《Paper Houses》


 Husband

    "Yes," she whispered, pulling back the unfastened strands of hair that feathered over her face, hiding the quiver in her fingers as she neatly tucked them behind her ear. Her hands shook as she crossed her arms over her chest, and she stiffly shifted her weight for a semblance of composure. It was almost comical given the white bedsheet firmly wrapped around her naked body, draping to the floor, and the disheveled pale blonde hair that cascaded in ripples down her shoulders.


    "Yes?" He echoed. He did not expect the crack in his voice or the tightness that encircled his throat. Tension spread across his chest and squeezed at his insides, pitting his stomach against the eggs and bacon he''d had for breakfast.


    It wasn''t the answer he hoped for.


    "You''re confused." It wouldn''t be the first time. He had to believe that. But the crushing feeling inside his chest had not ebbed. And he remembered their bodies, naked and tangled, his labored breaths and desperate thrusts as he sought his release and longed for hers. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut, almost painfully so when he finally went limp inside her. She never uttered a sound, not even after their bodies came unjoined. Then this morning, leaning in to kiss her lips, the slight cold turn of her head, only to graze the corners of her mouth. He realized it had not been the first time.


    "I''m not. Not anymore." There was a tremble in her voice that did not match the resolute look in her azure eyes. She cast a disquieted glance to their bedroom, the door slightly ajar. "But you still haven''t asked¡ª" she paused. "I know how this seems. And you''re not wrong, but it''s also not¡ª"


    He heard a strangled sob from their bedroom through the opened crack, and every muscle in his body tensed. They both turned to look. The door clicked shut, and he clenched his jaw. He caught her eyes as he turned back to face her, and he could see the panic and shame in them. She was afraid of him. And afraid for what lay beyond that door.


    For the intruder that had fractured their lives.


    Ten years, he thought, the anger billowing in his eyes. He remembered tentative glances. Their sweaty palms as they held hands in school hallways, the awkward first kiss as their teeth clanked, the first night making love under the stars in the back seat of his father''s car. It was all ending.


    "My sister! My baby sister!" He screamed, pointing to their bedroom, his arm shaking and his face burning a seething red. In that moment he couldn''t love and hate her more. Why he still loved her, he wasn''t sure, but he fought against the urge to latch onto her throat and squeeze the breath out of her.


    "I know," she sobbed, pressing a hand against the wall as her enervating legs threatened to collapse beneath her. "I''m awful and weak. I didn''t mean for any of this. Please, don''t blame her."Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The bedsheet inched down her chest, unveiling a bright red bruise on the inner swell of her breast. That''s when he took in just how swollen her lips were and how flushed and pink her skin was. The glistening glow of sex radiating off of her like an animal in heat. Minutes before she had been calling out someone else''s name, enjoying someone else''s touch in a way that she never had with him. She never craved him like he craved her.


    "Claire," he began to say, but her name caught in his throat, and evaporated into thin air. She never loved me.


    He left.


    The screen door slapped shut loudly behind him as he fumbled through his pockets for his keys. He could barely see under the tears that welled in his eyes. He could hear her now, the creek of the door as the intruder made her way out of the bedroom, her feet slapping on the wooden floors. And likely running into his wife''s arms.


    She wasn''t always an intruder. Once, she was the little girl that used to wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to tell her stories; the girl who used to cover for him when their parents caught him in a lie, and who used to give him skittles when he was feeling sick, but only the green ones because she liked those the least. The girl who¡¯d beg him time and again to read her Anne of Green Gables, even though their mother was the better storyteller.


    "Why do you like that silly book so much?"


    "It''s not silly!"


    "Fine, it''s not silly."


    "Don''t you think she''s just so amazing?"


    "Amazing how?"


    "She''s not afraid to walk on rooftops or go up against the boys. She''s so brave."


    "Is that what you think bravery is? Walking on rooftops? She''s crazy, and you''re no better."


    Ellie laughed, the kind of childish laugh that chimed like a string of tiny bells. Her small fingers clasped the book to her chest, and he couldn''t imagine his little sister ever being anything other than a boisterous child.


    Except now she wasn''t so little anymore. Not after what he''d seen. Her head of tousled red hair buried between her thighs, hands touching where they shouldn''t. With my wife.


    She was behind him now, her hands pressed against the screen mesh of the door that divided them, her breath disparate and rattled. And he remembered nights more than a decade ago, her small body trembling and wheezing, ravaged by fevers and chronic illness. Little hands that clung to him in the darkness.


    "Ephraim, please don''t tell dad," his sister called out through the screen door, the desperation unmistakable in her voice. But it wasn''t the voice of a child, it was a stranger. A woman who had taken her place.


    He burst into a hollow laugh and dropped his keys. When he crouched down to pick them up, he froze in place. Watching as his tears evaporated on the hot concrete.

 Wedding

    It was the best man who spoke last, topping off his wine glass for the third time that night as he rose from his chair. His gait was already much too unsteady to move without leading a trail of chardonnay from his seat to the podium, prompting his sister, Micah, to usher the ring bearer into action. Raphi was older than he looked. At nine, his height and mass had him looking more like a six-year-old. But what he lacked in form, he made up for in speed, and he was quick to clean up after the best man, gliding on his knees as he wiped the spills off the floor with a tablecloth. This drew a few raised brows and whispers from the guests seated closest to the stage.


    ¡°Hey, I''m Mateo, the best man here, and I have my speech somewhere,¡± Mateo mumbled into the microphone, patting down his jacket in exaggerated hand gestures. ¡°It was here a second ago.¡± Squinting anxiously at the reception hall full of guests, the best man forced a smile as he sheepishly dug through his tuxedo pocket.


    ¡°See?¡± He grinned as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and flattened it out on the podium. ¡°I knew I had it.¡± Then clearing his throat, he inhaled sharply, straightening his stance and holding up the glass of wine, just like he¡¯d rehearsed over a dozen times in front of a mirror.


    ¡°Do as much as you can around the house, Ephraim,¡± Mateo urged in practiced mock seriousness. ¡°That¡¯s the secret to a good marriage. Do everything. And I mean everything; shopping, cooking, tidying up, vacuuming,¡± he said as he counted off with his fingers. ¡°Everything...except washing. Don¡¯t touch the washing. You¡¯re not qualified.¡±


    A ripple of laughter filled the reception hall, and somewhere near the back tables Ellie, Ephraim''s much younger sister, fidgeted with a frayed paper napkin, twisting it into knots, and looking on with a firm mouth at the bride as Claire clung onto Ephraim¡¯s arm, bracing herself against him whenever she fell into laughter.


    ¡°If you expect your marriage to last, you will not touch the washing,¡± Mateo went on, glancing over at Micah, the smile momentarily fleeing from his face. ¡°There¡¯s systems to follow, procedures, rotations¡­.special hanging techniques. Tissue discovery checklists. All of which can¡¯t be taught and can¡¯t be learned.¡±


    ¡°Tell that to my wife!¡± Claire¡¯s newlywed uncle shouted, and another wave of laughter erupted over the dying chuckles.


    ¡°And...it¡¯s scary too.¡± Mateo continued as the silence set back in. ¡°You¡¯ll find things you don¡¯t want to find. I remember discovering that my wife had an eye abnormality because I kept finding all these eye patches.¡± He paused. ¡°Like the kind that pirates wear...I know, scary. Turned out to be her underwear.¡±Stolen story; please report.


    Someone in the back let out a loud whistle, and within moments the hall swelled with whistles and whoops from the crowd. Mateo raised a hand to take back the floor.


    ¡°The point is, stick to the vacuuming, and you¡¯ll be just fine.¡± Raising his glass up higher, he urged his audience to do the same. ¡°To Ephraim and Claire,¡± he toasted. ¡°May their happiness endure the most tragic of washing cycles.¡±


    ¡°To Ephraim and Claire,¡± the guests chorused.


    Mateo smiled tightly as he nodded to Ephraim, and polished down his teeming glass. He didn¡¯t return to his seat after his speech. Jamming the crumpled paper back into his pocket, he walked past his table and out the main doors of the reception hall. Moments later, the band began to play, their music barely muted through the old soundproof walls. Mateo took a seat in the lounge, and lit a cigarette, indifferent to the no-smoking sign in the middle of the room.


    ¡°That was quite a speech,¡± Ephraim declared just as Mateo took his first puff, music bursting loudly behind him before the door to the reception hall clicked shut. ¡°You may very well have upstaged me at my own wedding,¡± he chided, swiping Mateo¡¯s cigarette before his friend had a chance to protest.


    ¡°I thought you quit.¡±


    ¡°I did. I will. This will be my last one,¡± was Ephraim¡¯s sheepish reply. He took a long puff, inhaling deeply and savoring the sensation as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. ¡°And thus, everything is right with the world,¡± Ephraim declared, his body stiffness yielding to the elation of his nicotine high as he sunk into the pleather sofa.


    Mateo stood and wordless snatched his cigarette back, crushing it into the stone ashtray on the side table.


    ¡°I love you man,¡± he uttered with hard eyes, unfazed by the startled expression on Ephraim¡¯s face, ¡°but I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re just blind or if you simply don¡¯t want to see what¡¯s in front of you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you?¡±


    ¡°She was crying, Ephraim. Half of the wedding guests could hear her sobbing all the way from the bridal room. So, how can everything be fine?¡±


    Ephraim stood stunned. He opened his mouth to speak but he was interrupted by the blast of music that flooded into the lounge as the door to the reception hall opened once more. The two men turned to find Ellie standing at the door frame, eyeing them curiously.


    ¡°Hey kiddo,¡± Mateo grinned, and his demeanor quickly slipped to an easygoing one. ¡°You were great today. I¡¯d never seen a more perfect flower girl.¡±


    Ellie frowned and crossed her arms stiffly over her chest.


    ¡°I was a bridesmaid,¡± she grumbled.


    Mateo laughed.


    ¡°My mistake,¡± he remarked. ¡°I keep forgetting that you¡¯re not so little anymore.¡± Then turning to Ephraim, he added, ¡°Sometimes we just see what we want to see.¡±


    But Ellie wasn¡¯t one to be dismissed so easily. ¡°I¡¯m thirteen and a half,¡± she asserted, offended to be percieved as anything less.


    ¡°You certainly are, pipsqueak.¡±


    Mateo gave a short wave goodbye, and he pushed out into the cold evening, thrusting his hands into his pants pockets to keep them warm. He hadn¡¯t bothered to look in Ephraim¡¯s direction before he left, but Ephraim could still feel the anger directed his way, lingering like a bad hangover.


    ¡°¡®We¡¯re fine,¡± Ephraim whispered to no one in particular after his friend had gone. ¡°She said so herself. Just fine.¡±

 Wife

    Six days ago, their world hadn¡¯t quite collapsed. Claire hadn¡¯t fully trespassed the line delineated out in her vows, and Ephraim was still none the wiser; satisfied with his recent purchase of a 1967 Chevy Impala.


    ¡°As soon as I set my eyes on her, I knew I¡¯d met the woman of my dreams,¡± Mateo professed like an infatuated school boy. Laura, his wife of three years, had given him permission to pull money from their savings to go in on half the cost and half the ownership with Ephraim in exchange for the renovation of their master bathroom. A project Mateo had been promising to complete since they¡¯d first moved in two years ago. All he had to show for it was a stack of mossy lumber and bin full of empty beer bottles.


    The boys had been gushing about the car for days, talking endlessly about upgrades and horsepower to Ellie¡¯s annoyance. They had spent the night before drinking and planning into the morning while they waited for the seller to get back to them with their offer, using a hairbrush and a tv remote as makeshift microphones while they repeatedly sang Drive My Car off key to each other. Ellie could barely sleep. But even she couldn¡¯t help getting caught up in their excitement when the seller agreed to their price, and Mateo pulled her into his arms and spun her around the living room.


    ¡°What is it about cars that turns men into idiots?¡± Laura wondered to Claire, watching in bemusement as the boys ran into the backyard and chest-bumped each other so hard that they knocked the other to the ground.


    ¡°Who says it¡¯s only cars?¡± Claire replied, cooly sipping her ice tea.


    By noon, Gavin Keats had shown up looking for Ellie, sporting a new polo top, a clean shave, and a Jansport backpack. He was tall and lean, but not skinny, and he had a pretty face that was considered strikingly handsome by most. Gavin knew it too and bore no compulsion for modesty. If anything, he was usually overconfident. But if Gavin was hyper-aware of his good looks, then Ellie was quite the opposite. She never seemed to take notice of his appearance or his style. It was this same hyper-unawareness that drove him to work harder for her attention. And perhaps explained why he reeked of aftershave and cologne; the mixture so strong that it lingered long after he and Ellie disappeared into her bedroom.


    ¡°That must be what desperation smells like,¡± Ephraim muttered.


    The first time Gavin had come around, Ephraim and Mateo had two-teamed him in a round of badcop-badcop. Embarrassed, Ellie had dragged her brother out of the room, insisting that the two were no more than school friends. But Ephraim was unconvinced and claimed that he could smell the horndog off that boy. He¡¯d been keeping a close eye on him since.


    ¡°Those two seem awfully close now,¡± Mateo observed after Ellie and Gavin left for the library. They¡¯d been watching them get ready to leave from the back patio.


    ¡°They could be dating,¡± Laura suggested. ¡°Have they mentioned anything to you two?¡±


    ¡°Not a word,¡± Ephraimed confessed. ¡°But she doesn¡¯t tell us much these days. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised though. That little punk is always coming around.¡±


    Claire said nothing, conceding with her silence as she often did.


    Laura laughed as she got up and grabbed a twist-top beer from the cooler.


    ¡°You should probably stop calling him that. That little punk could very well become your brother-in-law.¡±


    Ephraim groaned and buried his face in his hands, and Mateo gave him a hard consolatory slap on the shoulder.


    ¡°My kid sister¡¯s being taken in by a horndog,¡± he whined.


    ¡°Sure seems like it,¡± Mateo replied, stuffing his mouth with a handful of corn nuts.


    ~X~


    By mid-afternoon, Ephraim and Mateo had loaded up the truck and dropped Lauren off at home on their way to pick up the Chevy Impala. It was only a two-and-a-half drive over and back, but the boys were looking forward to stopping at a nearby casino on their trek back. The last-minute plan was to do a bit of gambling and spend the night. And maybe get up early enough to enjoy the breakfast buffet.


    Claire was glad for the quiet.


    With Ephraim gone until tomorrow afternoon, and Ellie out for the rest of the day, Claire could get a few chores done and tuck in after a long bath and a good book. She almost never had time to herself anymore. But she was mostly relieved not to be alone with Ellie, with nothing but the awkward silence festering between them.


    Except it didn¡¯t quite work out that way.


    Claire had started the third load of laundry in the wash, careful to put her delicates in a mesh bag, and had begun folding the second load out of the dryer when she heard the slap of the screendoor echoing loudly in the house. She froze, her feet cementing to the floor beneath her as she nervously wrung the shirt in her hands.


    ¡°It¡¯s me,¡± Ellie called out as she removed her shoes and placed them on the rack in the entryway. ¡°I¡¯m back and I¡¯ll be staying home for dinner.¡±


    ~X~


    Awkward silence would have been preferable.


    Claire could not remember what had started the argument. She could not even remember who had spoken first. They had barely exchanged more than a few words since they¡¯d returned from their day trip to Sutter Woods with Ephraim and Gavin the week before. Not that anyone had noticed. Claire had been careful to never be left alone in her company, and it had not been difficult with so many visitors coming in going during that time.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    Claire searched her eyes, wondering if the girl was playing games or willfully seeking to shock her.


    "What if I am?" Ellie snapped back defiantly as she leaned forward, her chin slightly raised and her hands firmly gripping the edge of the washing machine where she sat even as her bare legs swung listlessly over the washer door.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    At almost twenty she still had the gangly arms of a pubescent girl, and a slender boyish figure that often came with youth. Her freckled, sun-kissed rosy cheeks and brilliant blue eyes were like a homage to rustic feminine beauty. She had always been this lovely, even as a child, and was made only lovelier by the messy twin braids that fell over her shoulders. The fiery hues of her hair only a shade lighter than red. But for all her loveliness, the girl walked a fine line between open hostility and sullen civility.


    Especially to her.


    "You''re not," the wife insisted, but it was a tepid reply. There was nearly a ten-year difference between them, and yet experience had not given Claire the confidence that was lacking in her voice. She seemed unconvinced of her own words when she spoke, her restless hands fidgeting with her husband''s laundered shirt. Her denial nothing more than a thin veil over her unyielding fears. Fears that had festered since that day she professed her vows before an entire congregation.


    "Well, I think you''re afraid."


    Her husband''s sister was sitting closer to the edge of the washer now, a tiny smirk curled up at the corner of her lips, the intrepid look in her eyes shimmering with something like accusation and smug satisfaction. It was the same sort of look that a seven-year-old Ellie had often reserved for her whenever the child stole away her brother''s attention from his undeserving girlfriend.


    Ellie and her anger. She clung onto it the way a newborn fastens to its mother. The remnants of a vestigial, and likely imagined betrayal long forgotten, with the same ferocity of a cornered animal. As the girlfriend, Claire understood she was an outsider. As a wife, she was constantly seeking out her patience, especially as the girl became less of a child.


    "I see right through you," a thirteen-year-old Ellie had declared away from the prying eyes of others, practically hissing her words, and her face twisted in vexation. Never mind that they were in the middle of celebrating hers and Ephraim''s engagement party. "You''re a fraud, and a phony."


    "Am I a fake too?" It had taken all of Claire''s efforts not to submit to the haughty derision simmering beneath her stilted smile.


    "You''re making fun of me."


    "Is that why you hate me so much? Because you think I''m a phony?"


    "My brother thinks you''re so perfect-"


    "I''m not perfect."


    "I know you''re not. You''re a liar." So dramatic. Her disdain was practically palpable.


    And always, always so angry.


    She was more subtle now, virulent but coy, like caustic words on rose-scented parchment. The steel of her cool blue eyes lured her into an almost fervid temptation, a path almost certainly laden with thorns.


    There was no discernable difference from the acerbic girl before her now, and the one whose lips she''d tasted just a week before. Supple lips, tart and tangy lips, the bittersweetness juxtaposed by crushing mouths, and warring truculent tongues impassioned by unspoken indignation. The moment had been fleeting, but it had left her agitated and stupefied by the evocative dissonance that swelled her thoughts.


    She was afraid, and no words would form on her lips to articulate otherwise. Her own body rejected the denial of this very fact.


    "I''m not wrong, am I?" Ellie persisted, leaning forward with ease, despite how dangerously close she was to slipping off the edge of the washer. She was near enough to touch, and Claire was left with strange nascent stirrings as Ellie reached an unprovoked hand and tugged at the hem of Claire''s shirt.


    Her first instinct was to back away, but something in her brain had shut down, and her limbs became useless and inert to her own commands. Another easy tug from Ellie, and her limbs were innervated once more, compelling her forward, and negating the space between them.


    "You''re so easy to read," her sister-in-law whispered, the heat of her breath teasing the short hairs on Claire''s neck, just below the hairline. Her ears tingled and her florid cheeks grew hot, deepening to a near ruddy red. Anger and embarrassment filled her, clenching her jaw and tensing the muscles in her arms and shoulders. It was only when she tightened her hands into trembling fists that she noticed they were now empty, and Ephraim''s shirt lay tracked on the floor, crumpled under her feet.


    "You''re such a brat, you know that?" They were the first honest words that had crossed her lips since the impulsive kiss they''d shared.


    "Is that so?" Ellie simpered, sliding a hand up Claire''s arm, tracing fingers along the veins, and stopping at the soft crease of her elbow. "Is that what you were thinking when you had your tongue in my mouth?"


    "Don''t do that," she croaked, her throat growing arid and tight.


    "Don''t do what?" Ellie replied with feigned innocence.


    "Whatever this is."


    Claire''s arms were trembling now, her fingers aching as she clenched her fists, as if the act alone would fetter her diminishing resolve.


    "And just what is it that I''m doing?" Ellie pressed on, running the tips of her fingers along the waistband of Claire''s jeans, and teasing the soft area of her stomach just above the fastened button. "Am I making you wet?"


    With those words, her mind emptied all cogent thoughts, and her impetuous hands reached for Ellie''s thighs, clasping possessively as they tugged forward, seemingly acting independent of her own intentions. But she wanted Ellie''s legs sealed around her hips, and her body pressed against her own. Ellie seemed to want it too. There wasn''t a vestige of hesitation when she coiled her legs around Claire''s waist and clasped her fingers on her bare shoulders.


    Conjoined as they were from the waist up, their lips remained just breaths apart. Ellie''s contentious eyes locked with hers, her gaze suffused with an efflorescent charge, enthralling and licentious, and baiting her to submit to the very thing Claire had wanted to avoid.


    And she did.


    Their lips came together, drawn in by the gravitational pull of their incensed bodies. Claire''s hands shifted up Ellie''s thighs, curving along the rounded cheeks of her backside, flexing her tremulous fingers on the firm flesh as her tongue sought out the deepest places of Ellie''s mouth. Her tongue pressed deeper still, twisting and curling around Ellie''s, siphoning a soft groan of ecstasy. She was dimly aware of the hardened nipples teasing her own, just two thin layers away from skin to skin contact. And her shoulders aching; a soft gasp escaping her as Ellie''s hands clawed impatiently, digging fingernails into soft bare skin.


    The laundry room swelled with sounds of their wet lips coming together and apart; moist smacks of tongues and mouths, and the rustle of fabric tousled by restless hands. In their frenzy, the struggle for air became unbearable, and their earnest lips eased into soft, languid kisses.


    Ellie''s arms draped over Claire''s shoulders, her fingers caressing the wisps of hairs along the nape of her neck, enclosing her in a tender embrace. Their eyes fluttered open just enough to remain entranced, but their breaths grew strained as hips stirred, rocking in slow, rousing rhythms, and igniting a deeper longing. It was easy enough to ignore at first, but the tempo of their hips deepened, sweeping her into an aching sweetness of heady intoxication. Within moments, her sex spasmed, and she tensed, pulling Ellie flush against her, her hands clutching and trembling as she buried her face in Ellie''s sweat-glistened neck.


    "I''m a terrible person, aren''t I?" Claire rasped above a whisper, nearing tears, and reluctant to pull away. Unable to face the look of contempt awaiting her even as she wondered why those scornful blue eyes made her so weak.


    "The worst," Ellie asserted cruelly, still struggling to catch her breath, but making no effort to pull out of their embrace. And then in a strangled voice she uttered, "But so am I."

 Lover

    Three Weeks Ago


    "Just what is it that you think you''ll find?" He asked her in arrant indifference, more for the sake of asking than for the need of any actual reply. If she noticed, she didn''t show it.


    "Keep the light steady," she uttered absently, a drop of sweat trickling down her forehead and catching on her brow as she tightened the final nut on the telescope. He inched the flashlight closer, his attentions suddenly arrested by the provocative luminescence of her face and the soft breeze that fluttered strands of her hair over her eyes.


    "I don''t know," she answered, her response so delayed that he''d already forgotten the question. "Maybe nothing, possibly everything."


    ~X~


    She used to count the stars, lying supine on the flat roof that extended beyond her bedroom window. It was forbidden to her, and she had endured more than a few scoldings for stealing off onto the rooftop, but she was undaunted; determined to find her answers in the infinite night sky. The child always began her count from Polaris, making her way along the handle of the little dipper, then down to the saucepan of its more prominent twin, tracing a path from one asterism to the next.


    Ephraim had taught her all about the stars as they lay side by side on that rooftop, spinning tales about the sparkling clusters that Ellie would never find in any constellation book. Within those stories he planted seedlings of magic and destiny, and from them sprouted a longing for love. The kind of love that drove people to hell and back and condemned star-crossed lovers to the eternity of the night sky, their passions burning on that dark canvass like a whispered secret.


    And Claire had gleamed much like those stars.


    The first time they met, Ellie hid behind her brother''s muscled back, clutching his shirt as she peered shyly at the girl with the silvery blonde hair and the shimmering azure eyes. Her studded earrings and silver bracelets glittered in the sunlight, and it appeared as if a soft white glow sheened off her fair skin.


    She was Ephraim''s classmate back then, long before words like girlfriend and wife had painted them into little corners. And Ellie was the guarded little sister who only knew to impose herself on the generosity of her doting brother.


    "You have such pretty hair," the older pretty girl told her, a honey sweet smile on her lips. "Braids really suit you."


    Ellie pulled harder on Ephraim''s shirt; her small timid hands hidden inside the long sleeves of her sweater. A blush spread feverishly over her cheeks.


    Ephraim laughed and gently pried her out from hiding.


    "It''s okay, shorty. She doesn''t bite."


    But Ellie did bite.


    Ellie was only seven, but she could already see the look in her brother''s eyes, basking in the reverie of the pretty girl''s stardust.


    "Y-you''re ugly!" The child sputtered loudly at the girl, once again bolting to the safety of her brother''s broad back.


    Ellie glared at her, her crinkled brows turning white, but the child''s jealousy perished under the guilt ignited by the resilient smile that never left the girl''s lovely face. She wondered if anyone could truly be so kind.


    The Claire that she came to know over the years was still personified by that warm, subdued smile. A smile that for all intents, portrayed a pleasing and affable girl, as radiant as a dying star.


    "Want a beer?" Gavin asked, tossing the flashlight onto the ground as Ellie rose and dusted grass off her knees. She handed him the nut wretch, practically slapping it in the palm of his hand.


    "My brother''s gonna kick your ass if you keep stealing his beers," she warned with a disapproving frown. But then added, "I''ll grab us a couple," before she disappeared back into the house.Stolen novel; please report.


    She hadn''t expected the sound of hushed voices or the rustle of fabric when she traipsed her way through the kitchen, pausing mid-step with two sweaty, cold beers in her hands as the voices echoed off the walls of the darkened hallway. A small light flicked on, and two shadows inched their way through the long entryway, refracting as they emerged into the open area of the adjacent living room.


    Ellie froze.


    "We really shouldn''t do this here," Claire gasped, barely managing to speak between Ephraim''s unending assault of kisses. His large calloused hands enveloped her hips and pulled them firmly against his own, his mouth devouring hers like a starved orphan, unable to satiate his greed.


    "Oh, come on, babe," Ephraim whined and silenced her before she could protest further, dipping his tongue deeper into her mouth even as he tugged at the buttons on her blouse, slowly popping one after the other. "Just for a little bit."


    Ellie watched them from her blackened corner of the kitchen, the stillness of her eyes like the tranquil sea, but the hues of her irises were droplets of petulant oceans, darkening and unforgiving. She was keenly aware of the cold beers in her hands, numbing her fingers and dripping tiny puddles onto the polished wood floors. Every muscle in her body stiffened in her petrified repose. Still, she wouldn''t move.


    "Your sister could be home any minute now," Claire breathlessly replied, thinly masking the ire teeming from her voice. She pushed him away, brusquely shedding his embrace, but as she turned away, he captured her from behind, his arms harnessed over her chest like a straitjacket.


    "She''s probably out with Gavin," Ephraim persisted, tracing his lips along her neckline, and teasing a hand across her taut stomach, his fingers slipping under the lacy fabric of his wife''s brassiere. She flinched.


    "What''s taking you so long with those beers?" Gavin obnoxiously projected into the house, loudly pushing the backdoor wide open and flicking on the kitchen light.


    "Why are you just standing there?" He was quick to notice the condensation dripping down the beer bottles, and the deer-in-headlights look on Ellie''s face, but it was clear from his perplexed eyes that he had not seen Ephraim and Claire.


    Ellie didn''t turn around right away. The moment the lights flooded the kitchen, her eyes had connected with Claire''s. And for a fleeting moment, she glimpsed the girl who had cried endlessly on the night of her engagement, and whose tears had shimmered like silver droplets as her sobs swelled through the church halls outside her bridal room.


    She had never hated her more than she had back then.


    "Oh, Jeez!" Ephraim cried out and he and Claire quickly scrambled to compose themselves. Claire moved behind him, stealing one more look at Ellie, and concealing her reddening face as she clasped her buttons. Ellie had not been blind to Gavin''s unabashed stare at her brother''s wife, a stare he''d held a few seconds too long, and she was certain Ephraim had also noticed. His eyes had hardened as he sized him up.


    It was only after Gavin excused himself and hurried back outside that Ellie realized he''d liberated the beers from her hands.


    "Those better not be my beers!" Ephraim shouted after Gavin as he swiped his cap from the kitchen counter and ran after him. Then it was just Ellie and Claire, and the awkward silence while Claire finished clasping the buttons on her shirt.


    ~X~


    "Can you get a good look at the north star with your new telescope?" Claire had her arms folded over her chest, her eyes searching the night sky for Polaris. Ellie looked up from the eyepiece, regarding her sister-in-law with wonder. The moonlight sheened off her silvery blonde hair, suffusing her lovely face in a warm, effulgent glow.


    "It''s too far," she replied, trying not to stare. "But I can see the rings of Saturn with it."


    "Really?" Claire sounded like an eager child. The energetic timbre of her voice sent a tiny tremor down Ellie''s spine, and she was overcome by a nauseating, fluttery tingle.


    "I can show it to you if you like."


    Claire looked uncertain. Even at her most inoffensive, Ellie always seemed to teeter on the cusp of provocation, set off by the most innocuous of things.


    "Do I just look through it?"


    Ellie moved aside. "Go ahead. Just don''t touch it." She didn''t mean to stare so long into her eyes, or take notice of the supple curves of her hips and her long ivory legs. She tore her gaze away, anger silently beginning to swell in her chest.


    Claire rounded the large telescope and leaned her head forward, peering through the eyepiece. There was a warmth that was not there before, diffusing from the softness in her eyes; a warmth that rarely materialized in the presence of her husband. The smile that tinged her lips and kindled her eyes were like a betrayal. Whispering the secret that Ellie had always known.


    The woman that stood before her, the girl with the shimmering blonde hair, and the azure eyes, swimming in waves of sorrow beneath the radiance of that smile, was not in love with Ellie''s brother. Ephraim could never see it. He''d stopped counting the stars a long time ago, too busy with girls and football for anything else to matter. But Ellie could see it, and she hated her for it.


    Her hatred was much like a curse prescribed by the stars; authored by a cruel and whimsical universe intent on dramatic irony. Ellie, who sought her answers in the celestial sky, who longed for the magic of stardust, and the promise of love, was only just beginning to understand that Polaris was not a glittering distant star, but a girl; a tragic and lonely, stupid girl who did not know the first thing about love.


    "I can see why you like the stars so much," Claire uttered, a yearning weighing down her words. "Up this close, they are beyond compare."


    And she was.

 Trespass

    The picnic was Ephraim''s idea, but Ellie had been the one to suggest the clearing in Sutter woods near the old fishing pond. It was a short enough hike from the parking lot, and a cool breeze had swept over the hills, making it a pleasant sort of sunny weather. They should have all been making their way to that clearing together, but the Ephraim and Gavin had forgotten to pack the chips and sandwiches, so they dropped the girls off at the edge of the woods to hurry back for the food. Claire suspected that Ephraim was also eager to fly his rebuilt vintage Mustang down the narrow curves of the hillside without her constantly in his ear, hissing at him to slow down at every turn.


    "I guess I''ll take the lead," Ellie begrudgingly declared, grabbing one end of the ice cooler, waiting for Claire to take the other as she looked on with indolent eyes. Completely befitting of an irritable teenager.


    "You know the way from here?"


    "Of course, I do. I come here all the time on the weekends."


    "Are you sure that''s such a good idea?" Claire probed, unable to mask the criticism in her voice. She''d heard the infamous stories of Sutter woods when she was still in high school. Teens drinking and skinny dipping in the pond, vomiting from the top of the water tower, parking after hours in the old parking lot overlooking the town. Plenty of girls had lost their v card in that old lot. "I don''t think your brother would approve of you and Gavin out here all by yourselves."


    "I come out here with my astronomy club," Ellie indignantly replied.


    "Oh. I just thought-"


    "I know what you thought."


    "It''s not so far-fetched to assume it would be with your boyfriend."


    "Well, he''s not."


    "What?"


    "Gavin. He''s not my boyfriend."


    "You two are always together, so I just assumed-"


    "You''ve been doing a lot of that lately," Ellie cut her off, suddenly hastening her pace, faster than Claire could hope to keep up.


    "Ellie, hold on. Can you please slow down? Please?" The plastic handle of the heavy ice cooler bit into her aching, clenched hands, cutting off the circulation to her fingers. She slowed to a pause as they descended the steep slope to the green grassy clearing, but before she could set down her end, Ellie wordlessly jerked it onward, rattling the bottles of beer that filled the cooler.


    Claire lurched forward, tightening her grip, and nearly skidding her way to the bottom.


    "Was that really necessary?" She huffed angrily as soon as they came to a stop, a light sheen of perspiration dampening her face.


    "Well that''s rare," Ellie remarked, staring at Claire with mock curiosity.


    "What is?"


    "I didn''t realize it was possible for the ice queen to get all hot and bothered."


    Claire clenched her jaw, biting back her tart reply, and hoped the boys wouldn''t take too long to return. Five minutes alone with the brat, and she already wanted to slap her.


    "We should set up the picnic here," she finally spoke, choosing to ignore Ellie. "I brought matches and lighter fluid for a fire, but we should probably split up and gather some wood."


    And just maybe I won''t be tempted to strangle her.


    ~X~


    Claire was nowhere to be seen when Ellie returned, sweaty and carrying an armful of dried twigs and branches for the campfire. It didn''t appear as if Gavin and Ephraim had returned either, but she spied a couple of opened beer bottles on the cooler. Miss Ice Queen probably got bored and helped herself, Ellie figured, picking up a half empty bottle with her free hand and taking a long sip. There was a slight peachy taste on her lips when she withdrew it, and Ellie remembered the peach flavored lip gloss she had given to Claire for her birthday last year. It was a cheap thing she''d picked up from the clearance bins at the mall, an afterthought of a gift. The look on Claire''s face when she''d unwrapped it instantly told Ellie that her sister-in-law knew what little thought she''d put into it, and Ellie always figured Claire had thrown it away.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Ellie bit down on her lip, fighting back the remorse that pestered her thoughts over their last encounter.


    She''s the one who was asking for it.


    "Claire?" She called out as she set down the beer and wandered to the edge of the clearing. "Where''d you go?"


    It didn''t take long to find her. She was resting on the soft, grassy curve of a small hill, under the shadow of a red maple, in a bed of white clovers. Her hair lay sprawled in waves over fallen leaves, with just enough sunlight peering through the tree branches to cast shimmers of gold through her fair locks.


    She could have been a painting in that pose.


    Like something out of a dream.


    Ellie set down the branches on the small pile that Claire had gathered and walked over to where she lay without uttering a sound, pausing to kneel over her sleeping form. Despite being awake, Ellie''s actions were dictated by the trance-like dream that had overtaken her the moment she had caught sight of Claire. The lovely and lonely girl that often haunted her dreams.


    In that moment, Ellie was much like the seven-year-old child who had first laid eyes on stardust, made manifest in the girl that laid before her. She reached hesitantly for her, pulling her hand away when she got too close, and briefly wondered if stardust burned hot or cold to the touch.


    "Every princess needs a crown," Ellie remembered her mother often telling her, long before she grew too ill to look after her and Ephraim. Each time, her mother would fashion a flowery crown, strung together with white clovers, and fasten it into Ellie''s hair.


    Wordlessly, Ellie plucked a white clover from the grass and carefully fixed the stem into the billowing locks of stardust, hoping that Claire would not wake. When she did not stir, Ellie fastened another in her hair, then another, slowly weaving Claire''s silvery blonde tresses with a flowery crown over her bangs. Once she wended the last white clover into her locks, Ellie''s body was gripped by an instinctive compulsion.


    "Claire," Ellie whispered, leaning in as Claire slowly stirred awake. Her lashes fluttered open and her sleepy eyes peered up, still insufficiently awake to make sense of the softness in Ellie''s eyes. Claire was only beginning to gather her senses when Ellie reached for a small tendril of hair and gently pushed it away from the sleepy woman''s forehead. Her fingers lingered, softly caressing the contours of Claire''s face, and for the first time since she''d known her, Claire saw a beautiful untamed creature. And she was drawn to her.


    The years of distance between them diminished into nothing as Ellie drew in closer, gently tilting Claire''s chin up, and stealing her lips for the very first time. It was tentative at first, lips on lips, soft and fluttery. But Ellie pressed deeper, seeking out the wetness of Claire''s mouth, suckling on her timid tongue, until she pried an unchaste whimper from her ravaged lips.


    "Do you understand now?" Ellie whispered, the heat of her breath teasing Claire''s aroused flesh. "Why Gavin could never be my boyfriend?"


    Claire opened her mouth to speak, but she was too stunned by realization to formulate a reply. But her body could still respond, and she reached for her this time, teasing her fingers along the curve of Ellie''s ear, fluttering them down her neck, then gently tugging at her braids and pulling her in for a second kiss. Even as Ellie had her pinned down, it was Claire who was taking, deepening, and seeking respite in their embrace. It was only when they heard the distant voices of Gavin and Ephraim approaching from beyond the clearing that they finally pulled away.


    And she was swallowed up by guilt, headfirst.


    "Is there something going on between you two?" Ephraim asked Claire after they finished their sandwiches. They were watching Ellie and Gavin bicker as they struggled to set up the bonfire. Just days ago, they''d all been gathered in the backyard looking up at the stars, Ellie and Gavin arguing over the telescope; a moment that resonated much like today. But the world had changed since that day. Or perhaps it was only Claire who had changed, and the world remained as it always was.


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean you and Ellie."


    Claire tensed and nearly forgot how to breathe, expecting the ground to open up beneath her feet.


    "Why would you think something is going on?" She asked, forcing a laugh.


    "You''ve barely spoken a word to each other," he insisted with accusing eyes. "Don''t think I haven''t noticed. What''s the fight about this time?"


    "It''s nothing, really," Claire said unconvincingly, too relieved to bother dissuading him.


    "Sure, it is," he replied with a playful glare, and she couldn''t have felt worse.


    That evening, as they reminisced and melted marshmallows under the dying sky, Claire lost herself more than once in Ellie''s intrepid eyes, falling deeper into a lie that she could not control.


    "So, your sister hates your wife," Gavin drunkenly whispered to an equally inebriated Ephraim, loud enough for Claire and Ellie to hear. "There are worse things in life than that."


    The girls looked away. Claire explored the stars with Ephraim, and listened quietly as he invented stories about each constellation they found, and Ellie took Gavin for a stroll in the woods. Their eyes did not meet for the rest of the night.

 Stardust

    Ellie couldn''t sleep after they returned home that night. Even after her hot shower, she remained restless and unsettled, and could not wash away the guilt that continued to wrack her with every recollection of their shared kiss.


    It was the lies she hated the most. Intricate webs spun like a canvass, concealed beneath brush strokes of picturesque landscapes. Ellie could not forget the first time she saw the truth, and the anger it bore inside her. She did not bother with reasons or excuses. Lies, she concluded, were black and white, and no amount of wasted breath could ever forgive them.


    As simple as it was, her brother couldn''t see the lies for what they were, and Ellie often wondered if he couldn''t or if he simply wouldn''t. Claire had been a beautiful lie that swept into their lives so early on that she had taken on all appearances of truth over time. Perhaps he was too close and was blinded by it.


    But Ellie saw it. And her stubbornness refused to let it die. Lies were black and white, after all, and there could never be any room for compromise or half-truths.


    Until that kiss.


    Her actions could only have been a lie. A fabrication born from boredom or anger, or maybe from a moment of insanity. It was an empty kiss, she reasoned. Completely without substance. And her own physical response had been nothing more than an automated chemical reaction to it. Yet, the more she reasoned, the harder it became to see where the black and white lines were drawn.


    The world was no longer divided into binary colors, and Ellie wondered when her world began to change. Looking up into the starry sky from her opened bedroom window, she lingered on a memory from years ago; one that whispered her lies to the stars.


    ~X~


    Ellie watched her from across the crowded room with the eyes of a petulant teenager. Her lips curled in a decided frown as she bit the inside of her cheek, unable to look away. Streamers and confetti burst and fluttered in the air like gleaming silver snowflakes around her, seemingly floating as they slowly fell to the floor. Drunken party-goers hollered and cheered while the obnoxious shrill of squawkers resounded over Bing Crosby''s rendition of Auld Lang Syne, but a distracted Ellie could still make out the faint ping sound of champagne glasses clinking together as others toasted to the new year.


    And still, she could not tear her eyes away.


    Stardust. The word came to her like a soft whisper, resonating in her thoughts, billowing through her like a bundle of nerves, defiant of her own hostility.


    She wondered about the first time she laid eyes on Claire; the pretty girl with shimmering azure eyes who''d stolen away her big brother''s heart, and with it all of Ephraim''s attention. With a softness and a glow too demure to compare to the blinding candor of the sun. Claire was more like the moon, her light drawn in by the shadows of unspoken things, things that Ellie had decided should not be forgiven. But, in the beginning, she was like stardust; and Ellie glimpsed a vestigial flicker of that starlight in her once again.


    And it was maddening.


    I must be crazy, Ellie surmised. I''d have to be.Stolen story; please report.


    Every breath, every gesture, down to the innocuous flutter of her eyelashes, was like a spring of stars, and Ellie was drawn in, and all her anger with it.


    Claire smiled up at Ephraim as he approached, pressing her hand on his scruffy cheek as he leaned down to take her lips. His hand covered hers and their wedding bands kissed. Ellie clenched her jaw, and the crease lines in her frown grew deeper. That feeling came back to her, strange and unknown, it knotted itself in her chest almost painfully as she looked on.


    Appearing behind her, Gavin leaned forward and uttered something into Ellie''s ear. She could feel the heat of his breath but his words were lost in the noise that rattled around them, and she mindlessly nodded a reply without bothering to meet his eyes. He startled her by pressing a cold champagne glass into her hand, grinning slyly as she turned to face him with quizzical eyes. Raising a flirtatious brow, he gave her a quick peek of the liquor bottle he''d confiscated into his letterman jacket before zipping it up again.


    "For later," he told her, and although Ellie still couldn''t hear him, she could read the words on his lips. She could also imagine the kind of trouble they were bound for if her brother caught them sneaking drinks. Ephraim was not so flexible with underage drinking, especially when it involved his sixteen-year-old sister.


    Stealing another look across the room, Ellie cringed at the way Claire slid her arms around Ephraim''s neck as he drew her onto the dance floor, swaying cheek to cheek. He must have said something funny because she tilted her head back in laughter.


    A soft and musical laugh, Ellie imagined sourly. As fake as everything else about her.


    Silently, and with deep breaths, Ellie whispered untruths, hoping to lay her wayward madness to rest. But she could not deny the stardust, and the gravitational pull that left her wanting and empty. An emptiness that demanded her attention, possibly at the bottom of several shot glasses by the end of the night. Watching them kiss once more, it struck her that later couldn''t arrive fast enough. That nameless and invisible knot fastened tighter around her chest, and the ache expanded, throbbing and bursting as something inside her shattered into endless bits of shimmering shards.


    Just like stardust.


    ~X~


    So, your sister hates your wife. There are worse things in life than that.


    In the weeks that followed since that day at Sutter woods, Ellie learned just how worse things could get. It came with a shortness of breath, and prickles on the back of her neck whenever Claire shared the same air as her. Something had changed. There was a spark in the air between them, ions and atoms colliding without reprieve. And for weeks, it had been unbearable.


    She wasn''t sixteen anymore, but she wasn''t quite an adult either. Legally, she could vote but she couldn''t drink. She worked part time while attending her second year of college, but she still lived at home and had never paid a month''s rent. She had her own car, but her brother covered her insurance; her phone bill was discounted on their family plan. In the ways that were most apparent, Ellie was still a child, down to her twin braided hair and rhinestone decorated book bag. But the same something that had set change in motion had also taken its hold on her, unraveling her from within and remaking her anew.


    Change took the shape of desires and expression, and a night came when Ellie took those desires and shaped them into words and soft sighs. Claire should not have been so surprised when it happened.


    Ellie had her pinned beneath her. Silvery blonde hair spilled in waves over the plush carpet, disheveled and messy in beautiful disarray. Claire''s lips, full and swollen, flushed a bright red. And her eyes were quite wide, even as she struggled to catch her breath.


    There had been words. Reckless words. Somehow, they had emerged from Ellie''s mouth, taking shape as their lips met. She had not realized she had spoken them, not until she pulled away and saw them take form in Claire''s startled eyes. She couldn''t imagine why she''d uttered them. Lips easily told untruths.


    But the words, as reckless and unexpected as they were, did not feel like a lie. And it scared her.


    Ellie trembled, seized by the knot in her chest, the aching throb that finally had a name. It should have come to her as no surprise, but its truth impaled her with realization. And she knew there would be no turning back when Claire whispered them back, her lips grazing along the length of her neck before Ellie stole her breath with another kiss.

 Beginnings

    Ephraim didn''t want to go to the funeral. Funerals were always a dreary affair, full of awkward lulls in conversation and uncontrollable sobbing. Not that he ever expected it to be any different, he just didn''t want to have to go to one for a pair of near strangers. The Aarons had been friends of his parents, and although he''d met them a few times over the years, Ephraim had spoken no more than a few words to them. And yet there he was, dressed in his Sunday best in a house full of mournful strangers, wishing he was at the mall with his best friend, Mateo and Mateo''s twin sister, Micah.


    "I don''t see why I have to go," Ephraim had complained to his parents that morning. "Ellie doesn''t."


    "Ellie''s four, you''re not," had been his mother''s silencing reply.


    At thirteen, nothing was more important to Ephraim than hanging out with his friends, sneaking playboys from his uncle''s bedroom, and stealing off with the occasional beer from the fridge when he was alone in the house. Without anything to look forward to, the best he could hope for was a plate full of carbs from five different casseroles, and a quiet corner where he could eat his food in peace. He was in the process of stuffing his pockets with dinner rolls when he saw her through a half-opened door in an adjoining room.


    The girl couldn''t have been any older than Ephraim. Pale blonde hair and shimmering blue eyes, she was the kind of pretty that took his breath away. But for all her beauty, her face was quite severe. As if someone had shot her dog, he''d thought. Then realizing that she was the same girl from the Aarons¡¯ family portrait near the entryway, Ephraim mentally kicked himself. Or maybe because her parents just died.


    The blue-eyed girl clutched a rosary in her hand and whispered softly into the beads. Ephraim set down his plate and crept closer to the half-opened door. His curiosity drew him forward like a moth to the flame. As he grew near, he could see further into the room. The walls within appeared to be glass, and there were several dozen white fold-up chairs arranged in rows, and white lilies on standing sprays next to two mahogany caskets. Ephraim''s breath caught in his throat as his eyes intruded on a clearly private moment. Just as he inched closer still, a tall and brusque man in a white and black military uniform stepped out in front of him and abruptly closed the door.


    "Best you move along, son," the man uttered firmly. Ephraim could only nod as the man ushered him away.


    ~X~


    He didn''t see the girl during the funeral.


    Ephraim looked for her among the crowd of people that piled into the room with the caskets once the service began. It was a larger space than he''d first glimpsed, and it was mostly enclosed by slanted glass walls. Several people got up to speak before the open casket viewing. Each one had their own story of the Aarons, and by the end of each retelling, the eyes in the room were noticeably wetter and faces more flushed and crumpled with grief.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Ephraim chose not to join his parents in line for the viewing. His morbid curiosity was eager for a glimpse at the bodies, but he was not willing to risk a night''s sleep haunted by the Aarons. Instead, he got up and wandered the many rooms of the large house, hoping he might catch another glance of the pretty blue-eyed girl. But all he found were empty rooms and a glare from the uniformed man he''d met earlier. Ephraim gave up and slipped out into the backyard, cursing softly under his breath. That''s when he saw her again, sitting listlessly on a swing beneath a blossoming dogwood tree.


    He considered calling out to her, but he didn''t know her name and he figured that calling out "Hey, you," to a girl who had just lost her parents would make him seem like a douche.


    Quietly, without so much as a word, he walked over and took the swing beside hers. Glancing briefly at the girl, Ephraim pulled the swing behind him and took a few steps back before he prepared to launch himself forward on the swing. The girl turned his way, looking startled and mouth half-open as if she had something to say, but didn''t. Then with a slight hop, Ephraim pulled himself onto the swing and propelled forward, only vaguely aware of the girl''s voice as she jumped to her feet and called out behind him.


    Ephraim turned his head back but couldn''t hear the girl over the loud crack from overhead. Just as his body was swinging forward, the branch holding up the swing came crashing down and Ephraim felt the pull of gravity on his back, slamming him hard into the ground.


    "Are you okay?" The girl asked, standing over him.


    Ephraim groaned and tried to sit up, only to rest himself flat on his back again.


    "I don''t know," he replied, wincing. "Maybe. But I think I broke my ass."


    It wasn''t meant to be funny. In fact, his backside hurt like hell, but the blonde-haired girl with the sad blue eyes that stood over him had cracked a small smile. It was just a slight upturn of her mouth, yet there was a vibrance around her that invited him in.


    "You dropped your dinner rolls," she pointed out as she leaned over to pick one up. The other two rolls had rolled down into a nearby flower bed.


    The girl held the roll out to Ephraim, but he just shook his head. She dropped the roll and offered him her free hand instead.


    Not bothering to move, Ephraim sighed and closed his eyes.


    "I''m sorry," he uttered remorsefully.


    "It''s just bread."


    Her voice was soft and wispy like the wind, and there was kindness in it that only served to make him feel worse.


    "Not that," he replied, opening his eyes. He was startled to find her crouched beside him, and he quickly pushed himself up to her eye level. "The tree. I''m sorry for breaking it; I wasn''t thinking. I shouldn''t have come over. You probably just want to be left alone."


    Ephraim pushed himself up to his feet and dusted off his pants and his dress jacket. He motioned to leave when the girl took him by the hand.


    "Please don''t go," she implored earnestly. "You have kind eyes, and I think I need that right now."


    Ephraim nodded and let her lead him into the gardens. It felt like the beginning of something. He was on a new path now, strung along by a pretty girl whose name he did not yet know. But maybe she saw something in him too, something worthwhile; all he had to do was follow.

 Bound

    By their senior year of high school, Ephraim knew that Claire was the one for him. They were Ephraim and Claire. Claire and Ephraim. It was never one without the other. His family had already become entwined with hers. Claire and her uncle Daniel had spent the last two Thanksgivings and Christmases at the Bradshaw¡¯s'', and they had cemented plans for a joint graduation celebration. There had been shared summer vacations, and except for his kid sister, his parents had already embraced Claire as one of their own. Not that Ephraim hadn''t tried some coaxing with Ellie.


    "Come on, Ellie. Be nice. Don''t you want a big sister?"


    "She''s not my sister!"


    The Bradshaws were just as present at Claire''s piano recitals as they were at Ephraim''s football games and Ellie''s school plays. His mother even had a disc of "Claire''s Greatest Hits" alongside his and Ellie''s performances. And as much as Ellie seemed to resist Claire''s warmth and affection, she had fallen asleep in Claire''s arms during one of Ephraim''s games on more than a few occasions. For all her bravado, Ephraim knew that deep down, Ellie loved Claire just as much as their parents did.


    It only reaffirmed what he knew to be true. He and Claire were perfect for each other. And even his parents could see it. He''d overheard them say nearly as much on the night of the homecoming game.


    They''d all piled into the family sedan after the game; Ephraim, Ellie, and Claire squeezed into the back seat, with little Ellie wedged between them. Micah had been visibly disappointed when Ephraim told her he wouldn''t be going to the house party that night. His shoulder was bruised and swollen from the last tackle by a towering linebacker from the opposing team, and all he wanted to do was pass out on his bed until morning. He got no complaints from Claire. She never wanted to go in the first place. Micah had no warm feelings of friendship for Claire, and the feeling was mutual.


    "You''re so lame, bro. Just remember to bring your sorry ass to the lake tomorrow."


    Mateo, ever the wordsmith, was always one to shift in the direction of the wind.


    "Are you sure you don''t want to go?" Claire had whispered over Ellie''s sleeping head as the car pulled out of the school''s parking lot. Just moments after being buckled into place, Ellie''s head had tilted down against her own chest, collapsing into sleep after being up so long past her bedtime.


    "Nah, we''re not missing out on anything," he whispered back.


    "You don''t have to skip out on fun just because I''m not going."


    "I''m having fun with you right now."


    "Lies," she scoffed softly. "You''re practically falling asleep."


    "Yeah, that too."


    By the time they hit the freeway, Claire''s eyes were already closed, and Ephraim was only beginning to drift away, exhaustion weighing his eyelids down. Sleep had already claimed him when the distinct soft click of the radio jarred him awake; Closing his eyes, he heard his parents whispering in the front seat.


    "It would be perfect if they ended up together, don''t you think?" his mother had uttered to his father as he steered, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of him. "I think Abel and Isa would be happy knowing that their little girl was not alone. She has Daniel, but he''s a bachelor, and he''s got no other kin. That girl needs more family."


    Ephraim hadn''t heard his father''s reply, but from his intonation he seemed to be agreeing. When he opened his eyes and turned to look at Claire, he could see that she was awake, and she''d heard it too. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and he wondered if maybe, she was finally beginning to see it. Their eyes met and he smiled. She seemed to be embarrassed as she looked away.


    In the days that followed Ephraim couldn''t help but wonder why they weren''t together yet after all this time. He liked her. More than liked her. He''d been in love with her for years, and she must''ve known that. They''d gone to Junior Prom together the year before, and Claire had asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance just last week. There wasn''t anything they didn''t do together. Everyone else could see it too.


    "It''s so sickening how you two are always attached at the hip," Micah had remarked after Ephraim declined her invitation to their school dance, informing her that he and Claire were already going together.


    "What''s your problem?"


    "You are. It''s like you''re standing so close that you can''t even see the big picture, and it pisses me off. Jesus! You don''t even know..."


    He caught a slight quiver in her voice as her words trailed off. Micah had never looked so stricken with anger, shaking as she was, and Ephraim never did figure out why. Not that it mattered. All he saw was the dream; a white picket fence and his pretty blue-eyed girl waiting for him at the gate, heart in hand, as he pulled up the drive. Not once did that dream include Mateo''s insecure and overbearing sister, or any other girl for that matter.


    The world was his for the taking; local golden boy, privileged with looks, athleticism, and just enough book smarts to earn him the esteem of his teachers and fellow classmates, especially the girls. He never imagined how easily it could all go up in smoke.


    ~X~


    "What are you talking about? She''s not like that, man."


    Ephraim wanted to take a swing at Mateo. His friend''s words were like a kick to the teeth, one that he was not expecting. It was not like his friend to run his mouth off with lies, but what he''d said had been so utterly insane that a lie was the only thing it could possibly be. Clenching his fists, he walked off before Mateo could say another word, but his best friend was persistent and quickly fell into step beside him.


    "Look Ephraim, I''m telling you what I saw. I wouldn''t joke about this." Mateo insisted solemnly.Stolen novel; please report.


    Ephraim laughed, shaking his head as he came to a stop.


    "Oh, please. You''re honestly telling me that you happened to be in the girl''s locker room?" Ephraim replied, thrusting his index finger into Mateo''s chest. "Now you''re a perv that gets off on secretly watching our friends undress for P.E.?" Mateo''s eyes wavered at the implication, and he looked away.


    "I knew you were messing with me," Ephraim went on. "It''s such an obvious lie."


    "Fine, I lied," Mateo admitted, throwing up his hands. "I was never in the girl''s locker room, and I didn''t see a damn thing. But that doesn''t mean it isn''t true."


    "You know, you''re really starting to piss me off." Ephraim peered in Mateo''s face, as if searching him for answers. "Micah put you up to this, didn''t she?" He finally surmised. "She put this asinine idea in your head about Claire just because I wouldn''t go to the dance with her as her consolation date."


    He paused, waiting for Mateo to confirm his conclusion, but when his friend didn''t respond, Ephraim drove his point home by adding, "You know I''m right."


    Mateo sighed. "You have such a big head sometimes. That''s why I wanted it to come from me, ¡®cuz I knew you were never gonna believe her. But she saw them. And that gossip, Jasmine, saw it too. It probably won''t be long before the rest of the school gets wind of it."


    This time it was Mateo''s turn to leave. Flipping his backpack over his shoulder, Mateo walked off to his next class, but Ephraim couldn''t move. His legs were fixed to the ground, bound like a bronze statue. He wasn''t sure what to believe anymore, but it felt like his dream was ending.


    ~X~


    Ephraim could have let her go. There''s a lot of things he could have done, but he was seventeen and his small and fragile world revolved around him. Selflessness would not come to define him for another ten years, so he clung on, kicking and screaming like the child that he still was. From the moment that Claire first took his hand four years ago, Ephraim had begun to map out their future together. He could see it as clearly as the constellations in the sky. His future was the night canvass, and Claire was his North Star. And nothing would convince him otherwise, not even her.


    He had expected her to deny it and expose it for the lie that he had hoped it to be. But as soon as he spilled what Mateo had told him, Claire crumbled. The wild alarm in her eyes, and the guilt exuding from her like smoke from an invisible fire spoke volumes.


    "You''re not like that! You can''t be!" he bellowed, and she winced. Momentarily stricken by how small she seemed, he drew back his voice. "It would ruin everything." he went on. "With us. With our families."


    "I''m not trying to hurt anyone-"


    "But you are!" he cut her off. "My parents love you. You''re already family to them and you''re wrecking it!"


    "I don''t mean to. I love them. And you. You''re everything to me. You know that. Your family means the world to me."


    "But you don''t love love me, do you? Like someone you want to be with."


    Claire opened her mouth to speak, but the sorrow in her eyes gave him her answer.


    "Do this and it all ends," he said before she could respond. "You, me. Our families. We''re done."


    He was hurting her, and he knew it too. He could see it in her eyes. But she needed to understand what she was costing them.


    "You can''t mean that," she uttered, reaching for his arm.


    Ephraim pulled away and took a step back.


    "You have to choose," he insisted. "It''s all or nothing. You can''t have it both ways," Ephraim''s voice cracked and his eyes stung. He was breaking. His anger and resentment had been enough to hold him together, but as those feelings left him, only the pain of losing her remained.


    "I''ve loved you," he confessed, his voice shaking now. "You must know that. And I still love you, but I can''t have you in my life if you can''t love me back. So you have to choose. You just have to."


    He waited for her answer, and for the first time since they''d known each other, he was truly afraid of what she might say. There was a part of him that wanted to take it all back and play it off as a tasteless joke. He''d say anything, as long as he didn''t lose her.


    Claire hung her head down and stared intensely into her hands, cupping them anxiously, and Ephraim imagined that she was looking into a cup of tea leaves, reading his fortune for a future that might never come.


    "If those are the only choices," she finally answered, her words slow and deliberate, "if choosing wrong means that I lose us and our families, then... I choose you."


    ~X~


    "Ephraim, please don''t tell dad."


    Ellie''s voice persisted in his head, even after the six-pack bottles of Coronas he''d torn into. He couldn''t tell Mateo what he''d walked into without breaking down into a sobbing mess, let alone his own father.


    "They betrayed me," was all he could say, hiding his wet face in his hands while Mateo gently placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and moved the opened beer bottle out of Ephraim''s reach.


    It had taken him nearly an hour to get to his friend''s place by foot. Ephraim had been so flustered after he''d left his house, after Ellie had begged him not to say anything to their father, that he''d angrily hurled his car keys onto the neighbor''s roof. It was a stupid move, and he should have thought it through, but he''d been too blinded to see it.


    Shortly after, Mateo set him up with a pillow and blankets in the living room, and some toiletries and a bath towel in the bathroom. Ephraim didn''t say much after. Mateo seemed to already know, and he wondered if Ellie had called his friend and told him the whole story. He didn''t go back home for six days, spending his nights on his best friend''s couch, watching football and avoiding all talk of his wife and sister.


    On the sixth night, his father and aunt came to take him home. Aunt Patrice wrapped her arms around him and called him her baby boy, and his father nodded at him silently. Claire had moved out of the house, his aunt had explained, and Ellie was staying with Gavin for the time being, waiting for a dorm room to become available on campus. He barely spoke on the ride home. The closer they got to the house, the harder it was to push back his memories of that day, and for the moment he needed only to forget.


    Ephraim was surprisingly numb when they walked into the house. He''d expected a mess, but it was surprisingly pristine, and he wondered if his aunt had taken the time to stop by and fix it up. He was almost certain she had. Things were missing that belonged to his wife, pictures on the walls, books on the shelves, and her collection of glass snowflake figurines. Instead, they''d been replaced and rearranged to remove the emptiness that had been left behind. Their wedding picture was still over the mantle. She hadn''t bothered to take that one. To an outsider looking in, his home had all the appearances of a happy one. It wasn''t until he made it to their bedroom that it finally sunk in just how final their separation was.


    Claire had emptied the drawers of all her underthings, and her half of their shared closet space had been cleared of everything except for three mangled wire hangers. She was gone. And all her things with her.


    Ephraim sat on the corner of their bed and stared at his cupped hands, wondering how he could possibly get through the next few nights alone in their house. In spite of what had to come to pass, he still couldn''t imagine a future without her. Or any kind of future at all.

 Crossroads

    ¡°It was a mistake,¡± Claire had insisted, pressing her forehead against the chain link fence. ¡°What happened between us. That time at the picnic...in the laundry room¡­¡±


    ¡°And in the rain?¡± was Ellie¡¯s inquisitive reply.


    Claire didn¡¯t respond but she could feel the heat of Ellie¡¯s presence behind her, and her thoughts were temporarily undone to that unbridled moment of sodden kisses in a downpour that had left them soaked to the bone.


    ¡°Why are we doing this?¡± Claire uttered, fastening her fingers tightly around the chain link fencing. ¡°Why does this keep happening? You don¡¯t even like me.¡±


    Ellie¡¯s hand pressed against hers from behind, entwining their fingers over the chain links, igniting a painful longing from the hollow of her ribs. Claire resented that longing, and the flickering sparks that singed her fleshed whenever they touched. They were tangled in a web of virulent attraction, toxic and sweet; but as crushing as it was, it made her feel alive, and she hated herself for it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stand you,¡± Ellie whispered, leaning in enough for Claire to feel the heat of Ellie¡¯s breath across her neck.  ¡°Everything about you irritates me. Always so perfect, a damn saint. You¡¯re like a poster child for the elusive happily-ever-after that every adolescent girl dreams of. But when you¡¯re standing next to my brother, you couldn¡¯t be more miserable.¡±


    ¡°You hate me, then?¡± Claire choked out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, maybe. Maybe but...¡±


    Ellie¡¯s voice trailed off and she leaned closer, startling Claire by pressing up against her and nuzzling her hair, tentatively touching her lips to the nape of Claire¡¯s slender neck. Ellie¡¯s hands instinctively tightened around Claire¡¯s cold fingers, clasping possessively as she closed her eyes. Claire tensed, and held her breath, riding out the sparks that lit up her spine.


    ¡°I can¡¯t reason when I¡¯m near you," Ellie murmured softly, her voice humming along the curves of Claire¡¯s neck. ¡°I hate it when he touches you. I hate it.¡± She pulled her arms up and across Claire¡¯s chest, embracing her firmly from behind, pressing cheek to neck and inhaling sharply.


    ¡°So, what does that say about me?¡± She uttered as she exhaled, feeling her strength leave her with every ounce of breath.


    Claire had no answer.


    ~X~


    The rain wasn¡¯t letting up.


    Ellie waited beneath the awning in front of the university library, listening to the rain as it crackled on stone and concrete, hoping it would be quick to wind down. A half hour crept by, but the rain only pelted down harder, forming wide puddles and flooding over walkways. Ellie hadn''t prepared for rain that day. Her umbrella was inconveniently tucked away in the back of her closet at home, and she was wearing her red canvas sneakers and a thin drawstring hoodie shirt that had all the appearances of warmth with none of the functionality.


    Then there was the matter of her ride home. She still had to walk down to the student union at the bottom of the hill to retrieve her bicycle from the bike lock station. From there, she would have to ride nearly three miles in the rainstorm to get home.


    I could call for a cab, she figured, although three dollars and thirty-seven cents was unlikely to get her very far. Ellie also considered calling Ephraim to come pick her up, but he was working the evening shift that month, and Gavin would still be in class for another three hours.


    In the end, it was her sister-in-law who would pick her up from school.


    When Claire arrived, Ellie loaded her bicycle into the bed of the pickup truck and quickly fastened it into place before she hopped into the passenger seat. It was warm inside, and there was a subtle sweetness in the air, like honey, lilacs, and magnolia leaves. A scent that Ellie always associated with Claire. There was also a small white hand towel set out for her on the console between the seats, meticulous folded into a perfect square.


    ¡°Thanks for coming to pick me up,¡± Ellie mumbled as she unfolded the towel and squeezed it over her wet braids, ¡°and for this.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Besides, I figured you probably didn¡¯t bring an umbrella.¡±


    ¡°Is that the impression I gave on the phone?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s just, you never do,¡± Claire answered, a small smile touched her lips as she leaned forward to change the radio station.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Ellie¡¯s cheeks were warm and wet, and she imagined that they were flushed bright red from the onslaught of the running heater. When Claire smiled at her, Ellie was compelled to hide her face under the damp towel with bated breath, her ears burning hotly.


    The drive home took all of five minutes, even with delays set in by the rain. But even five minutes was too long for Ellie as she contended with the sweet and heady scent of lilac perfume and unfettered thoughts of the laundry room.


    It embarrassed her to remember how obnoxious she had been that day. She had been acting out, lashing anger and resentment at the wrong person.


    ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll tell him,¡± Ellie had threatened, masking the emptiness of her words and finding comfort in her ire. ¡°What do you think about that? Is that what you want?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    She was never going to tell. One mistake was not worth upturning their lives and losing her brother. But she could not abstain from pressing Claire¡¯s buttons; it was almost compulsive the way she sought them out. And she wondered if Claire thought about her, if she was just as undone as Ellie had been that evening, buttons imploding in the darkness.


    ¡°Those damn tires,¡± Claire hissed under her breath as she pulled the truck into the two-car garage. ¡°I told him not to block the door.¡±


    Ephraim¡¯s muscle car was also parked inside, it¡¯s rear was propped up by a couple of heavy duty floor jacks where there should have been tires, and the hood was left propped open. Ellie¡¯s brother and Mateo had been working on it before she¡¯d left for her first lecture that morning, and they¡¯d left the tires piled in front of the door to the backyard, along with a couple of empty beer bottles on the roof.


    ¡°I need to bring the bed sheets in from the rain,¡± Claire explained as she parked the truck and handed Ellie the keys.  ¡°Take my purse inside, will you?¡±


    Claire didn¡¯t wait for Ellie to respond as she hopped out the driver¡¯s side and circled her way out the garage and to the backyard from the side gate.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s in trouble,¡± Ellie mumbled to herself, grabbing her backpack and Claire¡¯s handbag and pulling them over her shoulder.  She took down her bike and hoisted it up on the bike rack, careful not to scrape the truck again, and set the car alarm before she entered the house. The last time she¡¯d scrapped the truck, Ephraim had made her touch up and polish the paint on the same night that Band of Horses was playing at the Arena. She¡¯d begrudgingly forfeited her ticket to Gavin¡¯s eager cousin that day.


    ¡°Should I get started on dinner?¡± Ellie called out into the kitchen, setting the keys on the kitchen countertop before locking the garage door behind her. ¡°Claire?¡±


    Ellie peered into the laundry room and down the corridors leading to the master bedroom, but the floors were dry and the rooms were empty.  She called Claire¡¯s name again as she wandered into the living room, dropping their bags next to the sofa.


    ¡°Where are you?¡±


    But Claire hadn¡¯t yet made it into the house.  The rain was pouring buckets now, drumming violently against the rooftop and the east-facing windows, and filling the house with the clamoring hum of the downpour. The sky rumbled too, groaning in intervals, and branches scraped against the northeast windows as the winds pummeled through.


    ¡°What are you doing? Are you crazy?¡± Ellie yelled out into the rainstorm as she pulled the sliding door open. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get soaked!¡± but her voice was caught in the rainfall and not one syllable had reached within Claire¡¯s earshot.


    Claire, as it happened, was still hassling with the clothesline, fighting against wind and rain to pull down a tangled bed sheet that had caught against the metal hook ends.  She was already soaked to the skin; her long hair wetly hugged her neck and shoulders, and her blouse clung tightly against her torso, drenched and transparent over her bra. And her shoes had nearly disappeared under several centimeters of rain.


    ¡°Jesus,¡± Ellie groaned, then she pulled her hoodie over her head and sloshed across the flooded backyard into downpour, but the rain had been coming down so heavily that her sheer thin hoodie did nothing to keep her hair dry.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Ellie urged, taking Claire by the wrist and tugging her back toward the house. ¡°Just worry about this later.¡±


    But Claire was unyielding, and she pulled out of Ellie¡¯s grasp, taking her hand in turn.


    ¡°Here,¡± Claire instructed, securing one end of the tangled bed sheet into Ellie¡¯s grasp. ¡°Hold on while I get it undone.¡±


    Ellie conceded, pulling the bed sheet down with both hands to keep it from flapping wildly in the wind. ¡°We should just leave this one behind and take the rest,¡± she continued to implore.  The other three bed sheets remained fastened to the clothesline, rustling loudly as rain and wind beat against the tightly woven fabric.


    ¡°Are you even listening to me?¡± Ellie was nearly yelling, struggling to be heard over the rain. She was soaked now, and trembling. Her bootcut jeans were heavy with rain and pulled at the hips like weighted armor, and her feet ached as the cold from the grassy puddles percolated to her bones.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    Claire released the clothesline and snapped her hand back, cradling it against her chest, and Ellie could see a bright blot of blood on the bed sheet already beginning to wash away near the catch on the hook.


    ¡°Are you hurt? Lemme see.¡±


    Ellie didn¡¯t wait for permission when she took Claire¡¯s injured hand, examining it carefully as she pushed back her hoodie.  It was a long cut, running from the base of her palm along the fate line and intersecting with the heart line, just below her middle digit. Claire bit her mouth, gasping as Ellie traced the wound with her fingers.


    ¡°Is it pretty bad?¡± Claire rasped under quick short breaths.  There was an intensity brimming behind her eyes that was all too familiar, infecting Ellie through mutual touch.


    ¡°Not too bad,¡± Ellie assured her, releasing her hand, even as the infection spread into her chest. ¡°It¡¯s barely bleeding anymore. You¡¯re lucky that the cut was not too deep.¡±


    She was all too keenly aware of their closeness, mired by the heat in Claire¡¯s eyes, that rueful draw that mirrored her own.


    And then it happened again.  The space contracted between them, slowly diminishing until it was completely nullified. Their wet bodies pressed against each other, hip to hip, and the warmth of their ragged breaths teased cold trembling lips into supplication. Ellie did not know who kissed who first, but it didn¡¯t matter.  They both wanted this, and it could no longer be a mistake.


    Claire pressed deeper into her mouth, and Ellie gasped for breath, resenting the inconvenience of her biological need for air. They clung to each other, foreheads pressed together as their breaths abated, and Ellie pressed a hand to Claire¡¯s face, tenderly cupping her cold cheek.  Even in pouring rain, Claire smelled of honey and lilacs, a fact that drew a smile to Ellie¡¯s lips.


    Her smile didn¡¯t last long.  Their bodies were pressed so close together that one small misstep had them tumbling back.  Ellie reached for the tangled bed sheet to regain balance, but their combined weight was too much and the bed sheet tore off the hook, sending them into the rain-flooded grass.  They landed with a splash, the bed sheet submerged beneath them in the water, and white bed sheets blowing above them, encasing them in a world of white, and Ellie was startled by the shimmering droplets of rain that glittered in Claire¡¯s hair like tiny stars.


    ¡°We probably should go inside now,¡± Claire uttered, her unwavering gaze fixed to Ellie¡¯s face.


    ¡°We should?¡± Ellie choked, heat crawling up her neck and sending shivers up her spine.


    ¡°We can¡¯t stay here like this. I¡¯m freezing.¡±


    Then, leaning in closer, her lips almost grazing Claire¡¯s earlobe, Ellie whispered, ¡°Do you want to go inside?¡±


    Claire¡¯s eyes went wide, her pupils expanding as her heart throbbed in her chest. The implication born from just one stress of a syllable was not lost to her, and she wasn¡¯t sure if she could let pass unnoticed.


    ¡°Do you want to?¡± Was her tremulous reply, fear and excitement expanding from the pit of her stomach.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ellie whispered back, teasing her mouth over Claire¡¯s. ¡°I want to.¡±


    And Claire kissed her.

 Paper Stars

    "I was wrong," Ephraim confessed, staring out into the ocean as waves collapsed onto the shore, sweeping under his bare feet. He shook the seaweed off his toes when the waves receded and picked up a porous black rock peeking from beneath the wet sand. "I never should have forced it between us."


    Claire listened quietly but didn''t answer. Instead, she proceeded to remove her shoes and pull off her socks, folding them into a tight ball before stuffing them into her sneakers. She rolled up the hems of her jeans just above her ankles, annoyed that they would not go up any further. It was nearing sunset and the winds had picked up, blowing effortlessly over the sandy beach along the coast, carrying with it particles of sand and mist from the turbulent ocean waves. She closed her eyes and hugged her knees, digging her toes into the sand.


    "I want nothing more than to give you the moon," he said mournfully. "I thought I could be what you needed, the same way I need you, you know?" he paused, thumbing the rock in his hand. "That''s what this whole trip was about. I thought if it were just you and me watching the sunset and sleeping under the stars, that maybe it would fix us. But it''s all wrong. Everything has been all wrong."


    He wound his arm back and pitched the rock as far out into the ocean as he could, amassing all his pain and frustration into his swing. He never saw where it landed, never saw it midair. He only felt it as it slipped from his fingers before it vanished into nothing.


    "You don''t come near me unless I reach for you first," he went on, turning to face her. His body outlined by the golden glow of the sun as it began to dip into the horizon. "We''ve been together for almost three months and you don''t touch me. And I never get the sense that you want to."


    "Ephraim," she uttered wistfully as she rose from the sand, but she didn''t know what else she could say.


    He looked beautiful to her, shrouded in gold, sadness pressing on his slumped shoulders. The dying light from the sunset appeared to be an extension of his body, consuming the ache inside her own, and, in a strange way, it pleased her to know that he was hers.


    "I''m letting you go," he told her, pushing back the wetness in his eyes. "I can''t be the thing that holds you back."


    "What are you saying?"


    Claire took a step toward him, overwhelmed by the sudden hot ache clutching her chest. It was something like fear and anger eclipsed by a surmounting sorrow. She had no word for it, and she wouldn''t for many years to come. In the moment, she only knew that it was not something that she wanted.


    "I''m saying we should end this. How can I hope to give you everything when it feels like I clipped your wings? What kind of man does that make me?"


    "No," she stressed firmly, taking him by surprise.


    "It''s okay," he told her. "You don''t have to pretend with me. You can do whatever you want."


    "Then, I want you," she insisted, "I need you to know that." She took him by the hand before he could say another word, pulling him up the steep sand dunes, as she led him back to the car.


    "We forgot our shoes," he realized, ready to pull away and go back for them. But she held on firmly.


    "Later," she told him.


    He didn''t fight her when she pulled him in with her into the back seat of his dad''s car. Nor did he protest when she told him that she loved him back. It was natural to follow and let her take the lead. It was inevitable that he would. He saw the stars that night, glowing beneath him, pulling him into the heat and fire of an ardent embrace, daring him to empty all his hope unto her, and he never looked back.


    ~X~


    "Everything is a mess," Ellie conceded, anxiously pulling at her necklace as she stood and paced the living room. "Dad was so angry at me that he wouldn''t even look at me. And Ephraim, I don''t think he''s ever going to forgive me. He won''t even talk to me."


    Mateo looked up at his reindeer clock, mentally calculating how much longer before Ephraim was due to meet him and his wife for dinner. He had been listening quietly to Ellie as she unburdened herself since she had first arrived, for the better part of ten minutes, waiting for a pause before he could interject. But now that the opportunity presented itself, he was at a complete loss for words.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "What other outcome did you expect?" Mateo dared to ask, careful to avoid judgment in his tone. But even in its absence, he sensed that she saw through him.


    "I never set out to hurt him," she insisted. "Never. But it just happened that way anyway. Why would I do that? How could I do that?"


    She stared at him, as if expecting him to have all the answers to her inner turmoil ready to present on a PowerPoint slide.


    "You''re not that naive, Ellie."


    Mateo sighed and rubbed his fingers against his temples, the beginnings of exasperation beginning to form.


    "I think you should find someone else to confide in," was his uneasy, although candid reply. "I''m not the right person for you. I mean, he''s my friend."


    Ellie laughed, but there was a note of desperation in her eyes.


    "Is there such a thing as the right confidant for sleeping with your brother''s wife?" She pondered sarcastically.


    "Maybe Gavin?"


    Ellie shook her head. She could never bring herself to tell Gavin the truth about why she''d moved out. There was so much to explain, so many gaps to fill, and she couldn''t bear the humiliation of unpacking so much personal history, but that was not the case with Mateo.


    "I came to you because you know," she confessed, biting down on the inside of her bottom lip. "You know. They were never gonna work out and we both know why. Ephraim was always gonna get hurt."


    But he could tell from the hesitation in her voice that she didn''t quite buy into her own justification. The Ellie that he knew would never have been so callous.


    "But it didn''t have to be you," Mateo snapped back, briefly glancing out the window, ensuring that Ephraim had not yet arrived. "You''re right," he went on, "it was always going to end badly between them, but it didn''t have to be you too. It''s one thing if she cheats on him with some stranger. But you''re his sister. His sister. You''re supposed to have his back, but instead you''re playing games like some stupid selfish kid who doesn''t want to share her toys. Well, People aren''t yours to mess with, Ellie. Grow up."


    He knew he''d hit a nerve because she was visibly agitated, her hands shaking and her breath short and irregular. Ellie curled her fingers into fists, and planted them at her sides, willing the trembling to wane.


    "Stop treating me like a kid," she shot back, her voice quivering as she clenched her fists tightly. "It was never like that. Maybe when I was twelve, but I never set out to play any games. None of this was ever a game."


    "Then what was it?"


    Ellie froze, her mouth half open as she struggled to find the words. For all her constant babbling, Ephraim''s kid sister was finally rendered speechless, and Mateo would have made a big show of that fact had his best friend''s life not just been ruined.


    "I, me and her, we¡­It just wasn''t," Ellie stammered, looking away, unable to give shape to her thoughts.


    He wasn''t sure what he had expected her to say, but he hadn''t expected this. He stared hard at her, searching her furtive eyes, her anxious face, her long slender body and wondered when little Ellie had finally stopped being so little. And innocent.


    "Does she feel the same?" He had almost hesitated to ask it. As much as he dreaded the answer that was painted on Ellie''s face, he needed to hear it. Not so much for his sake than for hers, because she needed to say it and she needed it heard.


    "I don''t know," she answered, her voice soft and low as she articulated each word. He knew she was lying, and she knew that he knew it too. Her denial would have been just as transparent to anyone listening in on their conversation.


    "Then I guess this is worse," Mateo professed, trying to gather his thoughts. Ellie refused to meet his eyes and chewed her fingernails as she stared absently at her feet.


    "As awful as things are," he continued, "maybe it would have been better if you had only been playing around." Mateo gave her the courtesy of a moment''s pause, allowing her the opportunity to refute what he was saying, and what he was about to say. He understood that words made the unspoken real, giving unretractable substance to truths that would be denied. And Ellie understood this too.


    But she let the words live on, undisputed, and he took a slow and deep breath before he uttered the thing that had been unspoken.


    "But none of that applies here," he surmised. "You''re in love with her, aren''t you? That''s why you feel so guilty. And those feelings you have for her are very much reciprocated, right?"


    Tears had gathered in her eyes. She fought them and held them back by sheer will. But the dam in her eyes was too fragile for her to give a reply. One word and the dam would break.


    "So, what are you going to do now?" Mateo cautiously implored. "Where do you go from here?"


    Ellie looked up, but her eyes looked right through him as she sought her reply from the jumble of words that hindered her thoughts. She had literally hundreds of thousands of words to choose from yet she could only play her father''s anger over and over again in her head like a broken record, then look of disbelief on Ephraim''s face when he caught them in bed. In his bed. The same one he shared with his wife.


    "Ellie?"


    "I," she began to say, and her voice broke.

 Spark

    Eleven months ago.


    Ellie waited for dusk to come.


    The last of the guests had gone, and Ellie had chosen to linger outside a while longer after she''d walked Gavin to his car. Perched on the front porch steps hugging her lanky bare knees to her chest and leaning backward as she gazed up at the sky, Ellie counted down the seconds as twilight extinguished into night. The distant blinking white light of an airplane flew overhead in silence as the last shred of daylight vanished, racing past the glittering stars that seemed to flicker in and out of existence in the darkness. She loved nights like these best, when the light of the new moon was buried behind its shadow, conceding its brilliance to the stars, so bright that she could get lost in them.


    The porch lights turned on, and she could feel a cool gust of air on her back as the front door creaked open and light footsteps approached from behind. Ellie stiffened, sitting up straighter without bothering to turn around, and her mouth pressed firmly into a tight line.


    "Beautiful night, isn''t it?" Claire remarked as she came up beside Ellie, bracing herself against the rounded pillar as if seeking respite from a very long day. Without waiting for a response, she pointed up to the blinking light above and wondered aloud what star that might be.


    "That''s probably a 747."


    "Odd name for a star," she mused, her eyes hazy from the alcohol.


    "Maybe," Ellie replied, "but not so odd for a passenger airplane."


    Ellie didn''t bother to explain that most stars had numerical classifications. It was an unnecessary clarification since it was bound to lead to more inane conversation. Instead, she waited for Claire to lose interest as the plane disappeared in the distance, expecting her to retreat back inside the house, and she was so certain she would as silence settled between them. Her eyelids looked heavy with sleep, and her arms were so weary and weak that she barely clung on to that pillar. But the minutes lapsed, dragging on, and Claire still conveyed no inclination to leave.


    "You and your brother are so much alike," she noted, eclipsing the silence.


    "I think the alcohol has affected your vision," was Ellie''s flat reply as she nudged a pebble with the toe of her shoe on the concrete walkway.


    "I don''t mean that," Claire insisted, seemingly unaware of Ellie''s indifference. "You obsess over the stars the way he used to. Ephraim was always going on about them too when we were kids. He even named one after me for my seventeenth birthday." There was the slightest slur in her speech, and Ellie wondered just how much alcohol Claire had to drink that night.


    "I remember. He was always such a sappy romantic."


    Claire cocked her head against the pillar and stared up at the sky, searching for the obscure star that bore her name. But she wouldn''t find it that night, or any other night for that matter. It was as if the star had been completely blotted from existence.


    "It was such a sweet gesture," Claire uttered somberly, "A very Ephraim thing for him to do."


    "Yeah." It was a perfunctory response, but she wondered what Claire was implying. "I bet Maren was pretty jealous."


    Ellie hadn''t quite intended the snark that came spilling out of her with her last remark, and she could fathom even less why she''d said it in the first place, but one glance in Claire''s direction and Ellie knew that she had not heard her utterance, or at the very least had not given it any regard.


    "I hated it so much."


    There was a firmness to Claire''s mouth that Ellie had not expected. And unreadable eyes that had fixed themselves upon the brightest of stars. Claire looked like she had more to say, but, whatever that might have been, it died before an utterance was made.


    Rubbing the back of her neck, Ellie turned away. A twinge of hesitation pulled at her insides, and as much as she did not want to continue their conversation, as much as she had wanted Claire to leave her alone, she was compelled to pry.


    "Why did you hate it? Isn''t that normally the sort of thing that girls like?"


    It certainly had seemed to be the case with the girls she went to school with. Girls who preoccupied their time with fingernail polish and hair products and honed their makeup application skills with YouTube video tutorials. All that just to look like pretty little statues on the sidelines as they sought admiration and validation, desperate for anyone to take notice. And Claire was easily the prettiest of all the statues.


    "Maybe I''m not normal then," Claire confessed, and Ellie bit back the caustic retort that lingered on the tip of her tongue. "A normal girl might not feel so burdened. But I was. It was, it was like I was being set up with all these ideas he had in his head, you know? Expectations I could never live up to, on a pedestal that was so ridiculously high."


    "Oh."


    "I do miss the stars, though."If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    There was a nostalgic timbre to her voice, and Ellie wondered what she meant by that. Something about her words struck her with a loneliness she did not anticipate.


    Ellie said nothing more. She couldn''t say anything more. Her sister-in-law had just drunkenly poured out a bit of her heart, and Ellie could not bring herself to judge her for it. More than that, she got the impression that Claire was mostly speaking to herself, and Ellie had been something akin to an unintended witness of her admission. Choosing to sit in silence as crickets swelled the night with their endless chirps, her eyes remained fixed on the stars above although she hardly took notice of them anymore. Claire had surprised her in a way that Ellie had not expected, so much so that she had not noticed when Claire finally disappeared back into the house and turned the lights off behind her.


    But she never was like those girls, Ellie hated to admit to herself. Claire wasn''t so frivolous or vain to be lumped together with the girls Ellie remembered from high school, or the girls on campus who made spectacles of themselves at the weekly parties thrown by Gavin''s fraternity. Claire had never sought the spotlight, or the veneration imposed by shallow peers, but somehow it always found her anyway.


    She misses the stars, Ellie mused, leaning her back flat against the wooden floor of the front porch and closing her eyes. For some reason she remembered the unfinished Dobsonian telescope collecting dust in her parents'' garage. It was a project Ellie had started years ago in response to her mother''s second diagnosis of cancer, and she abandoned it shortly after when the illness took away her only reason to finish it. Her mother would never get to see the galaxies Ellie had promised her, and the telescope parts she had collected and labored over were buried in forgotten corners of the garage.


    "I see right through you," the night whispered, stirring her awake, and something like shame swelled inside her with her sharp intake of breath.


    Ellie couldn''t remember falling asleep on the porch, or the fleeting memory that crept into her dream during her brief nap, but she caught a piece of it as she woke before it dissipated into fog. Disembodied words that meant little without context but pressed into her chest like a vice. She was left with a residual uneasiness, one that persisted even when she stumbled over Claire''s sleeping form on the floor after she went back inside the house.


    "Jesus, what are you doing there?" Ellie hissed above a whisper as she turned on the living room light. Claire lay curled on the Persian rug, her head pressed against the foot of the leather recliner, and Ephraim was sprawled out on the sofa with a half empty beer bottle wedged upright between his legs and blue icing smudged on his chin.


    "So bright," he groaned, sliding a hand over his face, barely awake at all.


    "I can''t believe these are my adult role models," Ellie grumbled softly, picking up the empty beer bottles and dumping them in the recycling bin. She quickly cleared away the dirty plates into the dishwasher and covered the half-eaten birthday cake before tucking it into the fridge. It took longer to sort through the crumbled wrapping paper and empty gift bags, and it gave her pause when she came across the cheap lip gloss she had gifted Claire before finally casting it onto the pile of opened gifts on the kitchen counter.


    "Go to bed," Ellie urged as she popped her head into the living room once more after she was done. "You guys are gonna feel like crap in the morning if you spend the night here."


    If they heard her, Ephraim and Claire certainly didn''t show it, and Ellie shrugged before she turned off the lights and headed to her room, but she hadn''t reached her room before she reluctantly turned around and marched back into the living room.


    "Alright, up," Ellie commanded as she coaxed Claire off the floor. Taking her hand, Ellie leaned under Claire like a crutch, and pulled her up to her feet.


    "Hold onto me and watch your step," Ellie cautioned, clutching tighter as she guided Claire through the hallway and to her bedroom. She could smell liquor on her breath, and it was surprisingly cinnamony and sweet.


    "Bed?" Claire mumbled, clasping her fingers over Ellie''s shirt as she sought her balance. Once they made it to the master bedroom, Ellie eased Claire into her bed and helped her out of jeans, but moments later Claire was bent over the toilet in tears, heaving and gagging as she expelled the toxics from her body. Ellie waited, standing under the door frame, ready with a glass of tap water as she observed the woman before her with curious interest. Claire, who was usually so meticulously kempt and so perfectly composed, was a crumbled and disheveled mess. There was nothing pristine about her appearance, and somehow, she seemed the better for it.


    Claire managed to gulp down half the glass of water, triggering a second wave of nausea and vomiting, and Ellie had to coax a leery Claire into finishing the second half by holding the glass to her lips, even as Claire continued to push it away. She was weaker than before, following her second round, and Ellie half carried her back to bed, her legs trembling beneath her as she bore both their combined weight across the floor. Claire closed her eyes before her head hit her pillow, and Ellie pulled off her sweater and unbuttoned her vomit-splattered blouse, gingerly tugging it off, leaving only a modest camisole beneath.


    What do the stars mean to you? She wondered, remembering that funny feeling at the pit of her stomach several New Year''s ago. There had been streamers and confetti, and bottomless flutes of champagne. And the same aching from back then throttled in her chest, drawing her closer to unfettered truths. What do you see in those stars?


    In that moment, Ellie wanted to reach inside her and touch that part of her that Ephraim had forgotten. She wanted to give her a piece of those stars, and smother the loneliness that dwelled inside her eyes, harnessed within the darks of her irises.


    "I see you," Ellie breathed softly, pressing a consoling hand to Claire''s forehead as tears spilled freely from her weathered eyes and down her cheeks. Claire had always been a sorry drunk, bad at holding her liquor and quick to cry, sometimes for no reason at all, but Ellie couldn''t imagine not crying after an ordeal like hers. Claire was sure to be dealing with a massive hangover in the morning.


    For all her glitter and shine, Claire was so painfully flawed, so terribly human, and so very small. Still, there was something about her that drew Ellie in, compelling her to scrutinize all her perfect imperfections.


    "You see me?" Claire raised a hand as if attempting to reach for Ellie, but in her exhaustion, she let it fall limp beside her, exhaling deeply and giving in to her body''s demand for rest.


    "I see you," Ellie assured her. For the first time, she truly did.


    And as she watched her sleep from the bedroom door, not quite ready to let the moment end, Ellie dared to wonder aloud to herself, "Do you see me too?"

 Endings

    "You''re leaving," Ellie remarked as she struggled for breath, surprised by the resignation in her own voice. The moment Ellie saw Claire open the door to her hotel room as she prepared to leave, all the resolve Ellie had been nursing on the bike ride had evaporated into thin air. Twenty minutes of peddling an uphill battle had deflated what little intrepidity had spurred her forward.


    Claire''s leaving had never been a matter of conjecture, and it was evident from the carryon bag strapped over Claire''s shoulder and the oversized suitcase parked at her feet that the moment had arrived. It wasn''t a simple relocation to another hotel either, or a move across town. Wherever Claire was headed to, she had a plane ticket to get her there.


    "Why?" But Ellie was not so naive. She understood Claire''s situation better than most. Claire''s ended marriage hadn''t just severed her relationship with Ephraim, it had rippled across their lives unraveling ties that had not been all her own.


    "I have to," Claire replied unapologetically. There was a kindness in her voice that Ellie wished was not there. Then, maybe she could protest and whine like the little child that lived inside of her. She was still just nineteen after all. "With everything that''s happened, I just can''t stay. And I think you know that."


    "If only¡­" Ellie began to say, only to trail off in silence as she reconsidered her words. If only what? She mused. If only my brother hadn''t seen us? If only I hadn''t kissed you that time and you hadn''t kissed me back? If only we had never become family, and our lives had never touched? And just maybe we would all be free.


    "Don''t tear yourself apart over What ifs," Claire cautioned ruefully. "It doesn''t do you any good, and you just end up feeling even more miserable inside."


    Claire looked away, timidly squeezing on her own arm, and unable to move. Ellie had unintentionally fixed herself in the frame of the doorway, blocking Claire''s only way out, but Claire could have easily pushed past her. She could have but she didn''t. It was as if time had stood still and any movement on their part would start the clock up again. They both understood this somehow, and they refused to part from the awkward stillness that had formed around them.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Time, however, could not truly stand still, and the loud horn from Claire''s waiting taxicab broke the illusion.


    "I should go now. My ride is waiting."


    No sooner had Claire reached for her suitcase handle that Ellie reached for her. Taking a shaky step forward into the room, Ellie outstretched her arms and pulled Claire into the heat of her embrace. The hotel room door closed behind her, and they held on, wordlessly, hearts throbbing in the darkness.


    The taxi honked two more times and Claire''s phone rang unanswered before they heard the grind and whine of the car engine as it turned back on, quietly listening as the tires began to pull away.


    It was only after they could no longer hear the hum of the taxi as it drove off that Ellie leaned up and kissed the corner of Claire''s mouth. That was all Claire needed. She dropped her purse and her carryon bag on the floor and pulled Ellie toward her as she walked them back to the bed.


    "What about your flight?" Ellie gasped between kisses as both their fevered hands worked to undress the other.


    "There''s always another one tomorrow."


    And that was enough for Ellie.


    She wasn''t afraid of tomorrow. It was going to come whether she wanted it or not, but she had this moment, and it was completely theirs. It was not stolen nor burdened by deception, and there was no shame in the soft moans that filled the room as hands and bodies touched and pleaded for tenderness and release. Tomorrow could not take away the spark that linked them, or the words that finally found their voice, whispered like a sweet hum on warm lips and prying tongues; their bodies sought them out, trembling and twisting, wringing out ardent passions with words that promised so much more.


    Ellie couldn''t be sure who uttered them first, but after morning came and Claire had gone, she knew they were real. The pain from parting did not diminish the warmth of those words, even with her tears, the words filled her and etched themselves into her flesh. That sad and lonely girl who''d supplanted the stars had inscribed herself like a curse. And those words were her bindings.


    "Me too," Ellie uttered softly when she left shortly after. She wondered if love would always end in a whimper, painful and silent, as the warm breeze dried away the last of her tears.