Chapter 11: The Studio

The stairs up to the studio were narrow and dark.

Romy took them two at a time, holding my hand, and I followed with my shoes squelching.

At the top she unlocked the door and pulled me inside.

The room smelled like paper and old wood.

Rain tapped on the tall windows.

The prints on the wall looked down at us, a hundred strangers in the middle of their best days.

Romy shut the door with her back, and for a moment we just stood and looked at each other.

Our clothes were soaked through.

Her shirt clung to her ribs, and mine clung to me, and neither of us pretended not to notice.

"You're shaking," she said.

"So are you."

"I'm cold."

"You are not."

She laughed, a short breathless laugh, and then she crossed the room and took my face in both hands.

This time she kissed me slowly.

It was a different kind of kiss, deep and unhurried.

I let go of everything.

I let her walk me backward to the old couch under the window.

I let her peel my wet cardigan off my shoulders and drop it on the floor, and I pulled at the buttons of her vest.

Her hands were cold at first, then warm, then everywhere.

"Tell me what you want," she said against my neck.

"You."

"Specifically."

"Take your shirt off," I said, and she laughed against my skin, and did.

I looked at her in the gray light.

She was long and lean and tan, with a freckled collarbone and a small faded scar on her hip.

She had a tattoo of a tiny compass behind her ear that I had not seen.

I touched all of it.

I traced the scar with my thumb, and she shut her eyes and said my name.

Keep reading free with an account. Start My Stepsister Is Photographing My Wedding to Someone Else from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.