I take a step back and let him move into the room and shut the door behind him. “What’s going on, J?”
“I…” He rubs the back of his neck. “You want to get drunk?”
“Yes please, but that won’t solve your issues, and it will probably make it worse.”
“Something fell through at work and it was a shitstorm today, I just want to go to my apartment and forget about this shitty day and get drunk with you.”
“Do you want to go out?”
“No.”
“Come on, I have a fake. It might make you feel better.” I pull my coat on and pull my hair out and over one shoulder.
“You know I hate when you use that,” he grumbles as he slings my duffle bag over his shoulder and slides up the handle of my roller suitcase. “It’s fine, I don’t want to have to worry about keeping you out of trouble or assholes from hitting on you.”
My eyebrows furrow slightly. “Why’s it a big deal if anyone hits on me? I’m eighteen, James.”
“I am well aware of that,” he says somewhat under his breath and moves towards the door. “Can we go?”
I’m just about to respond when Harper comes skipping through the door. “Oh, thank God, I didn’t miss you!” Her blonde curly hair bounces as she runs towards me and she squeals before launching herself into my arms. “Mwah.” She kisses my cheek. “Have a great holiday and text me every day.”
I laugh at her infectious energy despite the fact that I know she’s hungover. Movement in my periphery draws her attention to my brother and her blue eyes widen. “Oh hey, James!” Her voice squeaks slightly and I smile at her perpetual nervousness around my brother.
“Hey, Harper, how you feeling?” He gives her a knowing smile and she rolls her eyes.
“Fine and dandy! They say the cure to a hangover is being under twenty-five. Sorry, old man,” she jokes back and the flirtiness in her voice kind of irritates me. It shouldn’t. Also, I’m like ninety-nine percent sure James has zero interest in Harper.
“Ha-ha. Well, I hope you have a great Christmas. Gab, we should go.”
“You too,” she sings, drawing out the o’s. “Love you, mean it,” she says as she turns towards me.
“Love you, mean it, Harp.”
Two shots of Jameson later and James and I are sitting on the floor in front of his fireplace with a pizza between us. The television is playing Home Alone, one of our favorite holiday movies, but we turned it all the way down so we can talk. The snow is still flurrying through the air but it isn’t sticking too aggressively and we’ve already received strict instructions from Dad to leave no later than ten tomorrow morning. The fire, the alcohol, the Christmas feels, it all feels so romantic and I have to actively remind myself that this is not a date.
“Ready for another?”
I nod, knowing that I’m feeling it but also that this is the same guy that taught me how to take shots on my sixteenth birthday, so I’m not that much of a lightweight.
“I love that you can drink.” He chuckles. “Warms my heart.”
“I bet it does.” I laugh remembering my birthday. “You were the first person to ever get me drunk.” He had come home for the night just for my birthday and after Mom, Dad and Monica went to bed we stayed up watching movies which led to him getting me drunk for the first time.
“I remember it so vividly, you were hilarious,” he says as he pours us another shot.
“And we vowed to never talk about it.” I shake my head. I remember next to nothing about that night except for telling James a million times that I loved him.
He brings the shot glass to his lips and he looks over at me for a beat before shaking his head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You were staring at me funny.”
“I just remembered something and I…it’s weird.”
“What? Tell me!” I demand.
“Well, that night you told me you were a virgin and I was kind of still wondering if you were.”
My mouth drops open and I feel the heat in my face. My body was already heating up from the alcohol but now I feel like I am borderline on fire. “I can’t believe I told you that, and I can’t believe we are talking about it!” I take the shot without him.
“Hey!”
I raise my middle finger as I take a sip of the ginger ale to ease the burn of the whiskey going down. “You should have thought of that before bringing up that.”
“I’m sorry, Gab…I was just wondering.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “It was just a question.”
“Are you?”
“A virgin?” He snorts. “Yeah, I’m saving myself for marriage.”
“I’ll bet.” I mutter. “To answer your question, Mr. Invasive, yes, I am a virgin.”
A smile pulls at his lips before he takes his shot. “Good to hear.”
“Why is that good to hear?”
“Ummm because you’re my little sister and I’m insanely protective of you. I’m sorry, have we met?”
I giggle and am very aware that three shots do make me tipsy so I do need to start being cognizant of how many of these I take down. I take a bite of my pepperoni pizza, and another and another, trying to eat as much as I can between drinks to keep me as sober as possible.
James pours another shot for himself and takes it, putting him at four and I frown wondering why he didn’t pour one for me.
“I don’t want to push you. Have to space you out some.”
“Yeah, can’t drink quite like you yet, old man,” I tease, using Harper’s nickname.
“You think I’m old?”
“You’re almost thirty, J.”
“That’s not old.”
“Okay compared to me, it feels old.”
“I’m only eleven years older than you,” he counters.
“So weird to think you were thirteen when I came barging into your life.” I laugh remembering it. “And now you’re about to be thirty.”
“Fuck. It does feel like a lifetime ago when you say it like that. What are we going to do for my birthday? You planning a party for me?” he asks and my eyes widen.
“You want me to? Don’t you have some over twenty-one year old friends that would be better at planning a party for you? Not your underaged sister?”
“No one knows me better than you. Besides, I would rather spend my birthday with you than just about anyone.”
“Well, duh.” I flick my hair over my shoulder and he smiles showing all his teeth and for a moment I’m momentarily disarmed and at a loss for words. “But you know what I mean, maybe Monica would be better at that.”
“Monica probably doesn’t even know when my birthday is.” He laughs and stretches his feet out in front of him on the floor and leans back on an elbow.
“Who knows when anyone’s birthday is without social media these days.”
“Umm, excuse me, I know your birthday and Monica’s too without looking. And…you don’t know mine?” He cocks a head to the side and for a brief second, I see something that looks similar to hurt flash through them.