just to see what kind of response she would give.

  But he didn't.

  “I gotta run. Open House starts in a half hour and your mom's already there.”

  Our parents were a real estate team, had been for the last twenty years. It was actually how they met, in some real estate class fresh out of high school. Two decades later, they were one of the top-selling teams in San Diego County. Their inventory and sales record were a testament to that.

  Annika plucked a piece of bacon off the platter on the table. “And I'm off to the beach.”

  “You all packed up?”

  “Almost.” She smiled before taking a dainty sip of coffee. “But it's only twenty minutes away. And you know I'll be back a lot. I'll miss you too much to stay away for very long.”