I regret that statement five minutes into shopping at the bra store. First, the place is tiny. Between Zeke and me and the display tables, there’s hardly any room to maneuver. Second, it smells good. Like some vanilla and flower mixture. Livvie likes it, too.
“Are you burning candles here or some kind of scent thingy?” she asks.
“Scent diffuser. We have a whole line over here. The one we are using today is Vanilla Breeze,” the sales lady informs us.
“Oh, great. Erika, do we need this?”
Fuck, no. I’ll associate that smell with an almost nude Livvie and nothing else. I don’t need that kind of hassle. “I’m allergic to vanilla,” I lie.
“Since when?” Livvie asks.
“Since right this second.”
“Fine. No scents.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll just use the extra money to buy more undies. I like this nightie. What do you think, Erika?” Livvie holds up a pink and black lace get up that has ruffles and some kind of shoelace tie up the middle. I about swallow my tongue. Panic sets in and I rush over the bottles Livvie had just abandoned.
“We’ll take a half-dozen,” I say, shoving them by the armful at the sales lady.
“And I’ll take one of these in every color you’ve got.”
I turn to see Livvie holding up a sheer bra in blue. There’s a tiny satin bow in the center of two cups and darker blue satin shoulder straps. Livvie’s lips curl up. “There’s not a piece of lace in sight.” She swings the bra toward me.
I catch it because I’ve been cursed with great hand-eye coordination. I look toward my brother for help, but his face is tight and his pupils are dilated. The boy is imagining what Livvie’s beautiful tits would look like covered in the blue thing I’m holding. I realize then that we’ve been bested. If we spend another second in this store, we’re bound to attack Livvie right here in public.
She’ll be spread across one of these round tables, with her legs draped over my shoulders and her tits in Zeke’s mouth. I’ll be tearing her panties off and getting her cream all over the new merch.
I sag in defeat. “You win, Livvie. You can have your box back.”
Livvie sets down the handful of lace and satin and bows and ruffles and gives me an angelic smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
She waltzes over and plucks two bottles of the cursed vanilla air freshener out of my grasp. “We only need two. Thanks so much for your help.”
Zeke collapses against a drawer full of bras. “We are so fucked, brother.”
I grip the back of my neck and squeeze. “I know.”
10
Olivia
I lie on my bed reading over my schedule and putting everything into my calendar, making sure I have the required items the professor said we need. I hate being unprepared for anything.
Erika lies on her side reading her Kindle and swiping faster with her finger than I thought was possible. I’ve noticed her Kindle is never far from her. I’ve also noticed she never talks about friends or even her parents, except for the one time I asked. It actually made me feel a little guilty when my mom called an hour ago. She not only checked up on me, she then asked me to turn my phone angle so she could say hi to Erika too. Mom even asked if my roommate needed anything and what her favorite color was. I’m certain the next care package will have something for both of us in it.
Erika smiled, clearly enjoying the fact someone was checking on her. Where are her own mom and dad? I’ve already put them on my shit list. It’s a short one containing Mr. Martin who threw away the box of cookies I’d been sneak eating under my desk in the fourth grade, and Julia Cranston, who stole my science project in fifth grade. My mom had made those cookies. I don’t care if she made me more and told me to let it go. Mr. Martin and Julie are still on the list and now they have two more people to hang out with. My men are going to be the next to go on that list if they don’t start touching me. I smirk to myself. I should tell them. Their offended reactions would be hilarious.
“I’m missing a book.” I roll over to look at Erika. “I don’t know how I missed it, but I did.” I sigh, picking up my phone and seeing how fast I can get one shipped to me.
“I’m sure it’s in the school’s bookstore,” she tells me. “They keep them all in stock.”
“Good, because this is saying delivery will take two weeks. What takes two weeks to ship these days?” I drop the phone down onto the bed next to me. “What else do they have in this bookstore? Snacks?” Now I’m craving cookies. Thanks a lot, Mr. Martin, for once again messing something up for me.