My Best Friend's Hot Brother (18+)

Bittersweet Kisses

The title isn't word for word this time so place the avocado when you find "bittersweet". Avocado level difficult. 

Sterling

"You need to eat."

These are the words my mom says to me as she gingerly perches upon my bed, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead to check my temperature.

But we both know I am not ill. I'm heartbroken. Devastated.

Life has seemed to lose all meaning without Gabby and Jackson in it. I spend my days burrowed beneath the covers, sleeping away my sadness. 

At night, I am restless, pacing back and forth. I plead to a higher power and wish on every shooting star for just one more day with my best friend, but when I wake up, she is still gone.

Same as the day before. And the day before that.

My mother sighs, nudging a plate of cinnamon and sugar toast towards me. "Even if it's just one bite, Sterling. You need to put something in your stomach."

"Why?" I ask glumly, rolling over so that my back is towards her.

"So you don't starve to death," she states, reaching out to tenderly stroke my hair.

I scoff. "Maybe, I want to," I mutter.

She clicks her tongue at me, but she is all out of words of comfort. Nothing she can say will bring either of them back to me.

"Would you like to go see a movie?" she asks. "I'll even buy you one of those blue raspberry slushies you enjoy even though they are filled with sugar. And a tub of popcorn with extra butter," she adds.

"No," I reply, shaking my head. "Please, just leave me alone."

"Alright, dear," she sighs, standing up and giving me a peck upon the cheek. "But just in case you change your mind, I'll go check the showtimes."

As the door softly clicks in place behind her, I let the tears that I've been holding onto escape freely down my cheeks. I press my fist to my mouth as I try to make sense of what my life has become.

A few months ago, I was happy. And now, I don't even want to get out of bed.

But I need to do something. I can't keep living this way.

My sights fall upon the hairbrush that I used to style Gabby's locks the night of the party. The golden trim catches the light, and I can still see strands of her hair embedded into the bristles.

It's then that I get an idea. It's not much. Or maybe, it's everything. But either way, it's the first step that I will take towards gathering the shattered pieces of my heart and attempting to tape them back together again.

Crawling out of bed, I wander over towards the brush and clutch it delicately between my fingers. I smile wistfully as I trace my touch over the honey hued hairs that weave in and out of the piece.

This is the last true tether I have to my best friend, and I know exactly what I need to do.

My mother's eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I appear in the doorway of the living room. 

"Actually, I think I would like to leave the house today," I announce. "May I borrow the car?"

***

Several hours later, I'm pulling into the familiar driveway of the lakeside cabin in Maine. The ashes of the burned locks of Gabby's hair sits in a sandwich bag in the passenger seat.