“She’s—” I was going to explain to her who she was when I remembered my sister seemed to know more about Nicole than I did.
“I know who she is,” Estelle said. I held my breath, waiting for her to start freaking out. “You’re on TMZ right now, you know? I literally just saw you and Gabriel in an ice cream shop.” She paused and frowned, looking at me momentarily. “Was all of that an act? Wait. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. Sorry. I’m sure you’re sick of people asking you about him and stuff. Make yourself at home.”
All I could do was stare. My sister was an idiot. Nicole surprised me by laughing.
“You’d be surprised how many regular people don’t ask me about it. I only get questions from the paparazzi.”
“Oh. That must suck so bad, being followed like that,” Estelle said, walking over to the kitchen. “Do you want wine? Is it too early for you? Do you even drink? Sorry, I kind of assume everybody drinks.”
“She does,” I said. “She assumes a lot of things. Forgive her. I’m starting to think maybe my thirteen-year-old self had been right about her being adopted.”
Nicole laughed. “I drink, and it’s never too early for wine.”
Estelle came back with two glasses and handed one to Nicole with a smile. “I hope you like Riesling.”
“I do. I have a hard time discriminating when it comes to alcohol.”
Estelle laughed. She looked at me, and I already knew what she was thinking. I glared at her so she would take that out of her mind, but she smiled wider.
“So, you’re a costume designer, right? That sounds like such a cool job. How did you get into that?” Estelle asked.
“Umm . . . where’s my drink?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. She shot me a look.
“You know where the kitchen is.”
I shook my head and headed over there. Either way I was going to change my clothes before I started this process. I went to the guest room, where I kept some just-in-case clothes, for late nights drinking when I didn’t feel like driving home, and changed into a pair of basketball shorts and the first shirt in the drawer, which happened to be a Born Sinner shirt from the J. Cole concert Jensen and I went to a couple years ago.
“I think my room is the neatest place in this entire house,” I said, walking back to the living room, where Estelle and Nicole were sitting facing each other like old high school girlfriends reuniting.
The sight made me smile. It was like she’d been here countless times. My sister had met all of my past girlfriends, and some girls I dated briefly. I liked bringing them around her before I took them anywhere near my parents. I couldn’t remember the last time she acted so comfortable around one, not that I was dating Nicole, but then again, my definition of dating differed from the rest of America it seemed.
“If you’re so concerned about the mess, then pick it up,” Estelle said. I caught Nicole’s smile before she hid it behind her glass of wine. I held back my comment because talking about somebody’s mouth on you in front of people was inappropriate, but there were a million things I wanted to do with that mouth of hers. Stop thinking about her mouth. Stop thinking about her tongue and the way it feels against yours, and her soft skin beneath your grip. Deep breath. I turned around quickly.
“Where’s the box?”
“Right there beside the table.”
I sighed, putting my hands over my head. This fucking girl. I let them continue to have their conversation about elastic and glass hearts and started to pick up everything in my way from a pair of flip-flops to a box of canvases. Once I was finished I realized it really wasn’t as much as I originally thought. It just looked like a mess when it was in the way. I would keep that to myself, though. I took the TV mount out of the box and all the screws and stood up to get the drill out of the garage.
“You know I’m going to need your help after I’m done with this part, right?” I asked when I saw my sister serving more wine as I walked back to the living room with the drill in my hand.
“I know,” she said, smiling. She blew me a kiss as she walked back to the kitchen with the bottle of wine, which I assumed was empty. “I love you, brother.”
I made a face as I sat back down on the floor. Of course she loved me now. I heard Nicole get up from the couch, but didn’t look up from the instruction booklet in my hands. She kneeled down beside me.
“You look hot with a drill in your hands,” she said in a whisper.
My heart jumped. I tilted my face to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed from the wine, and her hair was falling out of her ponytail again. I reached out and pulled on her hair tie, letting it flow down her shoulders. I kept my hand at the nape of her neck. It was a beautiful sight. So beautiful that all I could do was picture all that hair splayed over my pillowcase.
“I always look hot. It’s a curse I’ve had to live with all my life,” I said. She smiled, a small laugh leaving her lips as she tilted her head to better meet my gaze.