His Best Friend's Little Sister

by Vivian Wood

  “You know,” Ellie said, licking the glass rim as he poured her second serving in the living room, “I’m glad the whole towel thing happened, actually.”

  “And why’s that?” The wine was starting to swim slow laps in his own head, too. This was dangerous territory. The rich blanket that had swallowed Ellie from the waist down was starting to inch across his own thigh.

  “Just, like, it’s all out there. You know?”

  “All out there is one way to put it.”

  “Hey! You know what I mean.”

  “Why do you always lick the glass?” He’d wanted to ask for years, but it had never felt right.

  “What?”

  “The glass. You always lick them. I’ve… noticed for a while.”

  “Oh! Habit now, I guess. It keeps lipstick off of it—but I’m not even wearing any now!”

  “You’re cute, you know that?” he asked. It just slipped out; he couldn’t help it.

  “Cute, huh? Yeah. Like your kid sister or a puppy.” She shook her head and took another sip of wine.

  “No, I don’t mean that. I mean… gorgeous. You’ve become strikingly gorgeous, and I’m not even sure when it happened.”

  “Henry! Don’t tease me like that,” she whispered.

  The heat from her thigh pressing against his was almost unbearable. It was just one foot to close the distance between them. Letting the wine take the wheel, he felt himself dipping his face while his hand cupped her chin, lifting those idyllic lips toward his.

  “I better go to bed,” she said, turning her face away and rising up.

  “Oh, right. It’s late,” he said. Jesus, man, what’s wrong with you? He could kick himself for being so stupid. This was Ellie! Eli’s sister. He couldn’t be thinking about her like that. She was like family. Or at least she used to be. “Well, have a good night,” he said, pulling the blanket across his lap.

  “Are you going to your room?” she asked, turning her head and looking at him just like she had when she'd dropped the towel.

  “Um, yeah, in a minute. I’m just going to relax out here awhile longer.”

  Was he imagining it, or did she take a pointed look at his cock, which he was trying to readjust below the blanket? “Okay, well. ’Night.”

  When he heard her running the faucet in the downstairs bathroom, and after his erection subsided, he snuck upstairs without making a sound. Removing the books he’d hidden under the pillow, just in case Ellie went in his room, he slid between the sheets and turned off the bedside lamp.

  Seriously, what is wrong with me? She’s not my sister—and would Eli even care? Ellie’s been crushing on me for years, and it’s been way too long since I’ve been with anyone…

  Thinking about her now—the coolness of the sheet tracing along his legs and the image of her bent over with just a touch of pink showing between her thighs—he grew hard again instantly. And willed himself not to move his hands. Finally, he heard her go up the stairs and into her room.

  What’s she doing in there? Is she thinking about me—did I make an ass of myself?

  Between replaying her pulling away on the couch over and over in his mind and conjuring up images of her pert breasts and knowing smile, it took him hours to fall asleep. Still, he never touched himself.

  6

  She could tell by the pinkish light streaming through her sheer curtains that it was barely daylight. Why am I awake? Ellie was just as tired as she had been when she went to bed last night—albeit now with a subtle, throbbing wine headache. Henry. That’s right. No wonder she couldn’t sleep, not with him so close. There were just the oak walls separating them. Even through all the years of his friendship with Eli, they’d never stayed in the same house before, let alone just one room away.

  As she was stretching out in bed, letting the soft cotton sheet caress her legs, a loud noise erupted from outside. Snatching up her oversized cardigan, Ellie whipped it across her shoulders and cracked her bedroom door.

  “Did you hear that?” Henry asked, opening his own door and looking bleary eyed.

  “What was it?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Henry grumbled, stalking out of his room toward the staircase. Seeing him in just boxers and a T-shirt, it was impossible not to stare. She’d never seen him in anything except jeans, trousers, and the occasional slacks before. Now, watching him descend the stairs, she was mesmerized by his muscular legs. She eyed the wiry hair that was so unlike Sean’s boyish swimmer’s legs. Henry’s broad shoulders stretched the white shirt dangerously taut across his back, and she couldn’t help but notice how sleep had tousled his hair into a frenzied mess. It was the perfect complement to his otherwise gruff, manly features.

  Following him downstairs, she watched him stop before the picture window and let out a gasp. “What is it?” she asked, hurrying behind him—and then she saw it. The entire world was drenched in a perfect, untouched blanket of snow. “It’s at least three feet high,” she whispered.

  “Probably deeper. Snow can be deceiving,” he told her. And it was still falling. Thick, fluffy bits of magic fell nonstop from the sky, bowing the tree branches and burying the porch furniture. She’d always loved snow, how it seemed to cover everything in a thick layer of perfection like expertly laid buttercream frosting. Yet there was always the urge to rush at newly fallen snow and mess it up just a little, let her feet sink into the crunch of the frozen top layer and demand that her existence be known.

  “Shit,” Henry muttered next to her. “This is just perfect. Well… I’m going to make some coffee.” She nodded and flopped onto the couch, flipping on the television only to find more snow.

  “There’s no TV signal!” she called to Henry in the kitchen. His reply was muffled. He must be one of those people who need coffee before they're functional. Ellie slipped her phone out of her pajama bottom pocket, just to check. “Hey! You don’t have cell service here, do you?” she yelled. This time, his warbled reply was starting to sound annoyed.

  Ellie sighed, heading into the rarely used office where Eli kept the landline. Every time she’d used it at the cabin, she'd felt like a secretary in an old movie. For years, she'd made fun of Eli for demanding such a dinosaur piece of technology, but now she was thankful. Eli didn’t pick up, either at the private White House number or his cell phone, which he'd urged her not to use unless it was an emergency since it was easier to tap.

  Wait, was this the weekend he was going to be in South Korea for his meeting with their president? Crap, she thought so. When she glanced outside, the snowflakes seemed to have grown even larger.

  “Eli? It’s me,” she said to his voicemail. “I’m okay. I’m at the cabin. It’s just… it’s snowing pretty hard, and it looks like I’ll be snowed in a bit. That’s fine. I have plenty of groceries.” She bit her lip, debating whether to tell Eli about Henry or not. Why worry him, though? “Just… call me when you’re back. If you get a chance.”

  In the kitchen, Henry brewed a barista-quality carafe that was worlds away from the usual Keurig cup she made for herself. It had taken her years to be able to drink coffee, and she still wasn’t a huge fan unless it was saturated with cream and sweeteners. “Wow! That smells amazing,” she said. “And I usually don’t drink coffee much.”

  Just past Henry, who was pouring two steaming cups by the sink, the morning sun was stretching up above the mountain peaks. She couldn’t have dreamt up a better, more romantic morning. Opening a box of toaster pastries, she put two into the toaster—one for Henry and one for her. Stop staring at him, she thought. But looking at that mussed hair and that worn out T-shirt, she couldn’t help herself. These moments, early in the morning before coffee, before the birds, these were a person’s most intimate times. It was how he must look upon first waking up, and for a moment she felt like she'd been tucked into bed with him overnight. Like they were waking up together.

  Ellie’s face flushed at her thoughts. God, I’m really going to be a virgin forever. Thinking like this about men w
ho clearly are players. Confused players. She shook her head as the pastries popped up. Sitting across from Henry, she bit into the sugary treat between long pulls of coffee.

  “Any word from Eli? Or your Secret Service guys?” he asked. It seemed the coffee was working.

  She shook her head. “I think Eli’s overseas. And the Secret Service promised they were just a phone call away. I mean, there’s the caretaker’s cabin not far away, and that’s where they’re staying. That’s as ‘called off’ as Eli will allow, but they’ll only come around for emergencies. So I think all will be quiet on their front.”

  Henry nodded. “I’d forgotten about the little cabin,” he said. “No full-time caretakers anymore, then?”

  “No,” Ellie said. “What with Eli’s position now, he can’t really have non-cleared employees, even contractors.”

  “Makes sense,” Henry said. “It looks like we’re going to be snowed in a while,” she said, hungry to keep the conversation going.

  Henry lifted his head, and their eyes fixed on one another. “I can stay out of your way. I brought my laptop.”

  He’s ridiculous. “Don’t be silly. We’re both here for our own reasons. Let’s just… do what we’re going to do. You know. Go about our days separately until the snow clears a little. But, you know—there’s no reason to hide from each other. The cabin’s not that big.”

  “It’s pretty big.”

  “Is it?” she asked. “Still, I’ll probably starve if you don’t cook for me. So our paths need to cross at least a couple times each day!”

  Henry laughed and said, “You’re right about that.” He picked up both plates, rinsed them in the sink, and returned to his room. Ellie stayed at the breakfast table, watching the snow fall relentlessly as the sky shifted into an ice blue shade.

  When Henry came back downstairs, laptop in hand and heading straight for the office, she rose and headed for a shower. This time I’ll be sure and get dressed before leaving my room!

  Time slowed down at the cabin, especially with no TV or Wi-Fi. This, she hadn’t planned on. Not just the lack of entertainment, but the electric charge that came with knowing Henry was just one room away. Every now and then, she could hear a gentle clacking of his keyboard, but otherwise he stayed quiet.

  What can I do? This is so boring. Finally, she squatted down to the stack of books Eli curated for the custom-made bookshelves that wrapped around the entire first floor, hugging the walls up until the bottom of each windowsill. Lolita, Tampa, and The Bell Jar. Really, Eli? Quite the collection here. She settled on Atonement, a book she vaguely remembered from AP English from high school.

  Tucking her legs beneath her, she settled into the rich leather chair by the fireplace.

  Hours passed like minutes. Why hadn't she realized how amazing this book was back when boring Mr. Horst was teaching it? She ached for Cecilia. And then for Robbie, especially as he was forced to enlist. How lovely it must have been, though, to have those steamy love letters to satiate you. It was only when Ellie found herself reaching for the arching modern lamp that she realized the entire day had passed. Sometime, without her noticing, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains. In that darkness, in that solitude, her heart split open for Robbie. Injured and barely making it to the safe haven, he only has the memory of Cecilia to keep him walking—his only reason to live is the hope of seeing her again. Salty tears began to roll down Ellie’s cheeks, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Ellie? What’s wrong?” How long has he been in the doorway?

  “Oh! Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s just not fair, you know?”

  “What’s not fair?”

  “This.” Ellie gestured to the book.

  Henry tried to stifle a grin. “Is that Atonement?”

  “Yeah… so?” Indignation rose in her throat. How dare he? He’d locked himself away all day long, and now he thought he had the right to judge her?

  “I haven’t read that since… well, I guess Mr. Horst’s class forever ago back in high school.”

  “You had him, too?”

  “Ellie, I think our grandparents had him. Anyway, dinner soon? It’ll take me about an hour. You can finish the book, then we can find something mindless to watch tonight. I think Eli still has a bunch of DVDs stashed away in the closet.”

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

  “You know, Ellie, not everything in life is grim. Or has to be.” She watched him walk to the kitchen, humming quietly to himself.

  “I can’t believe you picked 13 Going on 30,” he told her, reaching for another fistful of popcorn from the bowl in her lap.

  “Hey! You said I could choose. And this is a seriously underrated film.”

  “Film? I think if it stars Jennifer Garner, you can go ahead and call it a movie.”

  “Whatever,” she told him. As if it was so ridiculous to fall in love with a person you’d known your entire life.

  “Are you crying again?” he asked her right as the characters met face to face the morning of Mark Ruffalo’s wedding to someone else.

  “It’s sad,” she told him.

  “Why? In my experience, things don’t work out the way they do in movies. It’s actually refreshing to see a rom-com plot that doesn’t follow some prescribed equation of a happily ever after.” Clearly, he really hasn’t seen this movie before.

  “Don’t you have a heart?” she asked, only half-joking and digging her elbow into his ribs.

  “Maybe not. Like the Tin Man.” Ellie was puzzled. Is he talking about his own life? Actually, she realized she didn’t really know that much about Henry. She’d known him forever, but what did that even mean? Maybe she’d just been idolizing him this entire time because he was hot and Eli’s friend.

  She worried her lips, pulling gently with her teeth. If she was going to get to know him, really know him, there was certainly no better time or place than now. But how could she get him to open up?

  “So it’s a happily ever after after all,” he said, shaking his head as the characters were transported back to their thirteen-year-old selves to begin a lifetime of romance. “Figures. Well,” he said, standing up and stretching, his biceps swelling with every movement, “I’m going to put the dishes away and go to bed.”

  “Okay.” Ellie switched off the TV.

  “And, hey. Ellie?” he asked, pausing at the doorway. “No matter what you might hear, don’t come into my room.”

  “What? What are you talking ab—”

  “Just promise me. Okay?”

  “Henry, don’t be weird. What are you—”

  “Ellie!” he barked at her. This was a command. “Promise me.”

  “Okay, okay. Geez.”

  “Thanks.”

  As she watched him disappear down the hall, listened to the clang of the dishes and finally his footsteps ascending the stairs, she realized he'd just intrigued her more. What a mystery he is.

  7

  I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It was his third day of being snowbound, and Henry was going stircrazy. Cabin fever, maybe. Whatever you wanted to call it, he'd come here to escape. To relax. But this? This was like being in enemy territory all over again without any signs of an exit strategy. And Ellie was making it even harder.

  Actually, she was making him even harder. There was something about her, and he couldn’t quite pin it down. In so many ways she was the same Ellie he’d always known, and he still caught glimpses of the young girl he’d grown up with. The way just a hint of her gums showed when she laughed, or how she nibbled on her thumbnail when she was enthralled in a book or movie.

  And those pre-bed antics, those seeming rituals they’d established since day one were getting even more heated. Did she know what she was doing to him? Was she better at this whole temptress thing than he’d given her credit for?

  “Henry,” she said, pulling her bare knees toward her and resting her chin gently on them. “Tell me what your deal is with blondes. I know everyone has a
type, of course, but it’s like you’ve got a collection of Barbie doppelgangers you’re going through.”

  “How about you tell me why you insist on wearing shorts and tank tops in the middle of a snowstorm? It’s burning up in here!” he teased. Although he really did want to know. Had she actually packed this brigade of tiny shorts and barely-there camisoles for a supposed winter mountain retreat alone?

  She shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve always liked being warm and toasty indoors while it’s freezing outside. Besides,” she added with a smile, “Eli’s the one footing the electricity bill.”

  “He might be paying for it, but it’s still not the greenest strategy for the environment.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you’re one of those,” she said, rolling her eyes and stretching her long legs out on the couch.

  “Hey, mind leaving a little room for me?” he asked.

  “You have that whole cushion at the end to yourself,” she said. “Besides, you don’t like being so close to the fire anyway. So, are you going to tell me? Or what?”

  “About the Barbies?” he asked. “There’s not much to tell. It goes both ways, you know. That type of woman has always come on to me.”

  “So, what? You’re innocent in all of this and these blondes are just like pumas ready to pounce all over you?”

  “Something like that,” he said, smiling at her.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, thrusting out her lower lip in a fake pout. “Why not a nice brunette? Or, you know, you could go totally wild and go Asian, black, Latina—”

  “Redhead?” he asked, squeezing her foot that was pushing against his leg.

  “Hey! Knock it off,” she said. “I’m ticklish. Besides, you know what they say about redheads.”

  “They’re firecrackers,” he replied, unable to bring himself to end with “in bed.”

  “Well, I was going to say that we’re all crazy,” she said, leaning over and taking another sip from her wine glass. “Or that it’s likely that the curtains match the drapes,” she said with a giggle. “One or the other.”