“Sit down, Wes,” Capri said sneaking up from behind me.

“Holy mother of Ludicrous!” I jumped back at her surprise attack in the dark. I twisted around to find her. She took a step out of the shadow of the overhang, and my jaw fell at the sight of Capri stalking careful steps toward me. Daayyuumm. Yep, my best friend’s sister was smokin’. She kicked one of the wooden chairs my way.

“Sit down,” she demanded.

“Okay,” I said. Something in her tone told me not to question her. She was scary, and hot. Scary hot. I quickly slid into the chair. Was this really happening? I didn’t expect her to go through with it. That was a lie. She never turned down a challenge from me.

Capri reached her hand up to pull her hair loose from its braid. Her tank slipped up revealing the side of her stomach. I whined at the sheer perfection of it. Not too firm but just soft enough for me to take a bite. I stomped my feet and looked away. August’s sister. August’s sister.

The sound of music snapped my attention back to Capri. She stood in front of me and tucked her thumbs into the waistband of her tiny shorts. Her hips began to move back and forth with the beat.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

My head followed their movement.

Left. Right. Left.

I licked my lips, but my tongue was too dry to do anything. Capri took a calculated step toward me and turned so that her ass was right in my face. Let me repeat that. Capri’s ass was in my fuckin’ face, and it was fancy just like the song said, so fancy, and round, and in my face. Out of nowhere, it jumped up at me. I jolted back and watched, opening my eyes as wide as I could get them to take in all its glory. What. Was. Happening?

I should probably stop this. Any respectful man would stop this. She wiggled her little ass all over the place right there in front of me.

Hell to the yeah. I sat back and attempted to lick my lips again. This time I was more successful in pulling my tongue back in before I drooled on myself. I crossed my arms over my chest and spread my legs wide on either side of her gyrating tiny body, settling in comfortably for the show.

She turned around and took another step closer before reaching her arms up in the air and snaking her body to the ground.

Her foot slipped from under her, and she fell to the side grabbing onto my leg to keep herself from landing on the floor. I reached down and caught her arm in my hand. Her eyes shot up to me and my own zeroed in on hers. That was all it took. One look from deep in those deep brown eyes and the shenanigans were over. Shit just got real.

“Honey, I’m home!”

“In my room!” I shouted out to Lennon from deep within my closet. I arranged my dresses over the black portfolio and placed my Betsy Johnson suitcase in front.

I’d woken up that morning with a mild headache and a lot of confusion. I’d been tucked in so tightly that I could barely move my arms and legs. When I had broken free, I saw that I was still in the same pair of shorts and white sequin tank I had worn the night before. On the bedside table next to me was a glass of water and a note that read:

Sleep Tight, Fancy.

Whatever that meant.

All signs pointed to me drinking too much, and Wes bringing me home as promised. What I wasn’t sure of was what exactly went down before he brought me home and tucked me in tighter than a drag queen squeezing into a mini skirt. Hence, the need to paint in an attempt to regain my memory of the night’s previous events.

“My eyes.” Lennon pained when she came in. “You’re a few padded walls away from forgetting color even exists.” I stiffened at her words with my hand molded around the closet doorknob.

“How is an all-white room different from your all-black attire?” I gestured toward her tiny self—decked out in black tights, black shorts, and a black shirt with some band’s name written across it.

“I’m a tortured soul. I surround myself in black. You, however, are too far from virginal to shroud yourself in so much white.” She plopped down onto my bed, wedge boots and all. Little did Lennon know, my colorless existence had nothing to do with portraying innocence. It was simply all I knew.

I perched back on top of my stool and swiveled around to face Lennon, who had now made herself entirely too comfortable on my bed and was poking around in my nightstand drawer.

“You won’t find anything you haven’t seen before in there,” I say amused by her snooping. She pulled out a rubber round ring and wiggled it in the air.

“You need a man who won’t require you to use one of these.” She tossed in back into the drawer.

She pulled out my pink Lelo, and I blushed at the memory of who’d been on my mind the last time I’d used it.

“And we need to find you a man who matches this in size. Damn.” She gave it a wiggle to match her eyebrow waggle and tossed in back into the drawer with my other goodies. I hadn’t been with anyone since Tanner months ago. I’d become increasingly picky about who I’d date since him, which was new for me. Usually, I dated a lot and often. I found I got less attention as a part of a couple. Of course, it could be that I choose to be with guys who happily took the attention while I could sit on the sidelines.

“Your parents gone again?” she asked abandoning my drawer and kicking off her boots to the side of my bed.

“Yeah, came home two nights ago and left early this morning to head to an orphanage in Mexico for a long weekend.” I guess they were already gone when Wes brought me home. A little part of me was disappointed that he hadn’t taken me back to his place, but then again, that was not exactly something you’d do with your best friend’s little sister. Take her home. Or get her drunk, but that clearly happened.

“What’s that noise?” Lennon asked. I listened closely to the melodic sound she was hearing.

“It sounds like a song,” I said walking to my room with my ear lowered, trying to find its source.

“It’s coming from your bag.” Lennon dangled from my bed with her ear to the floor.

I opened my bag and pulled out my phone. It was playing “Whatta Man” by Salt-N-Pepa loud and proud. I held the phone out at arms’ length. “Oh, c’mon,” I said turning the ringer off and shaking my head at the photo of Wes sticking his tongue out on my phone.

Lennon’s laugh burst into my ear from where she’d suddenly appeared behind me, and I jerked away from her. Of course, now she got up. “What a man, indeed. When did he sneak that on your phone?” I set the phone down on my desk.

“I’m assuming last night. That’s what I get for having too many drinks.” I held my hand up wondering why the shine of my nail polish I’d just put on yesterday had already dulled.

“So, you two were together last night? I thought you had a date with that dweeb from the shelter.”

“I did. It was awful. We went to Tommy’s and Wes was there. When the date was cut short, he and I hung out a bit longer.” I looked up from where I was picking at my nails to Lennon. She crossed her arm across her chest smugly. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what? I’m just looking. This is how I look.” She lifted her arm in the air before pointing at me. “You are the one who seems to feel guilt from my look. Why? What did you do with Wes that would have you feeling guilty?”

“Nothing.” I didn’t think.

“You’re so busted! Wes took you to the candy shop!”

“What?” I asked sitting down on my art stool.

“You tickled his Twizzler! You let him into your Fun Dip!”

“Oh, my God, Lennon!” I shouted and scrunched my face at her.

“You did! You tapped the Tootsie!” She clapped her hands and bounced on her toes in excitement.