A Promise to my Stepbrother (6 page)

I
did
my best to be casual, but Katie was standing at the top of the steps, and the sun was setting and reflecting off the lake and through the huge glass windows that covered the front of the house. The result was that she was backlit, and I could see every curve of her body through the thin dress. Since I was only wearing a towel I did my best to move things along. I turned to walk, only pausing to look back to tell her thank you.

She had turned, as well, and I could see her profile perfectly through the backlit sun dress. She was incredibly beautiful and breathtakingly hot.

No one knew Katie better than me. She was kind, generous, smart, strong, and all of those things you would applaud in a strong young woman, so why was I thinking of her naked? I should be thinking of her as all those other things. Beautiful for sure, but not hot. She was my sister, after all.

As with so many other moments at the lake house, this trip was going to be torture.

T
he lake house
had a lot of room for everything except, oddly enough, dining. So Mom, Dad, Katie, and I were crowded around a small square table for a very late dinner. I sat across from Katie, while Mom and Dad sat across from each other. Thank God Katie had changed into a cotton shirt and jeans or I would have stabbed myself with a fork while staring at her.

Everyone tended to fold their legs under their chairs due to the room, but I was too tall, so I had to stretch my legs out, which put them under Katie’s chair. After the third time she kicked me, she replied, “Oh, so sorry, Max!” I then felt her slide her feet under my legs and then cross her legs at the ankle. Her legs were basically holding mine in an embrace.

“Is that better?” she asked, smiling. Oh God. How the heck was I going to be able to spend three days with her if her just squeezing my legs with her ankles was making it difficult for me to breath?

We did a lot of reminiscing, and most of the conversation focused on how lucky we all were that Mom and Dad had found themselves after awful marriages, but the whole thing was uncomfortable for me. At one point Mom looked at me and said, “And I’m just so thankful that you were able to have such a wonderful sister.”

I looked at Katie. She smiled the sweetest smile and then squeezed her legs against mine. I knew she had no interest in me and that she meant it only as a friendly gesture, but it drove me crazy all over again.

“Max?” My mom interrupted my thoughts, and I noticed her looking at me quizzically.

“I’m not sure I can put into words how much Katie means to me, Mom. I am so grateful that you and Dad found each other.” From the smiles around the table I knew that I must have nailed it. Katie was staring at me, and I could see the love in her eyes, and I tried to convince myself that it was more than just sisterly or friendly love.

Maybe she felt the same way. I knew it wasn’t true, of course, but I clung to hope, unreasonable as it may have been. Hell, the whole day was one comment about us being brother and sister after another. If there was one thing that I assumed would freak Katie out about us being a couple it would be Mom and Dad seeing us as brother and sister. And if I were honest with myself, it bothered me a lot, too. What would Mom and Dad say if they learned we wanted to date or, God forbid, live together?

She squeezed my legs again and said, “No offense to you two, Mom and Dad, but Max is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She was staring at me as she said it. Her hazel eyes, complex and beautiful just like she was, were entirely focused on me.

It was at that point where I decided to ask her about the promise she had made five years earlier. It was such a childlike thing—a promise to French kiss when we turned eighteen if we never had before then—but I was desperate. I guess I hoped that the kiss would lead to more, as unlikely as that sounded.

I didn’t want to be the one to bring up the promise as she was the one who made it, but I wasn’t even sure if she remembered it, and my hope was that I could introduce it as a fun and innocent rite-of-passage that would close the chapter of our childhood.

Before I fell asleep I walked through all the scenarios where I could bring it up without making her suspicious of my intentions. The trouble was that I was rather analytical, and I had to assess every possible scenario, and each one drove me crazy in a different way.

For example, what if we realized we wanted to be together? That would have been great, right? Well, that created its own problems. Soon she would be leaving for RISD while I would be at UCLA. And our parents? They would disown us for sure.

I tried not to think about the vague potential of a future together. Such a dream worked when we were thirteen. Back then I grasped a stupid little promise, a promise that seemed more innocent and sad as each year passed by—but it sustained me. What could possibly sustain me now? We would be two thousand miles away for four years.

In the end, I rejected my fear and sadness over our separation and focused on hope. Wonderful innocent hope, borne of a small promise that Katie made to me when we didn’t have to think of a future.

A
fter I had seen
Max naked I retreated to my room, opened a book, and did everything I possibly could to forget everything from the previous thirty minutes.

But I couldn’t.

So when Mom called us down for a late dinner, I was still a mess of desire and emotions. And then Max slid his legs between mine, and I just about fainted. I moved my legs out of the way, but after the third time his legs stroked mine as he stretched I wondered if he was doing it on purpose. The thought that he was being so provocative as to send a sexual message while sitting right next to our parents confused me and yet thrilled me. Why would he be doing that? Was that what he was actually doing?

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wrapped my legs around Max’s, with them resting on my crossed ankles. I couldn’t think of a more blatant message that I wanted to hold him in a way that was more than just a hug, but as I looked at him, he barely acknowledged it. It was as if he was just glad that I was no longer kicking him.

As dinner went on I didn’t give up. I told him I loved him and squeezed his legs, but there was no response from him. In fact, more than anything, he looked uncomfortable. At that point, I was desperate, so I decided that the next time we were alone I would bring up the promise I made to him when we were thirteen. I doubt he even remembered it. The last time it was mentioned was during our blow ups over Holly and Jeremy, and that was just a passing mention.

But it was something. I would mention the promise, say something funny about it being important to keep promises, Max would laugh, and then we would kiss. I didn’t know what I would do at that point, but I that was kind of how I lived my life—dive in and learn how to swim later.

Dinner was frustrating and almost sad. Max seemed detached, even bored. I excused myself as soon as I could and fled to my room. I picked up my book, but my thoughts keep wandering back to Max and the promise. What would the kiss be like? Would it be soft and sweet and amazing? Or would it be awkward and awful?

What if he looked horrified? That thought depressed and scared me. The emotional maelstrom didn’t end until sleep. I drifted off with my heart full of hope that we would finally bring our relationship to the place I had hoped for since we hit puberty, while petrified that Max would irrevocably slam that door shut.

W
e all slept
in the next morning, although Max’s idea of sleeping in was getting up for a swim at eight o’clock instead of six. When I finally stumbled down for breakfast at ten, he was sitting at the small table with a cup of coffee talking to Mom and Dad, who also had just awoken.

“I made a good old fashioned American breakfast,” Max said, nodding toward the stove. There were three plates with eggs, bacon, and pancakes.

“Awesome!” I replied, grabbing a good helping of each. Frustration and nervousness made me hungry apparently.

“Kids—” Dad called us kids even though we were now adults. I had the feeling he’d call us kids even when we were forty. “—Your Mom and I are going to go down to the farmer’s market for a few hours this afternoon. Do you want to come?”

I couldn’t believe my luck. Max and I would be alone for a few hours? The timing was
perfect
. “No thanks, Dad. You know I’m not the ‘browse for kale’ type.” Dad actually seemed relieved. I guess he was going to see it as a romantic couple thing for him and Mom.

“Me neither,” Max replied. “I’ll just hang out with Katie.”

“Oh, that’s sweet. A brother/sister afternoon together!” Mom exclaimed, the comment about Max being my brother only partially killed my excitement.

I cleaned up and did the dishes while Max went with Dad to clear out the boathouse, which must have been a disaster after months of no upkeep.

“Good enough,” Dad said as they walked through the front door.

“Oh, that must have been way better than I thought. You don’t look dusty at all,” I said as Dad came into the living room.

“Ha, that’s because Max wouldn’t let me do anything.” Max entered rubbing his hands on his jeans. He was a mess. He had cobwebs and dust all over and what looked like charcoal smeared on the side of his head.

“Oh dude, you so badly need a shower,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking down at his torso and legs. He then looked up at me and smiled broadly. “Hey, why don’t I just get cleaned up in the lake. You and I could go swimming while Dad and Mom are out doing their thing.”

“That’s a great idea, Max!” Mom exclaimed. “Katie, did you bring a suit?” They knew that I wasn’t that fond of swimming. Actually, what I really wasn’t that fond of was swim suits. I had the kind of body that either caused boys to stare or make a rude comment. Let’s just say I filled out a bikini.

“Yeah, I did,” I answered tentatively.

“Great!” Max replied. “I’ll meet you down at the pier in like ten minutes.”

I walked up to my room with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. I had brought a skimpy yellow bikini for no other reason than I had never considered I’d be wearing it. Swimming in the lake was Max’s thing.

I bought it on a whim when one of my girlfriends and I went shopping, and she pushed me to get it in a “take advantage of your assets” type of moment. “You look totally hot in that,” she said. Well, it sounded like a good idea at the time.

But I had done it without any expectation that I would actually be alone with Max while wearing it. The sudden reality of it made me self-conscious.

I pulled it out of the suitcase—I hadn’t even bothered unpacking it—and slipped it on. I looked at myself in the full length mirror. It was everything that I wasn’t—provocative, sexy, and stylish.

It wasn’t a thong, but the material rode up my butt and showed off my curves in a way that was just as daring. The top fit well but was designed for maximum cleavage exposure. I re-arranged my breasts a kazillion times trying for the best look, but in the end I had to admit that I really didn’t need the help.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t think I looked like a sister. I wondered if that’s how Max would see me. I grabbed a towel and walked to the pier.

Max was already up to his waist in the water next to the pier, with droplets of water sliding down his head and chest. God, he was gorgeous.

I wandered out to him. “Shit, this is cold!” I said.

“Ha, this is nothing. You should try swim practice in January.”

“No thanks.” He laughed, and then I added, “Hey, you clean up well.”

He looked confused and then replied, “Oh, the dust and shit. Yeah, that boat house should be condemned.”

“Dad will
never
go for that.”

Max nodded, and then pointed out to the buoy about fifty yards out into the lake. “Race you to the buoy?” He started jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. “I’ll even give you a half-way lead.”

“No way.” His face fell. “Three-quarters lead!” His face lit up.

“Go ahead then. I’ll just stand here and watch you.”

There was something about how he said he was going watch me that made me shiver. “You are so going to lose,” I replied as I dove into the water.

He had no chance of beating me. Sure, he was a Division I swimmer, but a three quarters head start on what looked like a fifty-yard distance? Yeah, he had no chance. I was looking forward to watching him approach while I floated near the buoy. I may have had a huge crush on him, but he was still my best friend, and a rivalry is a rivalry.

Halfway to the buoy I heard splashing. I looked over my shoulder and Max was swimming away from the shore. “Omigod, you cheater!” I yelled out, pushing myself harder. I still had a twenty-five-yard head start or so, which I thought was still enough to win.

I was a good swimmer, but not remotely in Max’s class. I kept glancing over my shoulder, and he was gaining on me so fast it seemed otherworldly. I stopped looking back and just strained on reaching the buoy.

I felt a hand on my calf as I kicked, but it slipped off. “You jerk, no pulling me under!” I replied. It was an old trick of his, and the fact he uncorked it after all these years made me smile. I kicked harder hoping that my foot would hit his arm.

And then I felt his hand grab my butt, his fingers sliding along the cheeks. Then they were gone.

“Oh man, I’m so sorry, Katie! I was trying to grab your leg!” Max had stopped and was treading water behind me. I took advantage of his embarrassment and raced to the finish.

I reached the buoy, turned around and yelled out to him. “Yo loser. I beat you even with you cheating.” Max shook his head and swam toward me.

The way his arms cut through the water with such precision and how his body almost slid along the top was awe-inspiring. He reached me in no time. He looked almost scared.

“Look, Katie, I’m so sorry about…” We were both treading water, our heads the only thing above the water line.

“Grabbing my ass?” I smiled, hoping he would get the message that I didn’t mind.

“Uh, yeah. I was trying to pull you back.” He was way too self-conscious for a best friend. So I decided to fall back on the tried and true—teasing him.

“Hey, I’m your best friend. If you wanted to know what a girl’s ass felt like you should have just asked.” He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. He looked really uncomfortable, and I was worried that he would retreat into a mortified shell, so I just went for it, more out of desperation than any grand strategy. “Actually, that reminds me.”

“What’s that?”

“Remember the promise I made when we were thirteen?” This was it, the moment I had thought about off and on for years. If he said anything other than yes, I would have died a little inside.

“Sure. We’re to French kiss each other if we hadn’t experienced it by now.”

“Well, you may cheat in a race, and you may sneak a grab of my butt—”

“Hey! That was an accident!” His response, which was more of shocked indignation than hurt feelings or embarrassment bolstered my confidence.

I held my hand above the water, palm out. “Whatever. You’re sneaky and a cheat, but
I
, at least, stick to my promises. So, assuming that you haven’t French kissed a girl yet—and knowing your reputation with girls, I find that highly unlikely—I think that we should head to the shore and kiss right now.” I don’t know where my confidence came from, but I wanted to kiss Max so badly that the words seemed to just come naturally. Max was staring at me, quiet, rapt in attention.

I reached my hand out and placed my forefinger against his lips while staring at him intensely. “Don’t lie,” I said, and before I could pull my finger away, he kissed it on the tip.

“Of course I remember your promise.” He paused, and the silence was killing me. Max, as he always did, was measuring his words. He shook his head. “Oh shit, Katie, I’ve been thinking about it pretty much nonstop for five years.” I stared at him. He reached out and put his palm against the side of my face, just like he did on that day five years earlier. “There’s not been a day that I haven’t wanted to kiss you like that.”

“We need to get to shore,” I whispered.

“Race you!” he replied, and then proceeded to walk out of the water while I was still thirty yards from the shore.