“Margot. Hi.”
Margot, the one he was talking to last night. The sister who more than likely spent the night listening to us having sex.
She stops, meeting my eyes. “London. Hey, I didn’t know you were up.” She looks like she got only marginally more sleep than I did.
I adjust my towel. “Just needed a shower. You’re up early.”
A slow, teasing smile spreads across her face. “Actually, I never really went to sleep.”
I groan a little.
She laughs. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Want some coffee?”
I look back toward Luke’s room, where the door is still pulled shut, and nod. “Sure.”
“Sweet. Let me use the bathroom, and I’ll meet you in there.”
She steps around me and closes the door, and I walk down the hall to the kitchen.
The sun is just starting to come up, the sky beginning to brighten on the other side of the window. I’ve been here enough times to know where Luke keeps his dishes and I pull two mugs down from the cupboard, opening doors until I find the coffee. I hear the toilet flush and the water run in the sink and then Margot is there, her taller form hovering beside me as she reaches for the filters.
She looks so much like Luke that it’s a little unnerving. They share the same thick dark hair, the same full brows and perfect cheekbones. But it’s the intensity of their gaze that’s the most pronounced. If I thought Luke was intimidating before he smiles, he has nothing on his sister.
We stand in silence while the coffeemaker gurgles and hisses in the background, and I search my mind for things to say, an icebreaker that doesn’t begin with I’m sorry I kept you up because I was so loudly banging your brother.
The scent of fresh coffee fills the air and when the machine chimes to signal it’s done, it spurs me into action. “So you live closer to campus?” I ask.
She nods, holding out her mug for me to fill. “I still come over to hassle him when I need to. Maybe do some laundry or steal his towels to take to the beach.” She pulls back her full mug with a quiet “Thanks,” eyes dropping down to my body briefly. “That’s a nice one, by the way. One of my favorites.”
I follow her gaze and realize I’m still wearing Luke’s Stone Brewery towel. “Oh, boy,” I say with an embarrassed smile. “I’m practically naked. In your brother’s kitchen.”
She waves me off. “Are you kidding? That’s the tamest thing I’ve seen here first thing in the morning.” Margot looks momentarily horrified with what she’s just said, but I smile, trying to hide the way my heart and lungs take a nosedive into my belly.
“Yeah, well,” I say, floundering. “I was just going to get dressed and head home when I ran into you.”
“Ahh.” She slips a piece of bread into the toaster and adds, “Were you going to leave without telling him?”
There’s a hint of protective big sister in her tone, and while I get it, I’m not really sure how to balance that against the scores of possibly naked shenanigans she’s just alluded to.
I really like Margot: we share the same hobby in teasing Luke, and my friends absolutely adore her, but after talking to Harlow and Lola two days ago, I’m more and more convinced that I don’t have to explain myself, or what’s happening between her brother and me to anyone, even her.
“I hadn’t really decided yet,” I admit, holding my mug up to my nose to inhale the pungent, nutty odor. “Is this the part where you tell me what a great guy he is?”
Margot doesn’t get defensive on his behalf. Instead, she snorts, laughing to herself as she rips off a paper towel and sets it on the counter. “No way.”
“Really?”
“My brother is a great guy,” she says with a shrug. “He’s honest when it counts, undeniably loyal, and has a huge heart. But I know he’s been a player. It’s not really my place to convince you of anything.” The toast pops up and Margot reaches into the fridge for the butter dish. “That’s his job. You’re a smart girl, and it’s obvious he has feelings for you. But you know what you need more than I do.”
The knife spreads butter across the toast with a quiet scratching sound, and Margot smiles at me over her shoulder. That smile melts away any worry I had that she was trying to make me feel unwelcome. In fact, it makes me think she’s glad I’m here.
“I really like you, London,” she says. “You’ll figure it all out.”
* * *