boston {h.s.}

vingt-cinq.*

"I'M OUTSIDE YOUR apartment."

Vaguely flabbergasted, I blink. Silence fills both ends of the phone as he waits for me to process the information that he has just presented me with. "Outside my—you're outside right now?" I clarify, looking out the window to see whether I can see his familiar car. Unsurprisingly, it is concealed from public view. "What are you calling me for?"

He just sighs, the sound pairing nicely with the way that I imagine he is rolling his eyes. "Because I'm horny. Hurry up and get your ass down here."

"What if I'm busy?"

"You're not," he responds, almost bored with the predictability of my response. I look down to the papers that I am grading in front of me. Romeo and Juliet papers stack up high from my ninth graders who are finishing up their unit on the play. All that's left is for me to finish grading these papers and return them. After the completion of the unit, we are transitioning into something a bit more friendly; a unit on memoirs. Yesterday I had put out a feeler for student eagerness for the unit. Everyone was excited to move on from Romeo and Juliet. Though, I was gratified when they admitted to liking the play more than they thought they would. Whether they said so just for my ego or for genuine truth, I don't mind.

Carefully, I set down my pen. It's purple today. I close my eyes and slowly exhale. "What makes you so sure of that?" We're in the long game now. The teasing and toying that we typically engage in as a means to our sexual completion. Only, today he doesn't seem as enticed by it.

Another sigh sounds. This one significantly more audible. "Listen, princess, if you're busy that's fine but let me know because I'm horny and I want your tight cunt—"

A wave courses through my body, resulting in the increasingly familiar pooling between my thighs. "Be down in two minutes." I hurry out the words, not waiting for his response before I hang up the phone. Quickly, I glance over at myself in the mirror. A pair of sweatpants hang low on my hips and a pair of uninviting underwear beneath them. Not caring to change the sweatpants, I quickly change into slightly sexier underwear and add a bit of volume to my hair by running my hands through it. I'm aware of the fact that I am getting pretty for him—primping, as he had called it last time. The sensation is odd. I don't care overmuch about how attractive I look when I see him. Instead, I care more about being desirable. Internally, I wonder whether these are the same things.

On my way out of my room I stuff myself into a long, down jacket and a pair of moccasins on my feet. The outfit is entirely discombobulated but I don't mind. I leave my room and make my way towards the front door, hoping that I won't pass my brother on the way out. Unfortunately, luck is not on my side. "Where you going?" He asks, turning to look at me and muting the television. Undivided attention isn't something that I typically get when he's watching one of his shows, but during the commercial break, all bets are off. Subconsciously I begin to fret over whether this means that he is suspicious.

"The bookstore," I lie with surprising ease.

This is the kind of lie that is most effective, mostly because it is so easily believable. I go to bookstores with an alarming frequency. Save from food, transport, and rent, I spent the majority of my free money on different books to stack high on my various bookshelves located throughout Jack's apartment. "Have fun," he offers, turning back to face the television. Another advantage of such an excuse is that it offers nothing to Jack. He doesn't read—I couldn't say the last time that he read a book. He would find nothing there that he wanted.

"Thanks." I turn my back so that the guilt won't show on my face. When we were younger, I lied infrequently at best. But, whenever I did, Jack was always the person who could spot it a mile out. I wonder if he still has that ability and just chooses not to use it. Or maybe he just trusts me more now. Either way, I know that I must push the twinge of guilt to the side.