Chapter 59

She shifted and plopped down on the edge of the bed without a care, panties on full display to throw off my focus. I could see her bush from where I was sitting on the floor.

"Yeah, but then you got behind me saying you wanted to hook up with me," I shot back, all pissy, my voice louder than I meant.

"So..." she sighed, legs spread wide and tying her hair back. "The guy went nuts after that. He bugged the hell out of me about it. Every day he wanted me to call you, invite you over for 'something casual,' set up another 'accidental' meetup. You know?"

"Son of a bitch," I said more to back her up than out of anger.

"Yeah. To be honest, I even thought about it," she leaned toward me, elbows on her knees, face in her hands. "But, fuck! You're my 'cousin.' Way too young, my little baby."

And she chucked a pillow at my face.

"Oh, come on... you always hated Mariana and me!"

"Hated? Nah, crazy. I love you guys. It's just that you're what? Two—almost three—years younger than me. I wanted to date and you two kept busting my balls."

Her sitting there with her legs spread at eye level was starting to piss me off; I smacked her thigh.

"Close your legs, girl. Have some manners! I can see your pussy from here."

Carla flopped back on the bed and gave me a peek at her ass, her panties barely holding in her goods and her skirt now looking like a damn belt.

"You sound just like my dad, fuck. Stop staring at my pussy, damn it!"

That was one of the reasons people talked shit about her in the family: Carla had no manners. She always had the hottest body and was the one who wore the least when jumping in the pool at our place. We were raised hearing that with guys around—even family—you cover up and don't just lounge in a bikini like an idiot. "Men are no good," my mom would say. I never got it much, thought "if he wants to look, let him look, fuck it," but I grew up with that rule and got used to it.

Not Carla. She knew everyone was looking—and worse, she put on a show. She'd dance, shake her ass, play to the crowd.

"Jully, you're such a little dyke, girl," she let out laughing, with a sly edge that was a trap.

"You're one too, and I know it," I fired back, because, yeah... we'd already hooked up.

She shot a quick glance at the door, like she was plotting a coup.

"And come on... you and Mariana? You hook up?"

The question hit me like a punch to the gut. She's not dumb—she either figured it out or someone spilled. I couldn't rat out Mariana, and with that bitch Carla, I didn't trust her a hundred percent. I lied, badly, but I tried.

"No... Mariana's straight, come on. She's got a boyfriend and everything!"

"Where's Mariana got a boyfriend and nobody knows, Jully? Go lie to someone else!"

I was cornered and went on the offensive.

"And you? You actually hook up with girls, do everything?"

"I do, but I prefer guys. I miss dick so much!" she burst out laughing, finally fixing her skirt.

"And your boyfriend? Doesn't that piss him off?"

"Hell no. His golden dream is to bring in a friend," she made a naughty face, hinting at the reason. "Get it?"

"Yeah... and that almost friend was me," I laughed, nervous.

"But kinda was, right, Jully..." she smiled, her laugh turning curious. "You were really a virgin? Never done anything?"

"Nothing. Zilch. Pure and untouched."

"Damn, girl... so I ruined you," she got serious, looking at me. "Sorry, cousin. I should've gotten you out of there. Sometimes I feel guilty."

"Don't, cousin. After that, a lot happened. It's not even that big a deal anymore."

Saying that was a catharsis—new word I picked up online, but that's exactly it. Speaking it out loud gave me a click: I understood myself better, accepted my story more, and saw myself closer to the woman I want to be.

"So that means Miss Julia is the newest slut in the family?" she said in a teasing tone, more affectionate than mean.

"Looks like it, huh? I stole your spot!"

I laughed to myself and she got serious all of a sudden. Looked at the door, thought, turned back to me.

"But I'd totally hook up with you, cousin."

Fuck. That hit me hard. I always thought it was just messing around, dumb bullying to make me blush. But now she was right there, looking into me, saying that shit to my face.

I got hot, flushed, not knowing where to put my hands.

"Whoa, giiiiirl..." I laughed, totally awkward.

Carla stood up, went straight to my closet and yanked the door open like she owned the place.

"What do you want in my closet, crazy?" I said, pissed at her nerve.

"Wet wipe," she was already digging through my makeup, messing with my stuff without asking. "Found it."

She grabbed a wipe, turned sideways to the mirror and started rubbing her mouth, carefully taking off the lipstick.

"Why are you taking off the lipstick?" I asked, curious.

"Because it smears too much."

"Okay, I know it smears... but you're already wearing it. Fix it if it smears. And it wasn't even smudged."

She leaned closer to the mirror, focused on wiping away the dark red.

"But it will smear."

I didn't get it until she finished, folded the wipe and tossed it in the trash. Then she went to the door, turned the key, checked it twice to make sure it was locked and came toward me. She sat on my lap without asking, her warm weight, her sweet scent right in my face.

I froze.

"I don't want you all smeared with my lipstick when your mom gets here, Jully."

She said it low, her mouth almost brushing mine. My skin prickled all over. Her hands came to my face, light, and for a second I only heard my own breath, caught, ragged. The tip of her nose brushed mine. The room shrank. And before I could think of anything, Carla smiled that way that always undid me and whispered:

"You gotta be smart, cousin."

And she kissed me.

Carla's kiss had personality, grip. It was firm, hot, right on target, the kind that takes over and grabs you from the inside. The weight of her body on my lap lit me up: her thighs squeezing my sides, her hips locked against mine, the heat seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes. Her belly pressed against mine, her chest grazed my chin, and I caught her skin smelling like some fancy lotion from a magazine I knew and liked, mixed with a hint of sweet perfume. She was owning it up there, and that's exactly how it felt: I wasn't "exchanging" kisses, I was being kissed, led, following the rhythm she set.

Carla's mouth was soft and determined. First she pressed her lips, testing, then caught my bottom lip between her teeth, a light bite that pulled a sound from me. Her tongue followed, slow, asking entry and taking it, tracing my teeth, mapping my mouth from the inside like learning a route. She switched between pressure and sweetness: sucking, nibbling, pulling back a millimeter and coming back hungrier, always in control, and I was melting under her lead, hands lost not knowing where to hold, letting the kiss break me down completely.

It hadn't even been thirty seconds of kissing and I felt my panties soaked through and my mind slipping away.