Twisted Christmas

by Sara Cate

  He lets out a sigh and I hear him say thank you and then the sound of a door closing. I roll my eyes knowing that means he’s in the building now. “I know and I’m sorry.” I hear shuffling outside of my door and then a knock. “Please just let me in.”

  I swallow. “Why are you being so mean?”

  “It’s nothing you did, Gab. I promise.” I lean against my desk staring at the door. “Please?”

  I move towards the door and open it slowly, standing in the way of the door so that he can’t come in yet. “Say you’re sorry.”

  A smile pulls at his lips and he reaches up to rub my cheek gently. I’m glad I’m wearing a sweatshirt because the goosebumps are covering my arms at his gentle touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You’re the only person I never take my shit out on and…I fucked up by doing so.”

  I take a step back and let him move into the room and shut the door behind him. “What’s going on, J?”

  “I…” He rubs the back of his neck. “You want to get drunk?”

  “Yes please, but that won’t solve your issues, and it will probably make it worse.”

  “Something fell through at work and it was a shitstorm today, I just want to go to my apartment and forget about this shitty day and get drunk with you.”

  “Do you want to go out?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, I have a fake. It might make you feel better.” I pull my coat on and pull my hair out and over one shoulder.

  “You know I hate when you use that,” he grumbles as he slings my duffle bag over his shoulder and slides up the handle of my roller suitcase. “It’s fine, I don’t want to have to worry about keeping you out of trouble or assholes from hitting on you.”

  My eyebrows furrow slightly. “Why’s it a big deal if anyone hits on me? I’m eighteen, James.”

  “I am well aware of that,” he says somewhat under his breath and moves towards the door. “Can we go?”

  I’m just about to respond when Harper comes skipping through the door. “Oh, thank God, I didn’t miss you!” Her blonde curly hair bounces as she runs towards me and she squeals before launching herself into my arms. “Mwah.” She kisses my cheek. “Have a great holiday and text me every day.”

  I laugh at her infectious energy despite the fact that I know she’s hungover. Movement in my periphery draws her attention to my brother and her blue eyes widen. “Oh hey, James!” Her voice squeaks slightly and I smile at her perpetual nervousness around my brother.

  “Hey, Harper, how you feeling?” He gives her a knowing smile and she rolls her eyes.

  “Fine and dandy! They say the cure to a hangover is being under twenty-five. Sorry, old man,” she jokes back and the flirtiness in her voice kind of irritates me. It shouldn’t. Also, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure James has zero interest in Harper.

  “Ha-ha. Well, I hope you have a great Christmas. Gab, we should go.”

  “You too,” she sings, drawing out the o’s. “Love you, mean it,” she says as she turns towards me.

  “Love you, mean it, Harp.”

  Two shots of Jameson later and James and I are sitting on the floor in front of his fireplace with a pizza between us. The television is playing Home Alone, one of our favorite holiday movies, but we turned it all the way down so we can talk. The snow is still flurrying through the air but it isn’t sticking too aggressively and we’ve already received strict instructions from Dad to leave no later than ten tomorrow morning. The fire, the alcohol, the Christmas feels, it all feels so romantic and I have to actively remind myself that this is not a date.

  “Ready for another?”

  I nod, knowing that I’m feeling it but also that this is the same guy that taught me how to take shots on my sixteenth birthday, so I’m not that much of a lightweight.

  “I love that you can drink.” He chuckles. “Warms my heart.”

  “I bet it does.” I laugh remembering my birthday. “You were the first person to ever get me drunk.” He had come home for the night just for my birthday and after Mom, Dad and Monica went to bed we stayed up watching movies which led to him getting me drunk for the first time.

  “I remember it so vividly, you were hilarious,” he says as he pours us another shot.

  “And we vowed to never talk about it.” I shake my head. I remember next to nothing about that night except for telling James a million times that I loved him.

  He brings the shot glass to his lips and he looks over at me for a beat before shaking his head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You were staring at me funny.”

  “I just remembered something and I…it’s weird.”

  “What? Tell me!” I demand.

  “Well, that night you told me you were a virgin and I was kind of still wondering if you were.”

  My mouth drops open and I feel the heat in my face. My body was already heating up from the alcohol but now I feel like I am borderline on fire. “I can’t believe I told you that, and I can’t believe we are talking about it!” I take the shot without him.

  “Hey!”

  I raise my middle finger as I take a sip of the ginger ale to ease the burn of the whiskey going down. “You should have thought of that before bringing up that.”

  “I’m sorry, Gab…I was just wondering.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugs. “It was just a question.”

  “Are you?”

  “A virgin?” He snorts. “Yeah, I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  “I’ll bet.” I mutter. “To answer your question, Mr. Invasive, yes, I am a virgin.”

  A smile pulls at his lips before he takes his shot. “Good to hear.”

  “Why is that good to hear?”

  “Ummm because you’re my little sister and I’m insanely protective of you. I’m sorry, have we met?”

  I giggle and am very aware that three shots do make me tipsy so I do need to start being cognizant of how many of these I take down. I take a bite of my pepperoni pizza, and another and another, trying to eat as much as I can between drinks to keep me as sober as possible.

  James pours another shot for himself and takes it, putting him at four and I frown wondering why he didn’t pour one for me.

  “I don’t want to push you. Have to space you out some.”

  “Yeah, can’t drink quite like you yet, old man,” I tease, using Harper’s nickname.

  “You think I’m old?”

  “You’re almost thirty, J.”

  “That’s not old.”

  “Okay compared to me, it feels old.”

  “I’m only eleven years older than you,” he counters.

  “So weird to think you were thirteen when I came barging into your life.” I laugh remembering it. “And now you’re about to be thirty.”

  “Fuck. It does feel like a lifetime ago when you say it like that. What are we going to do for my birthday? You planning a party for me?” he asks and my eyes widen.

  “You want me to? Don’t you have some over twenty-one year old friends that would be better at planning a party for you? Not your underaged sister?”

  “No one knows me better than you. Besides, I would rather spend my birthday with you than just about anyone.”

  “Well, duh.” I flick my hair over my shoulder and he smiles showing all his teeth and for a moment I’m momentarily disarmed and at a loss for words. “But you know what I mean, maybe Monica would be better at that.”

  “Monica probably doesn’t even know when my birthday is.” He laughs and stretches his feet out in front of him on the floor and leans back on an elbow.

  “Who knows when anyone’s birthday is without social media these days.”

  “Umm, excuse me, I know your birthday and Monica’s too without looking. And…you don’t know mine?” He cocks a head to the side and for a brief second, I see something that looks similar to hurt flash through them.

  “Of course, I do, October fourteenth,” I answer. “The day
a star was born,” I say dramatically and he puts a hand over his heart.

  “Phew, you almost lost your favorite sister role.”

  “Yeeeeahhh right. I’m fairly certain I could crash your BMW, blow through your savings account, and trash your apartment and still be your favorite sister.”

  He snorts and pours us both another shot. “Facts. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Mon and I have come a long way and I still consider her one of my best friends but…you…” He smiles. “You’re my favorite person.”

  Chapter 3

  Gabrielle

  A million butterflies shed their cocoons and begin to flap their wings wildly in my stomach. “Really?” I squeal. “I’m your favorite person?”

  “Easily. I thought you knew that.” He frowns.

  “I…mean you’re my favorite person too obviously. But I didn’t know I was yours,” I whisper and rub my finger along the rim of my glass. “That means a lot to me.” I look towards the television and smile when I see Kevin setting up his battleground in his house. “Should we take these?” I ask, referring to the shots that are probably a horrible idea.

  He nods and we do it in silence. I’m not sure if the silence is awkward or comfortable but the alcohol makes me break it. “So, are you seeing anyone?” I don’t know why I ask this question; I don’t want to know and I’m so unprepared for his answer.

  “No.” He chuckles. “I’m not.”

  “Not even casually?”

  “I spend all my time at work or with my baby sister; where does a girlfriend or whatever fit into that?”

  “Okay not all your time. And you could still have a fuck buddy or someone you call over when you’re lonely or whatever.”

  “Been there, done that.” He shrugs. “The loneliness I feel can’t be fixed with that.”

  I frown. “Wait, you’re lonely? Like actually? I meant like lonely on a particular night, I didn’t mean like…James…really?” My heart hurts hearing this. I want to wrap him in a hug and shield him from any pain and loneliness he’s ever felt.

  He sits up. “Gab, it’s no big deal.”

  “It’s a very big deal. How are you lonely? You’ve got tons of friends and you’re likable and charming and—”

  “None of that matters at the end of the day,” he interrupts. “I mean friends are important, don't get me wrong but…this apartment is huge and it would be nice to come home to someone at the end of the day.”

  “Oh my God.” I put my hands over my eyes. “And you say you spend all your time with me which means you’ll never meet someone! I am so sorry. When we get back, I’ll stop inviting myself over. You need to get out there.”

  “No, Gab. I’m not agreeing to that. Spending time with you is what keeps me sane. Well…sometimes.” He laughs.

  I don’t understand the ominous comment. “I drive you insane?”

  “Yeah Gabrielle, you do.” There he goes using my full name again.

  “How?”

  “Because—” He stops. “Never mind. It’s just because I worry about you.”

  Oh. My. God. He’s lying to me.

  “You’re lying.” I hadn’t meant to call him out on it because it was obvious he did not want to tell me the truth but the words slipped out easily. Thanks a lot, Jameson.

  “What?”

  “You’re lying. It’s not because you worry about me.”

  “Yes, it is. You think I don’t worry about you?”

  “I’m not saying you’re lying about that; I’m saying that’s not why I drive you insane.”

  He rubs his forehead and shakes his head. “Gab, can we not do this now?”

  “Do what?”

  His blue eyes narrow and suddenly look darker than usual. “This whole thing where you don’t let things go and berate me into telling you something?”

  “I just…want to know. You’re the one who said we tell each other everything.”

  “And you tell me everything?” he asks and my heart begins to pound in my chest.

  Lie.

  “Of course, I do.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Lie better.

  I shrug. “Believe whatever you want.” I take another bite of pizza, in desperate need to back pedal out of this conversation that alcohol pushed me into. “I tell you everything.”

  We’re silent for a few moments before he breaks it. “Do you ever wish our parents hadn’t adopted you?” he asks and I almost choke on the pizza. His hands immediately go to my back rubbing it soothingly but it does nothing to ease the ache in my chest over his words. Is he serious?

  “Wha-what…are you saying?” Tears find my eyes and I do my best to swallow them down as his eyes widen in horror.

  “No, no…fuck. I just heard how that sounded.” He shakes his head. “Not how I meant it. I just mean…if we’d met under different circumstances.”

  I’d thought from time to time how my life would have differed if I’d been adopted by a different family. A less affluent family. One where I had no siblings. One where there was no James. It was hard to imagine because the Calloways are my family. I am a Calloway. I love them whole-heartedly and I know the feeling is mutual. I wasn’t a child that didn’t feel like she belonged even when a few kids at school tried to tell me I didn’t.

  I’m Gabrielle Calloway, but yeah…sometimes it sucked that it meant I was sister to James Calloway, thereby making him very off limits.

  I blink my eyes a few more times, still not exactly sure how he means, but I go with my assumption, trying my best not to assume the worst or hope for the best. “Sure, I guess. Maybe we’d be friends.”

  He chuckles. “Gab, we’d be more than friends and you know it.” He pours us two more shots and the liquor combined with his words causes a flutter between my legs. I chuckle awkwardly and try my best to come up with a witty reply but come up short. “You don’t think so?” he responds.

  “I…I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Never mind.” He shakes his head and stares out the window where I see the snow has started to pick up slightly before sweeping his gaze back to mine. “Want to take these?”

  We do so and I’ve officially crossed into intoxication despite my efforts to remain in control. He gets up to stoke the fire in front of us and instantly my fantasy from yesterday comes to mind. A giggle leaves my lips and when he turns back to me, he frowns. “What?”

  “I have this fantasy of losing my virginity in front of a fireplace.” Instantly my hand flies over my mouth and I wish I could take back that projectile word vomit. “I mean…just in general. Not here obviously. One too many romance novels,” I ramble and I start to fidget with my hands which is something I do when I’m nervous. James’ eyes flit to them and a smile pulls at his lips.

  “You’re nervous?”

  “No…I just…that was a weird comment. Sorry, did I make it awkward?”

  “Of course not, beautiful.” He moves back towards me and rubs his thumb down my cheek. “I’ve always wanted to do anything and everything to make you happy. Give you everything you want, Gab. But…” he furrows his brow, “that’s one thing I don’t think I can give you.”

  That one word blares in my head like a flashing neon light. “Think?” I utter it aloud, my heart pounding so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it.

  “Can’t,” he corrects. “I can’t give it to you. Even though…” He stops and my eyes widen at the qualifier. Holy shit. He…wants that…with me? I try my best to steady my breathing. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe he means…I run through a brief list of scenarios he could possibly mean, but all of them lead back to him wanting to take my virginity. My sex pulses. The word vomit pools in the back of my throat dying to escape.

  No. No. No.

  Make him say it first.

  My mind is moving a mile a minute at the thought that James and I could possibly cross a line tonight and I’m drunk on that thought along with the whiskey coursing through my veins.

/>   “James…” I whisper and bite down on my lower lip.

  “The things I could do to you, Gab.” He drops his head back. “I hate that I’ve thought about it.”

  “Thought about…what?”

  His eyes sweep to mine before he traces his gaze over me running those piercing blue eyes all over me lasciviously.

  “Gabby…” He rarely calls me that and I think he realizes it because he pulls back slightly and shakes his head. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “Wait…what?” No no no, don’t let him.

  His smoldering gaze still holds mine as he moves closer to me and presses a kiss so gentle on my forehead that I want to jump out of my skin.

  “You can stay up if you want, but I’m fried,” he tells me as he stands and begins to clean up the mess of glasses and pizza on the floor.

  I follow behind him into the kitchen, carrying what’s left. I set it on the counter before realizing it’s now or never. “James, look at me.”

  His back is to me and I can see the tension in his back and neck as he drops his head. “No.”

  I move behind him and put my arms around him so his back is against my chest, though with our height difference, it doesn’t quite line up that way. “You said we could tell each other everything.”

  “Not this.”

  “What is this you’re referring to?”

  “Gabrielle.” He turns around and I can see the anguish in his features. Does he…feel the same things I feel? “In another life…” he leans down, “I’d make you so happy, and it just kills me sometimes that it can’t be this life.”

  I grip his forearms and move closer to him. I’m not completely pressed against him but I’m close. “You do make me happy in this life, J.” I run my hands up his chest towing the line between sexual and playful and to his shoulders before gripping them. “James…” His name comes out like a breathy plea and it must serve as a question because his hands find my hips in response. He grips them tightly and before I can think he’s moved me backwards and lifted me up onto the counter like I weigh less than a feather. He steps between my legs and runs his nose up and down my neck.