He went through the patio doors after her, hopping as he tugged his jeans back on. "Laura, wait."
But Laura didn't wait. He watched her dark hair sway hypnotically behind her, the cute wiggle of her hips in her wet underwear. It all seemed painfully ironic now.
She slammed the bathroom door shut behind her. As he got to the knob, he heard and felt it lock and a spark of static shot into his hand. He recoiled slightly, rubbing his hand, then knocked on the door.
"Laura," he said again. "Please open the door."
Empty silence emanated. All he heard was the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the occasional passing car on the street.
"Laura?"
Still nothing.
"C'mon, Laura, this is crazy. You lock yourself in the bathroom?"
Not a sound. After a moment, he heard the shower turn on.
"Laura!" He went to pound against the door but stopped himself. He stood there, glaring at the carpet. Light tendrils of steam began to curl up from under the door. And as he watched, his frustration gave way to the simple fact of it all.
He had fucked up.
----------
He found her staring at a painting.
A farm house, the final seconds of a sunset, a few trees here and there, and a farmer on a backhoe, reigning the horses. The sky was a deep purple with soft clouds gathering over a darkening horizon.
The foyer lights were off, and in the soft light glowing from the kitchen, she looked like she could have been a part of that painting, standing on that farm house's front porch.
He walked up to her, putting his arms around her and breathing her in deeply. Cherries and Jasmine. She turned in his embrace and, silhouetted by the light on the painting, they kissed.
"Don't let this end," she said after a breath. "And don't tell me it's crazy to think that. Someone will find out. Eventually." She turned her head to the side. "Then it'll get weird."
Chris knew she was right. There was no way they could keep this secret forever. Or for long. In a matter of days they had gone from stepsiblings to lovers. Real or infatuation, it was intense, and it felt like there was no way to return from it.
Still, he wanted to avoid facing these facts. It's hard acknowledging that life has turned a corner. Chris preferred straight lines.
He pushed everything but her from his mind and pulled her face up to his. "So we'll deal it with it then. When it happens. Together."
She looked into his eyes and smiled. "This is crazy, isn't it?"
Chris shrugged. "I don't know. But if it is, then I love crazy." He smiled. "I am all about the crazy."
She laughed and kissed him again. He felt her hand drift lower on his back, pressing him into her. "And I am all about you." She growled it through the kiss, her nose mashing against his forcefully.
It was amazing to have someone who could excite him with such little effort. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this. He would have loved to flatten her against the wall and consume everything about her.
"We should get back," he said instead. "I'm not sure it takes this long to pop popcorn or pee."
She laughed again. "Is that what you told them? You just peed ten minutes ago."
"I'm running out of excuses." He tickled under her arms and she squealed, twisting away from him so hard her socks lost traction on the hardwood floor, and she lost her balance. He caught her and they were both laughing as he tried to quiet her.
"Relax," she said. "Becky and Simon could use some alone time." Then she tilted her head back to look up at him and ran her hand over his neck. "And so could we, I think."
She pulled him down to her, and this time when they kissed, the passion rose from her like an intoxicating cloud. Swept up in it, Chris lowered himself to his knees, she holding his face to hers. Her arms curled up around his head, fingers curling in his hair. His hands, with a mind of their own, slid under her sweater and wrapped around her back tightly. From just the touch of his hands on her skin, she moaned softly.
Then their eyes popped open and their hands froze. Footsteps on the basement stairs.
They sprung up from the floor. Chris quickly bolted for the hallway to the bathroom. As he quietly pulled the door closed, he heard Becky and Laura talking in the foyer.
Locking the door, he looked around the bathroom. Laura had been right when she said he'd just been in here ten minutes ago, so he didn't feel any great urgency to go. Instead, he sat on the toilet and stared up at the ceiling.
He heard the girls move into the kitchen which was next door to the bathroom. They started coughing; it was muffled through the wall, but he could hear just fine.
"Jesus, Laura, you burned the shit out of that." Becky's voice drifted through the drywall.
"I know," said Laura. She must have been standing closer to the wall because Chris could hear her better. "I know, but have you seen that painting?" Chris heard the pantry door opening and closing. "You ever wish you could just crawl up inside a picture?"
Becky giggled, farther away. "You are such a nerd."
"What's the first picture you remember seeing?"
"I don't know. How am I supposed to remember that? You remember yours?"
"My mother in her wedding dress."
Chris blinked at this. He couldn't remember Laura ever talking about her mother. All he knew was that she had died when Laura was 9 years old.
The kitchen was now silent, and he leaned closer to the wall. Then he heard Becky, quietly. "That's your first picture?"
"My dad gave it to me on my first day of school. She was beautiful." Laura trailed off for a minute. Chris's ear was against the drywall.
"It was perfect." He could hear the pride in her voice, the glowing smile on her face.
And he could almost feel the air of the kitchen grow heavy and begin to seep through the wall into the bathroom.
"You wear the photographer thing really well, babe," Becky said.
"And I know it."
Both girls laughed and Chris smiled now, leaning back from the wall. Deciding he'd spent enough time hiding in the bathroom, he flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet. He counted the appropriate length of time for the girls to think he was washing his hands, then turned off the water and went out to the kitchen.
