Christmas With My Besties Brother

The priest, a withered man from Martinique whose voice still carries better than the old chapel's speakers, finally tells us to sit down for the last time. All around us, the small parish slumps with relief. Nearly two hours of Christmas mass has worn them down.

I look over at the four Millers, sitting in a well-behaved row. Predictably, my eyes land on Roman's broad shoulders. He's not doing anything special. Just breathing. Looking hot in his Sunday clothes. My chest flutters. I only feel guilty when I stare at his little sister's neck.

Five-year-old me had an absolute meltdown when she couldn't find her new best friend, Paige Miller, at our old church. I somehow convinced my parents to switch over to the tiny, crumbling Catholic parish where we were, by a wide margin, the WASPiest family in the pews.

But it stuck. My parents made friends, laid roots in the community. Mom's tuna casseroles quickly became fixtures of the church's potlucks, and I met Paige's older brother.

Fast forward fifteen years of longing, shameless flirting, a frankly unhinged sexual awakening, and Roman Miller is now my boyfriend. I practically live with him. He's met my friends, and I his.

But none of our families know a thing.

When the priest dismisses us, I quickly kiss my mother's cheek and rush to catch up with Mrs. Miller.

"Maddie! Merry Christmas!" Maria Miller exclaims happily when she spots me, pulling me into a warm hug. I love that woman. She has the same beautiful brown hair and eyes as Roman and Paige, and her lips always curl in that signature Miller smile.

"You look great," she continues, holding me at arm's length to give me the full once-over.

She's right. I do. I'm wearing a conservative blue dress, with no cleavage, the hem falling below the knees. The crisp white collar helps my bare face look less pasty, while a black headband holds my blonde hair back. Strong wholesome holiday girlfriend vibes.

The outfit is part of my four objectives for this Christmas break.

Objective One:

Go from Paige's mildly spoiled best friend to the perfect daughter-in-law in the Millers' mind.

Objective Two:

Make sure Paige doesn't kill me when Roman and I sit her down to tell her we've been dating for the last five months.

Objective Three:

Fuck Roman in his childhood bed.

Objective Four:

Steal my older sister Claudia's beat-up GameCube for Mario Kart dorm nights.

Seeing Mrs. Miller's approving smile,

Objective One

is off to a strong start.

"Thanks, I figured I should try something other than jeans and a T-shirt," I answer politely. I'm glad she's never seen what I wear for a night out with her son.

"That's nice. Need something, hon?"

"So my parents are going to visit relatives," I start, adding just the right amount of sheepishness to my voice, like I don't already know she's going to cave. "And I was wondering if I could spend the afternoon with you guys instead?"

"On Christmas?" Mrs. Miller sounds like it physically hurts her to have to remind me of my daughterly duties. "Won't your parents want you with them?"

"I already checked with them," I say quickly. "And I'd hate to impose, it's just... Paige and I barely get to see each other anymore."

I swear she's about to shed a tear, bless her heart.

She takes my hand and pulls me toward the family car. Standing in front of it, Mr. Miller is smoking a cigarette, waiting for his wife. A few feet away, Paige and Rom are doing their best to pretend the other doesn't exist.

Crap, what happened?

"Look who's joining us for the day," Mrs. Miller announces proudly, like she just surprised her kids with a new puppy.

I try to flash my brightest smile, but the obvious tension between the two most important people in my life takes the wind out of my sails.

Rom looks guilty, Paige downright cold.

"Hey, Maddie," they call in unison.

Chilling.

"I told Paige," Rom whispers hurriedly as we climb into the car.

So much for our carefully crafted plan to gently ease her into our months-long deception.

I'm wedged between them on the backseat. Mr. Miller drives us home while Maria tries to spark the conversation. Paige does a fantastic job of ensuring we don't so much as graze elbows, cramming herself into the door. We get it, you're mad. Jeez.

When I reach for Rom's knee, just a little reassuring touch, he recoils like I shocked him and stiffens against my shoulder.

I take a sideways glance at Paige. She's already watching. Her eyes are locked on my hand, black, sharp, and utterly furious.

I pull it back.

Unaware, Mr. and Mrs. Miller file inside the house when we pull into the driveway, leaving us kids to untangle ourselves from the cramped backseat.

"I've got school work," Paige announces robotically, the first to manage to escape the confines of the car. Even from all the way out there, we can hear the sound of her bedroom door slamming shut.

Roman looks awfully awkward, trying not to touch my thigh as he undoes the weird middle seatbelt. A little ironic for a man who's fucked my ass before.

"What the hell, dude?" I hiss. "What happened?"

To his credit, Roman does look pretty apologetic right now.

"I'm sorry," he explains, offering me his hand to step out of the car.

What a gentleman. A dumb, hot, conflicted gentleman.

"She just asked me if the ride here wasn't too awkward for us after we hooked up this summer. I had to tell her."

Awkward? I blew him in a gas station bathroom.

"Well great job destroying my fifteen year friendship, asshole," despite my harsh words, I can't help squeezing Rom's hand before we pass the front door.

"I'll try to fix," I whisper, before we part ways.

I'm hit with the familiar scent of what used to be my favorite place growing up. So much livelier than my parents' lonely home once my siblings moved out.

A million memories bubble up. Mrs. Miller bringing orange slices to Paige and me as we do homework on her bed. Mr. Miller teaching me PowerPoint and Excel on the living room table. Roman, angrily shutting his door right in my face when I tried to peek at him changing after a shower.

Just good, wholesome family stuff.

I take a deep breath. No point in arguing with Paige right now. I need to stick to the plan. The clatter of dishes and Maria's humming drift in from the kitchen.

"Is there anything I can help with?" I chirp, fully recommitting to

Objective One

.

Mrs. Miller lights up like she's been waiting her whole life for someone to ask her that as she reaches for her apron.

I spend forty minutes chopping vegetables and peeling potatoes. Despite my enthusiasm, Maria clearly does not trust me with anything too sharp or timing-dependent. Still, I only slightly graze my index finger. Small victories.

After a while, she waves me off, and I return to the living room. Rom and his dad are sprawled out on the deep couch, beers resting on their bellies, watching some undecipherable ball game. They'd stopped by the kitchen just long enough to grab their cans. Not once did they offer to help.

When we're married, that kind of behavior won't fly in our home. Especially since Rom is such a better cook than I am. I chalk it up to mental regression from being back at his parents' place for the holidays.

"Which side are we on?" I ask, plopping down next to Roman.

I can see him suppressing his urge to share his beer with me.

"Green and yellow jersey, Mads," Mr. Miller says, never taking his eyes off the screen. "We're not doing great."

After a little while, Maria reappears with a tray and three steaming mugs.

"Homemade eggnog," she says proudly, setting it on the coffee table like a prize. "Go ahead, sweetheart."

Hell yes. I could absolutely get eggnog drunk right now. A refreshing update from the Millers' usual strict no-underage-drinking policy.

"Your parents called," she continues casually. "Their car broke down, so they'll spend the night at your relative's and try to get it towed tomorrow. Roman will set up the blowup mattress for you."

Of course, my parents would call Paige's to tell them about their mishap. Why loop in their adult daughter?

Still, I should go to church more often. God is on my side.

"Where's your sister?" Maria asks Roman as she settles into the armchair, like she gives a crap about her husband's team being decimated live, by the other, purple guys.

Roman hesitates. I can already picture him choking.

"Huh, she said she had some work to do," I offer quickly, saving him from himself.

"On Christmas?" Mr. Miller sounds indignant. "Rom, get her down there. This is family time."

Roman looks like he's walking the plank as he climbs up the stairs. I hear distant, muffled arguing before he returns with Paige.

"You could make an effort and spend some time with us when you're here," Maria says, not unkindly, as Paige slumps onto the couch, as far away from me as possible.

"Take a cue from Rom and Maddie." Mr. Miller adds helpfully.

"There's eggnog," his wife perks up, unable to stay stern for too long.

I pray for the couch to swallow me whole. It does not oblige. Paige's cold stare burns into my crimson cheeks.

===

I pull the cover all the way up to my nose. If Paige's mood was chilly at dinner, her room feels glacial, especially on the thin blowup mattress I outgrew when I was thirteen.

Asking for her spare PJs felt like pulling teeth.

"Paige?" I murmur, like I've done a billion times before. "Are you sleeping?"

"What do you want?" She snaps back.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." I wince, but at least she's talking to me. "About Rom, I mean."

"Don't pretend it was just an omission." Her voice lands in that awful, shaking place between a hiss and a shout. "You lied to me for months. It's been what? A hundred phone calls?"

"I know, and I hate myself for it." I have to fight back tears. "But I was just so scared of what you'd think. Especially if things didn't work out with Rom."

A pillow slams into my head.

"I told you how I felt when you guys first broke up at the lake! And now you're dating him like it's a good idea?"

I feel the heat rise in my chest. I can take shit for lying, but not for being with the future father of my kids.

"Come on, you help set us up together. You asked him to give me a ride to the lakehouse."

Her mattress creaks, but I refuse to look up. I don't want her to see me crying. She'd try to console me, and I deserve to feel bad.

"After you begged me to," she fires back. "You said you just wanted someone to fool around with during the trip. That it was either that or sleeping with your econ professor."

Fuck. Mr. Jones. I forgot about that. I was only fifty percent serious when I said it. Okay, maybe eighty. After he shaved.

"You always do shit like this. Try to worm your way into my family. Sucking up to my Mom is one thing, but fucking my brother? That's just not okay."

"If I wanted to suck up to your Mom, I'd have told her about your tramp stamp," she gasps at that. "Yeah, I noticed, and yeah, it looks great. But you're my best friend, that means something."

I hear her slump back down on her bed. When she starts talking again, her voice is soft. More tired than angry.

"Whatever, I don't think I can be friends with you anymore. This is too weird."

I spring up to my feet on the unsteady mattress.

"Take that back," I beg, feeling the snot build up.

"Fuck off, Maddie," Paige turns to face the wall.

I bolt from the room, hands over my face. In the bathroom, I crank the faucet to full blast. Let it drown out the sobs.

This is bad. Even during our dumbest high school spats, Paige and I never pulled the "not your friend anymore" card. She's cussed me out before, sure. She's told me to fuck off. But never cold like this. Never like she meant it.

It feels like an eternity, but I manage to steady myself. I clean my face, finally looking somewhat human. My eyes less puffy, my cheeks less red.

"What are you doing?" I say to the stupid girl in the mirror.

When I step back into the hallway, my feet lead me to the door next to Paige's. I don't knock, just slip in.

Roman is reading in the semi-darkness. Bare-chested. A sight for sore eyes.

This room is much warmer than Paige's. The man is a walking, breathing space heater.

"You okay?" He asks, already sitting up.

I nod. "Can I sleep here? I'll sneak out in the morning."

"Paige is mad at you?" He guesses.

But I don't want to think about her right now. "Paige and I are okay," I lie, climbing into his bed.

Roman knows me, though. There's a shadow fleeting over his face.

"Close your eyes," he murmurs, and somehow the world feels a little less heavy.

I obey, trying to contain my smile as the mattress shifts next to me.

There's some ruffling noise, and I sneak a quick peek just in time to see his bare back bent over his duffel bag. I squeeze my eyes shut again when he turns.

"Open up."

Rom's holding out a small wrapped box in front of me.

"I thought we were doing Christmas presents when we get back home?" I didn't bring his.

He shrugs. "Consider it an advance. Don't be a brat."

I snort and look up at him before taking the gift. The wrapping paper survives all of three seconds to reveal a small jewelry box. I have to suppress the deep-rooted, over-eager part of me convinced he's about to propose.

Inside is a slim, silvery pendant shaped like a tiny, delicate figure with a fishtail and flowing hair. It is all soft curves and elegant, hand-carved lines. A blue stone, maybe an aquamarine, is tucked where her tail curls, catching the light when I tilt it.

"A mermaid?" I ask, half laughing.

"It fits," Roman says, deadpan. "You seduced me against my better judgment. Lots of swimming involved."

Asshole.

"Also you have great tits," he adds, like it's a normal follow-up.

Absolute boar. I can't stop grinning.

I spring to my feet and pull the old T-shirt over my head. It smells like Paige. I toss it to the other side of the room.

"Here," I say, handing him the necklace and shimmying out of my PJ bottoms and panties. "Put it on me."

Roman stares at me, dumbfounded, then shakes his head and steps behind with what I can imagine is a resigned smile.

I lift my hair over my neck and tilt my chin forward. I've seen this move in so many movies and always wanted to try it.

It works flawlessly. The chain brushes against my nape, making me tingle. I shiver slightly as Roman fastens it, the pendant settling perfectly between my bare breasts. The metal is cold and almost electrifying against my skin.

It might be corny, but it looks great on me.

Damn it. I was so proud of myself, sneaking off to the school library to print out that cute selfie of us from our picnic. Then, I crammed it into the antique frame I'd thrifted just for him.

The perfect Christmas present for Rom, sure to blow his out of the water, even on my shoestring budget. Also, a pretty efficient way to mark my territory if he took it to his office.

But now he's definitely won that battle. Being naked, wearing only his jewelry, does a lot to console me. The usual heat gathers between my legs.

I don't resist when he spins me around, happy to sling my arms around his shoulders as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Sorry about Paige," he says as we pull away to catch our breath. "I shouldn't have dropped it on you like that."

My lips silence him. Read the room, Roman. We've blown

Objective Two

, I'm moving on to

Objective Three

.

I drop onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, chest thrust up on my elbows, legs spread wide open in a clear invitation. I've been more graceful. I've definitely been subtler. But right now, I just need to be fucked.

He gets the hint. He kicks his bottoms off. But instead of sinking into me like I want, he veers toward his bedside table.

"Huh, hello?" I can't quite hide my surprise.

"Condoms."

I groan and flop flat onto the mattress as he scours the drawer. This bed smells like so many of my old wet dreams.

"Fuck," he mutters in a desperate voice.

"What?" I ask, turning my head to look at him.

"Expired," he says, defeated, holding out a box of condoms he must have used with Jenny Hamilton, his high school girlfriend. I hate that I remember her name. That dumb cow.

I do a quick mental calculation.

"Just pull out, not a super risky day," or don't. But I keep that part to myself.

Roman looks at me, silently weighing his options. But this isn't our first rodeo. We both know he'll break.

After a few seconds, he crawls back onto the bed, settling between my open thighs.

This isn't one of our wild rides. He slowly slides inside me, letting me enjoy every single inch of his skin brushing against my soaking pussy.

I don't think I'll ever grow tired of the sight of Roman's cock disappearing between my folds. That wonderful moment when I'm full of him and the world disappears. The sheer excitement from feeling his bare length inside of me, with nothing to protect us.

He plants his hands on either side of my head and occasionally lowers himself for a kiss, like he needs to refuel.

I rub small circles over my clit bringing myself to a silent orgasm as he works himself up to his own with his slow thrusting. Nothing spectacular or particularly mind-blowing. Only his weight on me, and his hard throbbing cock pulsing within me.

Exactly what I need right now.

"Grab a tissue?" he pants, his voice tight, ready to pop.

But I shake my head, breathless. "My tits."

He gets the message, a wicked grin spreading across his features. The mermaid.

===

I somehow wake up before the sun. It's a miracle we've never been caught.

My body is tucked against Rom's sleeping form, right where we passed out after our late night fuck. When I try to extricate myself from his embrace, he pulls me right back in even tighter.

"Hey," I whisper, ever the responsible adult. "I need to get out of here before your parents wake up."

He groans and lets go of me, then rolls on his back, muttering something unintelligible. His morning wood rubs all over my belly.

Okay, I may have time for that.

I shift over him, and wince as the skin on my chest tugs. A thin, crinkly layer of dried cum clings to my breasts, a sticky reminder of how I fell asleep still wearing him. How am I supposed to slip out of here, wash up, and pretend to sleep in Paige's room like a good girl?

My pussy is already melting when I duck under the cover to take his cock in my mouth. It tastes like his skin, and just a little salty, a perfect combination.

Even through the haze of early morning lust, I remember: I have to be quick. Poor half-sleepy Roman doesn't stand a chance. In just a few minutes of focused sucking and tugging, he spills over my tongue.

The best way to start the day.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, wriggle into Paige's spare PJs, and pop the window open to air out the room. It reeks of us.

Slipping into the hallway, I immediately hear sounds from downstairs. Too late to sneak back into Paige's bedroom.

I follow the noise and find Mrs. Miller already bustling around the kitchen, fully dressed and wearing her usual apron. She is the picture of holiday mom energy.

"Morning, Maddie!" she calls out cheerfully when she spots me.

She crosses the kitchen and plants a quick kiss on the top of my head. I could cry if it weren't for her son's load on my chest, and the other one still coating my mouth. I pray she doesn't catch the smell.

"You're up awfully early," she continues with a bright smile, delighted to have company.

"Still on my school schedule," I manage. "Need any help?"