How It's Said

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Anna’s Pov

The head lights of my car reflect off the yellow strip down the center of the road. My car is the only one on the road and I can’t help but feel lost.

I keep one hand on the wheel as I sneak a peek at Melissa. Her long hair is hanging around her shoulder; the normally straight strands are tangled. Her head is down, her eyes at her lap. I know she’s upset, about what, I’m not entirely sure. I’m just glad I found her.

Where I found her? I’m not too happy about that.

Finding your little sister half naked in bed with a man? Not the best sight. I have no right to ask if she’s still a virgin, but considering how intimate she was with Ethan, I would go for no. God, my little sister got laid before I did. How fucked up is that?

Melissa doesn’t offer and explanation and I don’t ask for one. I know that if Dad or David ever hears about this she’ll be grounded until college. I don’t need to give her shit too. I think back to the hell she’s put me through in the past few hours and I decide I don’t need to give her too much shit about this.

The drive home is short, but takes forever. The radio is playing quietly, but the awkwardness is loud. I can’t wait to get home.

A few minutes later we’re pulling into the driveway. Melissa knows she’s in trouble and follows carefully behind me as I walk into the house. We stand in the living room for a minute. Her head is down, eyes on the carpet. I know Melissa is itching to run upstairs and forget this thing ever happened, but being the big sister that I am, I have to make this night something she won’t ever forget. For the right reasons, ah hem.

“Have you and Ethan had sex.” I ask pointedly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Melissa grimaces, obviously not enjoying where this is going.

“Yes or no?” I demand.

“Yes.” Melissa whispers.

I shake my head. What the hell am I supposed to say? I know what I should say. Did you use condoms? Are you on birth control? Are you pregnant? The problem is, I really don’t want to ask these things.

Instead I say, “Go to bed, we’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Melissa, obviously happy for a reason to escape, nearly runs up the stairs and into her room.

I know I’m too hyped up to sleep, so I wander into the kitchen. I don’t bother to turn the light on as I reach into the fridge for a soda.

I nearly scream when two hands roughly turn me around.

“What the fuck!” I hiss. The soda can is clenched in my hand, my fingers digging into the cold can.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I demand, the moon lighting the kitchen just enough for me to realize who it is. Eric.

“I couldn’t let you leave. Not after that.” He smirks. As if “that” was really based on pure passion and desire and not black mail for information. Asshole.

“That has nothing to do with us.” I point my finger at him, annoyed.

“That has everything to do with us, sweetheart.” Eric smiles. He actually was fucking smiles. In that moment, the few seconds that beautiful smile is on his face, I see something I’ve never seen on his face before. Vulnerability. The full force of that vulnerability hits me. What makes him vulnerable? Why would he be vulnerable? Women flock to him, men both love and hate him, his parents are loaded and he’s single. Most people would consider that the life.