I’m not sure why James is being so weird, but I know that something is off and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Could it all really be about work? Or is it something else? I know what James is like when he’s stressed about work and he has never come off like that. I’m packing the rest of my stuff into my suitcase when my phone rings.

  “Can you be ready earlier than one? I got out of work a little earlier,” James says as soon as I answer.

  “Hello to you too, and yes, my exam went well, thanks.” Really? This mood is still lingering then.

  “Sorry, Gabrielle. Just a lot of shit going on with work.”

  I frown, thinking of his use of my full name which he rarely uses. “You never call me Gabrielle.”

  He chuckles and a wave of irritation hits me. “It’s your name.” I can hear the overt sarcasm and it annoys the shit out of me. He never talks to me this way.

  “You know what I mean, James.”

  He’s quiet for a second and then it’s as if my previous comment wasn’t uttered. “Can you be ready sooner or no?”

  “Why are you acting like you’re mad at me?” It’s a weird thing when you’re in love with someone in your family. Fights or disagreements with them feel personal in two ways that somehow have to co-exist within you. I’m his sister and the person he may be closest to in life. He’s my best friend and I never wanted to be on weird terms with him. But I’m also in love with him which makes things difficult in their own way.

  Luckily for me, we aren’t together, so I can push him without seeming like the whiny emotional girlfriend.

  “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You were weird this morning. Like I did something. I don’t buy that it’s about work. Please talk to me.”

  He sighs. “Gab, just let it go. It is just work.”

  “And now you’re lying to me! What happened to telling each other everything?”

  He’s silent and I pull my phone away from my ear briefly, wondering if we lost the call or if he really lost his mind and hung up on me. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

  “Why do you keep changing the subject? Why are you not answering any of my questions?”

  “GAB!” he shouts and my eyes widen at his tone. “Just…let it the fuck alone, alright?”

  My eyebrows furrow and tears prickle at the corners of my eyes. This is where I draw the line. What the fuck did I even do? I’m literally so in love with the man, I could barely focus on my final exam because this was weighing on me and he has the audacity to treat me like this? “Fuck you, James. Don’t take whatever shit you have going on out on me. I’m not coming over. I’ll tell Mom to book me a train.”

  “No.”

  Excuse you? “Yes.”

  “Gabrielle, don’t be stubborn.”

  “You should have thought about that before you were a dick,” I growl before hanging up. I rarely do that. Hang up on anyone, let alone James. Guilt pumps through me as I begin to pace the room wondering why on Earth he’s behaving this way. What happened between me going to bed and waking up this morning that would make him so pissy with me?

  A part of me wonders if maybe he heard me masturbate last night, but while he may be slightly embarrassed over it, who the hell cares? It’s not like I screamed his name during my climax no matter how badly I wanted to.

  My phone begins to vibrate in my hand and part of me wants to ignore it, just once. Just so I can say I can and that he doesn’t have complete power over me. I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a breath before answering the phone. “What?”

  “Come let me in.”

  I grit my teeth, getting myself ready to give the bitchiest attitude. “Why?”

  “Because I’m here to get you and you might need help. Don’t make me tell you again.” His tone is direct with a bite to it and my mouth drops open just as my sex throbs painfully. Fuck, why is that so hot? Don’t act turned on, Gabrielle. Act pissed.

  “Excuse me? Who are you? Mom?”

  “Gabrielle, I’m not in the mood.”

  “And I already said to take your shitty mood and leave me be, I just finished my first semester of college today; I’d like to be happy if you don’t mind.”

  He lets out another 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. Even though, simultaneously my heart is racing with excitement that he’s here. “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 like this?”

  “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.”

  The thought that my presence could help raise his spirits makes me feel slightly better. “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.” He doesn’t need to know that I wouldn’t entertain anyone hitting on me anyway.

  “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 even though 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. Thank God, I didn’t say anything more than that.

  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?”

  He raises an eyebrow and shoots me a look. “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.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, he responds, “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.

  He frowns, though I think he’s trying to be funny. “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 friends over the age of twenty-one that would be better at planning a party for you? Not your underaged sister?”

  He rests his forearms on his knees and plays with his empty glass before turning his gaze to me. “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. A dark lock of hair falls over his eyes and my hands ball into fists before I can do something crazy like move it out of his eyes for him. Thankfully, he runs a hand through his hair, removing it from his face.

  “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.”

  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,” he chuckles.

  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.”

  He snorts in response. “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 you and I had 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 wholeheartedly 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.