His lips trail down my neck, sending shivers all over.
"I love looking at you," he breathes, brushing the hair off my shoulders. "Will you let me look at you?"
My heart hammers, a wild thing seeking his. "Yes."
So he does. And I feel it. For a long...
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NOAH
My mother's a decider, a confident organizer, a General in her life. Chores, academics, finances, it's all her.
My father did nothing but work. Work with wildlife, work on the house, work with his children.
Now, the courts say that I am grown. The law says I'm a man, that I can have a wife, children with chores and academics, and worry about finances.
I don't think my work as a brother is done yet. Maybe never. Not when I'm in this house.
The low hum of a Christmas carol plays from the record player we keep tucked beside the pantry in the kitchen, the vinyl crackling. Camila's been here for two hours. I can't stop watching her.
She's sat halfway up on the carpeted stairs, in the middle of a huddle with Azi and Mabel. My little sister is sprawled across Cam's lap, waving a tiny plastic dinosaur in her face, while Azi is rebuilding a house of cards on her knee. He's on his fifth attempt now, and his face is all scrunched up.
Every time he gets close to finishing, Cam tickles his sides and the whole thing tumbles down. Azi breaks out into cackling laughs, dogpiling over Mabel.
Cam laughs, trying to steady herself. "I'm sorry! I promise to stay as still as a rock this time." But the way she says it...we all know she's messing around.
Mabel groans, wiggling around under Azi's chunky little body. "I want to play too! Let me try!"
Cinnamon and cloves waft from the kitchen, mixing with the soft pine scent of the Christmas tree in the corner near the mantle. The tree is decked out in a collection of ornaments, some hand-painted by Maman years ago, others new and bright, twinkling with tiny lights that reflect off the glass baubles.
The stockings hang from the mantle, each one embroidered with a name—Jacqueline, Dayo, Azi, Mabel, and mine—with Camila's hastily drawn on a sticky note, stuck at the end, a smily face scribbled beside the sock-sketch. Azi made it for her last night, Maman said. They'll get her a real one tomorrow.
"Hold on." Cam takes the dinosaur from Mabel's hand, examining it. "Is this a T-Rex or a Brontosaurus?"
Mabel throws her hands up and yells at me, "Noah, she doesn't know what a T-Rex looks like!"
"Don't drag me into this," I say from my spot at the banister, leaning on it, chin on my arms. I'm half-watching them, half-keeping an eye on Dayo, who's sprawled on the couch with The Count of Monte Cristo propped up on his knees. He's pretending to work on some high school essay on the table, but I know better.
Cam's laughter pulls me back to the stairs. "I might not know dinosaurs, but the first thing you told me was that you like my shirt!" She pulls her pink Dino tee off her chest. ALL MY FRIENDS ARE DEAD. "I know how to build a card house, unlike you." Cam pokes Azi's cheek. He giggles, pushing her face away with his chubby hand. Cam just does it back.
