OnceAmeliaissafelyinside, I get back into the Jacuzzi and slowly sink into the water until it reaches my ears.
What are you doing in there?
What did she think I was doing in here? I'm reluctant to admit this, but I wanted to see what became of my wicked stepsister in the last ten years.
My mom and I exchanged many emails over the last decade, some filled with updates on Amelia as they became relevant. Last I heard, she moved in with her boyfriend and lived happily ever after.
This morning, when Bruce put her situation in black-and-white terms, I rejoiced. Why else would she be home? I was baiting her earlier when I said her crap was near the front door, and she took it willingly.
Who knew she'd be so witty at this age? It's kind of fun arguing with her now that I'm older. Back then, I was usually too meek to say what I really wanted. She won every disagreement.
She definitely won't now.
Seeing her this morning was quite a shock. She was always cute when we were teenagers. I don't think people at her high school appreciated how unique and adorable she was. Maybe because I had the brief pleasure of living alongside her, so I got to see her quirky personality with her father.
But I had to leave the room to put a shirt onandadjust my dick so I wasn't giving off the impression she made me hard seeing her in her barely-there pajamas. What a reunion it was.
The temptation is going to be difficult. But she'll find a job as soon as possible and leave like she was never even home. I won't see her again for another ten years, and by then, she'll be happily married with two or three babies.
As for me, I still need to figure out what the hell I'm going to do.
When my mom told me Amelia was coming back, I booked the fastest flight I could so I had the opportunity to see her. Just a little white lie.
For the past decade, Amelia has been avoiding me. Anytime I said I wasn't coming home for the holidays, she would. And when my mom told me she wasn't, I came anyway, hoping I'd catch her in a lie. Every time she purposely avoided me, I wanted to see her even more.
Things weren't great the last time we saw each other. Hell, they weren't great for the three months we lived together and before that.
My mom and Bruce getting married was a shock to both of us, and I know neither was ready to replace the parent we lost. I'mstillmourning my dad and losing him the way we did.
I spent a lot of time in South America soul searching and trying to devote my time to helping others since I was completely lost. But I'd be lying if I didn't think about Amelia while I was away.
Amelia was my first real crush, and it hurt, knowing she was my stepsister and off-limits.
No one understood what it was like to lose their parent at my age. I thought we could have been friends or maybe a support system for each other. But that was out of the question the minute we met.
I'm still harboring some untouched emotions that manifest into new anxieties, and one day, I will address them. But not right now.
Because Amelia and I are back under the same roof. And I'm not the pudgy loser anymore.
She is still as gorgeous as ever. She's older, but in a good way. Her curves are more refined and fit our age now. She's not the scrawny, well-endowed goody-goody she used to be. She's voluptuous, enticing, and still manages to make me hold my breath when she's near.
Amelia grew into her hips and breasts. When she approached in her beige bikini, I had to clench my fists, because I thought at first glance she was naked. Being in such close proximity to such a beautiful woman who hates me was torture.
I've had my share of women over the years, but the one I want most is the one I'll never have. First crushes hit hard, and I'm feeling the residual emotions of my adolescence.
Exiting the Jacuzzi, I grab my towel and wrap it around my waist, then peel off my shorts and let them sit out to dry in the sun tomorrow.
Walking back to the house, I peer up at Amelia's bedroom window and balcony. Her light is on, but I can't see what she's doing. Probably booking a hotel, if I knew her well enough. Which I don't. Not before and definitely not now.
I lock up the rest of the house and head to my room.
I'm tempted to knock on her door, but I am wrapped in a towel, practically naked, and I don't want to make her more uncomfortable. I already apologized for feeling her up.
The image of her creamy white breast and light pink nipple will be burned into my core memories.
"Stop," I tell myself as I'm at the top of the stairs.
Suddenly, Amelia's door bursts open. "Who's out there?"
