LISA

Rain slashed my windshield and doused the street. I eased my car into my family's driveway, avoiding the flooded potholes. Usually, the drive home from school took an hour. In this weather, it took two.

The porch light was out. I used the flashlight on my phone, shielding it from the rain, to reach the dark front door. My key stuck in the deadbolt. I jiggled it and the lock yielded.

Not how I normally chose to spend my Friday nights. But Jennie wasn't available, and there was nothing to keep me on campus.

Inside, the usual evening sounds of too-loud TV came from the living room. The wallpaper peeled. Water dripped from a corner of the ceiling.

In Italy, I thought I could forget this house. Back home, it wasn't so simple.

Passing through the kitchen, I dropped my duffel bag on the table and left my big sketchpad against the wall. I'd never brought that pad home, but this time, I'd grabbed it on the way out. It was my companion on the drive.

At stoplights, I'd stared at the pages covered in drawings. I only wanted to sketch one subject these days, and she was gone for a week.

I walked into the darkened living room. My father lay in the recliner.

"Back for the free laundry?" He didn't turn from the flickering TV.

I sat down on the edge of the sagging couch. "Yep."

We never discussed why I came here every other weekend. Before Italy, I'd avoided home as much as possible. He had to know the real reason — a guilt-offering I laid at his feet, a debt I owed my brothers. But denial was a seductive mistress.

College basketball played on the TV. Our team had made it to the tournament.

"There's your school." Dad didn't sound surprised. His emotions had been flattened for years. "Good team."

"Mm."

I knew better than to ask how are things? My father lived his life — barely. He went to work. He paid the monthly bills. Anything else was too much to ask.

I caught a flash of red and white on the sidelines and straightened up.

I hadn't seen Jennie since Tuesday morning, when she hopped on a plane to cheer for the tournament. Before she left, she asked to come extra nights next week to make up what she'd miss.

She was spreading herself too thin. I was willing to let the missed nights go, but she wouldn't have reacted well. She'd think I didn't want her, or she'd worry about the money.

"You doing well at school?" Dad broke in.

"I am."

"Going to graduate?"

"With honors."

"You're still in Kappa Sigma?"

"Mm-hm." In the light of the TV, I flexed my fingers to look at the ring. I'd joined my father's fraternity to carry on the family tradition. To atone. When he gave me his ring, it was the closest thing in years to a moment of warmth between us. But it didn't last.

"Good. You'll have a network for life. If you need a job after graduation—"

"I have a job lined up."

He picked up the remote.

"Don't," I said quickly.

"Why? You want to see your team?"

"Game's almost over."

I waited for the camera to pan and give me a glimpse of her. To make sure she was healthy, that's all. I didn't want anything to interfere with our time together next week. A cascade of dark hair swirled into view, surrounding her beaming smile.

I couldn't look away. She was lit up. Radiant. Genuinely happy.

She'd changed since I spent the night in her room.

"So you have a job," Dad said.

"Financial analyst at a bank. It's an hour from school. Starts the end of June."

He nodded. "You always had a head for numbers."

I stretched out my legs and glanced at my empty wrist. Most of time, I remembered that I'd given my watch away. "Today's my birthday."

He turned from his recliner. The sudden eye contact was startling. His eyes were brown, like mine, but foggy. Jennie complained that her parents were always in her business, but I'd waited four years for my dad to look at me.

"That so? End of March already?" Now that I had his attention, he was pinning me with it. "Twenty-seven now?"

I nodded.

"What are you doing for your birthday, daughter?"

Just say it. I wanted his bitter anger, his accusation. Some display of emotion — any emotion — in reaction to what I did on my birthday four years ago.

"Nothing," I said.

"Nothing's fine. You can't get into trouble for nothing."

That summed up Dad's approach. When he wasn't at work, he lay in this recliner, a shell of himself.

We watched in silence as the game came to a close. I caught one more glimpse of Jennie, a tease of her profile, and had the urge to sink into her. After class on Tuesday, when I was facing almost a week without her, I'd buried my face in my pillow to smell her. She was splashed all over my sheets, fresh, sweet and musky.

I'd done the same damn thing with Yoona. Rolled all over her pristine thousand thread-count sheets to soak her up while she was at work.

I was trading one obsession for another.

"Dad, the roof's leaking."

"I'll take care of it."

If I left that leak to my dad, it would spread, eroding the roof, while the floor disintegrated, and sooner or later the whole fucking house would fall down.

I got a bucket from under the sink and put it below the leak. Another expense I didn't budget for.

Pulling out my wallet, I counted my cash — low. At the back, three crisp hundreds waited for Jennie. I wasn't touching those. A crumpled receipt from a mechanic fell out. My car was on its last legs.

To the sound of water hitting the bucket, I checked my bank balance. My phone's screen glowed in the dark. I had money left from my internship in Rome, and what I earned this year from researching in the econ department.

It was dwindling fast.

After graduation, there'd be a six-week gap until I started my job.

I left Dad to the TV. In the kitchen sink, a tower of dishes threatened to topple. I'd do them later.

I dropped a few twenties on the empty table. Normally, my dad did this — the only gesture he made toward taking care of Nick and Eddie. Instead of buying groceries and necessities, he left crumpled bills on the table and my brothers were left to fend for themselves. During my last visit, Eddie hinted that the cash had slowed to a trickle.

Walking down the hall, I knocked on his door. He was hunched over his old PlayStation, as usual.

"Hey, buddy." I hugged him around his narrow shoulders.

"Hey!" He bounced up and flashed his customary Lisa's here! grin, zooming from sluggish to excited, but deep circles shadowed his eyes. There were too many energy drinks lined up on his desk.

"Let's call it quits on these for tonight, okay?" I moved the drinks to the back of the desk.

"I only had two," he protested, pushing scraggly brown hair out of his eyes. I'd take him to get it cut tomorrow. "You're home early! You usually come on Saturday."

"There's nothing happening at school tonight. And I missed you."

On the shelf above his desk, piled with papers and ninth grade textbooks, an old family picture caught my eye. Eddie snuggled up on Mom's lap. They resembled each other: short and slight, with brown eyes that were soft instead of sharp. I resisted the urge to turn the picture toward the wall.

"Are you making us dinner tomorrow?" he asked.

"'Course." My stomach growled. I'd skipped that meal tonight. Too much of my food money was going toward splurges, like out-of-season strawberries on a breakfast tray.

"You cook really well now," Eddie said. He was right — ever since I lived in Rome. "What about tonight? Aren't you doing something fun? I thought you went out all the time on Friday nights."

Growing up, Eddie wanted to know everything about my life. Now he was scraping by, still putting me on a pedestal. Still trying to live through me, the fucking great role model, while he hid out in his room. It killed me.

I tousled his hair. "This is fun," I assured him. "I'm here to see you."

He beamed and held out a controller. "Okay, will you play with me?"

His smile was so eager and breakable. I couldn't say no.

I took the controller and sat on the floor. "Where's Nick?"

"Dunno. He's never here."

Eddie was fragile. It was a relief to see him in a good mood tonight. A few weeks ago, he'd called me at one am with a full-blown panic attack and I'd driven home, zooming away from campus while a pair of dark eyes full of questions stared after me.

The minutes slipped away. When my phone buzzed, I paused the game.

A little bird told me it's your birthday.

I smiled; I couldn't help it. Who told her? Probably James Ulloa.

He thought I already knew. I went along with it.

"C'mon, let's play," Eddie said.

So…happy birthday, Lisa.

I closed my eyes. I could smell her.

That's right, girl. Wish me a happy birthday. Make today a good day.

My eyes snapped open. No. Fuck, no. Jennie wasn't supposed to care. She wasn't supposed to text me sweet little messages. If she wanted to tell me about her life, fine, but my life was none of her business. The more she found out, the more she'd wish she hadn't.

"Who's texting you?" Eddie wanted to know.

"A friend. She said happy birthday."

"Oh, geez!" He clapped a hand over his mouth. "I forgot! I'm so sorry, I didn't get you anything."

"Don't worry about it, bud."

I know we're not exactly in the habit of texting, except when you order me to wear my cheer uniform or shreddable panties. But I was thinking of you.

I shouldn't have gone to that basketball game to watch her cheer. I shouldn't have rushed the court and carried her to safety like some hero. I shouldn't have walked into her apartment, seen her bedroom, slept in her bed.

I'm committing the cardinal sin of texting too many times in a row, and you know what? I don't give a shit.

Involuntarily, I smiled. She was so damn cute. Which made it worse.

To be honest, I can't sleep.

It doesn't feel like Friday night if I'm not in your room being bossed around and humiliated.

If I were there, I'd make all your birthday wishes come true.

Blood rushed to my cock. If she were there, I'd set her straight for trying to take the reins.

I hope you're having fun. I hope you're happy.

I let the phone fall to the carpet. It buzzed one more time.

I never thought I'd say this, but you deserve a special day. The best.

"Lisa?" Eddie waved his energy drink in my face. "Can we play?"

I turned my phone over so I wouldn't see the screen. I'd take "I hate you" over this kindness. There were boundaries around our time together. I wouldn't let her breach them.

I wouldn't allow myself to.

"Bring it on." I grabbed the controller.

Two minutes later, my phone vibrated again. I told myself to leave it, but I picked it up.

I need your help. I'm at the police station.

The message didn't compute until I saw the name. I swore under my breath.

"What's wrong?" Eddie asked.

Be there in 5 minutes, I typed. I'm home right now.

Yeah? You're there all the time, aren't you? Not like when you went to Italy and didn't talk to us for months and we thought you died or something

I'd been doing atonement since I came back. I didn't know if it would ever end.

I shoved the phone in my pocket. "I need to go get Nick," I told Eddie.

His face crumpled. "He's in trouble?"

"Yeah. Don't tell Dad."

"I won't."

"Go to sleep, bud." I patted his shoulder. "You need your rest."

"Can I come?"

"No. Go to bed. Everything's going to be okay. I'll see you in the morning."

The police station was quick. They knew Nick at this point. I paid the three-hundred-dollar fine for his latest crime — vandalism — with the money I'd earmarked for Jennie. The officer remarked on how much we looked alike and told him he was lucky to have a big sister who took care of him. That he was lucky he was under eighteen and for the next infraction, he'd be facing juvenile court. That he should follow my example. Nick was swaggering and cheerful in the station, sullen in the car. He didn't say thank you.

"Don't ever do this again," I told him when we got home.

"Yeah?" he snarled. "You gonna get on my case about my curfew next? My allowance? "

"If I need to."

He sauntered ahead of me into the kitchen, filling the doorway with his shoulders, and swiped the bills off the table. "Cool, Dad left money. It's been awhile. I'd hate to have to turn to shoplifting. It's bad for my record."

I didn't correct him. I had a feeling Nick knew where that money really came from.

"Leave some for Eddie," I ordered. He grunted and dropped two of the bills on the table. "And save the rest. You're not going anywhere this weekend."

"'Scuse me?"

"You're grounded."

"Are you out of your fucking mind? You're not in charge here."

I walked up to him and got in his face. "You want me to tell Dad what happened tonight? That you'll go to jail if you screw up again?"

"He doesn't care!" A vein bulged in Nick's neck. He jabbed a finger in my chest. His brown eyes were too bright and hectic. Looking at Nick was like looking at a younger version of myself, without the brakes. All the destructive impulses acted on instead of hidden. "You don't care either. You just pretend to so you can control us."

Turning to leave, he kicked the sketchpad I'd left by the wall.

I grabbed the pad and held it tight. It was instinct. Nick's eyes flickered, and quick as lightning, he yanked the pad out of my grasp and flipped up the cover.

"Holy shit." He stared at the charcoal sketch of Jennie's naked body. "Who's that?"

I slapped the cover down and wrested the pad from him. Nick made a grab for it again.

"This is yours? You drew that? Who is she?"

I couldn't blame him for reacting. I'd sketched Jennie a lot over the past few weeks, and the drawings weren't the sexless nudes you'd do in an art class. They were right after we fucked, and it showed on every inch of her skin. She was shameless now. Magnetic.

"That's not your concern."

"Come on, man." He spread his arms wide. "Not my concern? You're here all the time now, you try to get involved with us after a year of no fucking communication, you make us your concern, but everything about you is off-limits?"

"My life is private."

"Private? Shit, there's privacy, and then there's you leaving the country and disappearing!" He grabbed my shirt. "Since when are you a goddamn artist who draws naked chicks? What are you doing in this expensive shirt? Who paid for it? Who the hell are you? You tell us nothing, and you expect us to follow your rules?" He smacked my shoulder, hard, and tried to wrestle the sketchpad away from me.

Red flared in front of my eyes. I threw the pad on the table and pushed him against the wall. "What do you mean, 'us?' You only care about yourself. You don't look out for Eddie, you don't look out for Dad—"

"They're fine! Christ, Eddie's fifteen. He only acts like a baby because you treat him like one."

As if he'd heard his name, Eddie appeared in the doorway.

"What's wrong?" His eyes were big in his thin face.

"Nothing." I released Nick, who glared at me. "Everything's fine. Go to sleep."

"Nothing," Nick mimicked under his breath. "That's right. Everything's fucking fine."

"Nick, are you okay?" Eddie looked like he was going to cry. "Did you get in trouble?"

"Don't worry about it, Ed," Nick muttered. "Not your problem."

Nick shut himself up in his room. I walked Eddie down the hall and told him one last time to go to bed. In the living room, my dad was sound asleep in the recliner. As he snored, I turned off the TV.

My own room was frozen in time. High school wrestling trophies, a couple of sports posters and a chaste pinup of an airbrushed blonde in a bikini.

On the bed was a quilt my mom made when I was a kid.

I should have burned it.

I couldn't.

I opened the window to let in the damp night air and unbuttoned my shirt. In Rome, I'd lived off of Yoona, but I'd bought my own clothes. Nick was right, though — the shirt was expensive. After years of denial, all I'd wanted to do in Italy was indulge.

I'd gotten the shirt last spring. But as I stripped it off, it still gave me satisfaction to feel the fabric, admire the fine quality and the pale shade of gray.

Kicking off my shoes, I stretched out on the bed. Paying Nick's fine left me strapped. That and fixing the roof would drive a painful wedge into my savings.

I should cut down on my time with Jennie. She was my biggest expense. My guilty pleasure, my only luxury now.

When I got out my phone, there were no new texts.

She was so far away. I wanted to feel her soft skin, smell her clean scent, stare into her bottomless eyes. Hear her filthy mouth. Crush her body locked with mine, a potent mix of jiggle and muscle.

Instead of turning my phone off, I tapped her name.

"Hello?" She answered immediately, breathless and excited. "Lisa?"

"What would you do?"

"What?"

"What would you do to make my birthday wishes come true?"

She inhaled and hesitated. "I'm not alone," she whispered. Her voice was scratchy from the game. "I'm sharing a room with three other girls."

"Are they asleep?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

"Lisa…"

"Tell me, Jennie."

"I'd bake you a cake," she said, saucy, like she was being so funny. "A layer cake. Do you like chocolate? Cookies aren't the only thing I can make."

I waited.

"And I'd read to you. You've been reading me so many nice bedtime stories, now that I'm bringing books to your room. I think it's your turn. Maybe I'd even sketch you and you could laugh at my sorry drawing skills. Ooh, and I'd make you breakfast…"

"And?" I put an edge in my question.

"I'd kiss you," she whispered. "Everywhere. And — I'd suck you."

Fuck, I was hard. Just a few simple words in her husky voice, and I was blind with lust.

"Where?" I asked mercilessly.

"Your cock." I could feel her blush through the phone. "You can go deep again."

"Aren't you a good girl. What if that's not enough for my birthday?"

"Then I'd do whatever you want."

The room dimmed as power flooded in, heady and intoxicating. I wanted to pull her in and devour her. Keep her. Disappear in her.

"You should be very careful when you make that offer, Jennie," I said softly.

"I trust you."

What the fuck had I done to earn her trust?

Why did that mean everything to me?

"Touch yourself," I ordered.

I waited for her to protest that she was sharing a room, that she couldn't possibly, that I was asking too much.

"Okay." Her acquiescence came in a rush, so nakedly sweet, even shy. I unzipped my pants.

"Are you wet, sweetheart?"

She moaned and immediately stifled it. I curled my fingers around my aching cock.

"Very," she whispered.

I was afraid of how much I wanted her. In every way.

"Such a good little slut." She stifled another moan. "I'm thinking about how beautiful your pussy is. I want you to see how many fingers you can fit in your tight little cunt. It won't even begin to prepare you for what I'll do to you on Monday."

She whimpered. I had her in the palm of my hand. But fuck, she had me in hers too. A bead of liquid oozed out the tip of my cock. Delirious, I felt her pink tongue lapping it up.

"Is it going to hurt?" she panted.

"Yes, Jennie. It is."

Her breath sped up. I grunted, my fist moving faster. I'd been waiting to fuck her for days.

"Lisa, I'm close…"

"Of course you are."

All I heard were the little sounds she kept trying to cover. I soaked them up, thirsty for more, gulping her desire with an appetite that would never be slaked.

"Talk to me," she pleaded.

"You know what I'm thinking about, sweetheart?" At the pet name, she let out a shaky breath. "I'm thinking about tying you up. Coming all over that soft, sweet body. Over and over, while I tease your greedy little cunt. I'd enjoy seeing you struggling to handle that much mess, when you couldn't do a thing about it. My cum dripping down your tight nipples, your tummy, your hungry pussy, your pretty face…all that long dark hair that you put so much time into getting to look just right…all covered in my cum. Everywhere, marking you as mine. Mine."

She gasped. I knew she was coming. I hissed mine again, tightening the web around both of us, jerking my cock until cum spurted out.

My hand fell to my side as I panted for breath. I heard her murmur my name. Softly — adoringly.

Jesus. I was losing it. Come Monday, I'd be cold with her. Forceful, but controlled. Taking her to her limits while staying far away from mine.

"Are you having a happy birthday, Lisa?" she asked quietly. She already knew the answer.

"I'm a year older. It happens to everyone."

"I promise I'll make you happy when I'm back. 'Night." She blew a kiss and hung up.