And yet I felt… Hell. I didn’t know how I felt. Her perfect body was so familiar in my hands. She had all the right curves in all the best places, and creamy skin, and pretty hair. But somehow I was seeing it from a distance that hadn’t ever been there before.
Maybe it was the fact that she’d been half-way around the world for a few months, and I wasn’t used to her. But suddenly, I felt a lack that hadn’t been there before. The craving I’d always had — to have a big life with the most beautiful girl — she’d always satisfied it. But for some reason, there was an unfamiliar hunger in my gut now, and I didn’t really know what to make of it.
Maybe I just needed an omelet.
I gave Stacia a kiss on the cheek and left the women to their party planning. It was time to eat my omelet, and to let Mr. Beacon chat me up about my econ class. And that would probably remind me of Corey. Which would make me think about…
Fuck.
— Corey
On New Year’s Eve, my parents always drove over to the Friedberg’s house in Madison to ring in the New Year with champagne. “Come with us, guys,” my mom said.
Champagne was not my friend. “I think I’ll skip it,” I said.
“I’m going to hang with Corey,” Damien said.
After they left the house, Damien and I made ice cream sundaes and flipped channels on the television. Watching the ball drop in Times Square was too lame, so I picked out an old movie.
“So,” my brother said after he’d finished his ice cream. “How come you’re not hanging out with high-school friends?”
Uh oh. If my brother was quizzing me, it was probably because my parents put him up to it. “You weren’t here last year, but it was rough. A lot of my friends dumped me, especially hockey friends. Except for Kristin, and she’s in Fiji with her parents.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
“I’m over it.” That was mostly true. “But I don’t feel like working for it, you know? I’m going back to school in a couple of days, anyway.”
“Fair enough.” My brother took my empty bowl from my hands. “But Mom and Dad think you’re depressed. Like, clinically.”
Crap. That meant my mood had been more transparent than I’d hoped. “I’m not, honestly. School is good. I like it there.”
“Your roommate seems great.”
“She is!”
He measured me with a blue-eyed stare. “I told them they were overreacting. But you’re acting really quiet, so it’s hard to sell your side of it.”
“I’m sure they think school is too hard on me, or something. But really, it’s much less interesting than that. It’s just boy trouble.”
At that, Damien looked startled. “Um, I don’t know if I should hear this part. Sex is, like, the only thing I can’t discuss with you.”
I smiled for the first time all night. My whole life, I’d tried to stock up on things that made Damien squeamish. There weren’t many. “You don’t want to hear all the dirty details?” It was a total bluff — I’d never spill.
But it worked. He looked more uncomfortable by the second. “Please tell me you’re not sleeping with Hartley.”
My reply was quick and easy. “I’m not sleeping with Hartley.” And that’s the problem. But brother still looked a little tense. “Or anyone else,” I added.
Relief washed across his face. “So what’s the trouble?”
Clearly I wouldn’t explain. But I did have a question. “Damien, do you think that you would ever find a woman in a wheelchair sexy?”
His forehead creased. “Well, sure. But I haven’t met any women in wheelchairs. Present company excepted. And you can never be sexy. Because you’re my little sister.”
I snorted. “Unfortunately, the rest of the world agrees with you. When guys look at me, I think they just see the chair. Like I’m not a full-on member of the opposite sex.”
“Look, Corey,” he put his chin in his hand. “If Sofia Vergara passes me on the street in a wheelchair, I’m still going to chase her down the sidewalk.”
“So if I had giant boobs and a role on a hit TV show…”
He laughed. “Don’t forget the hot accent. She really rocks it.”
Yeah. There was really no hope for me.
When our movie ended, Damien and I played another game of RealStix. My brother made the unfortunate decision to play as the Red Wings, and I had no trouble crushing him. “Thanks for taking it easy on me,” I teased afterwards. He gave me an eye roll and went into the kitchen for a beer.
That’s when my phone rang. I plucked it off the coffee table and saw Hartley’s number on the display. My heart gave a squeeze of surprise, and out of nowhere, my hope fairy appeared. Pick it up! She was wearing a sparkly dress for New Year’s.
A smarter girl would not have listened. A smarter girl would have let it go to voice-mail.
I answered it, of course. Then his husky voice was right there in my ear. “Happy New Year, Callahan.”
“Hi,” I said, my voice breathy. I swallowed and tried to get a grip. “Where are you?” I asked. Wherever he was, it was loud.
“I am at a very stuffy party in Greenwich, Connecticut. But I was thinking about you.”