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I can barely hear her over the derogatory shouts from my teammates.
I open the sliding glass doors that lead to the pool area, slamming it shut behind me. I walk a few steps with her still squirming in my hold and drop her on a lounger. It’s unseasonably cold outside tonight, and no one else is out here.
Madison looks like a wild, untamed woman when she sits up and glares at me. Her hair is tangled and partially covers her face. She pushes her blonde locks aside, narrowing her eyes when I smirk at her. I keep my focus on her face and try to ignore the way her body keeps trying to steal my attention.
When exactly did those curves develop?
“You’re not my brother, Ollie. You can’t order me around like you do to Oakley. And for the record, you can’t order her around either. We aren’t children.”
My smirk widens when I hear her sticking up for my sister. I like that’s she’s fierce and passionate. I like that she loves Oakley with all her heart. I know she’d go to the mattresses for her, and it makes me happy because I’d do the same.
“Put your shirt on, Mads.”
She huffs at me and blows a strand of golden hair from her face. I try not to laugh, but a chuckle escapes anyway. She looks so cute, all defiant and angry.
Her cerulean eyes narrow. In the next instant, the fire starts to burn inside of them, like a blue flame on a gas stove. Her expression turns predatory, and I can tell she’s about to challenge me. Madison never likes being told what to do, especially by me.
She rises to her feet slowly, and my head tips as I follow her. Her free hand drops to the button of her jeans and hovers. The other holds her shirt at her side defiantly. If she drops it, it’ll land in the water.
“Maybe instead of putting my shirt back on, I should take the rest of my clothes off and go for a swim.”
I glance over at the cold, still pool and envision how frigid the plunge would be. The pump is churning in the background. I can hear music from the party muffled through the sliding glass doors.
“That’s a great idea,” I say, my words ripe with sarcasm, “if you want to catch pneumonia.”
It can’t be much above freezing right now. Madison’s nipples are so hard that they could cut steel. I can see them puckering the silky material of her bra, even as I try not to notice. But trying not to see her only makes me notice her more.
“What difference does it make?” she counters.
For the first time tonight, the defeat in her tone matches her expression. If it had been there earlier, then I must’ve missed it. Her shoulders sag as her smile fades, and all that’s left is … emptiness. It dawns on me that as much as I feel suffocated by my parents’ attention at times, it’s better than never having it at all. I am guessing that Madison would agree with me, especially while walking into that dark, empty house earlier tonight.
I reach out to her, lightly grasping the wrist that’s holding on to her shirt. Madison is stuck somewhere between a woman and a girl. But in this moment, she no longer looks like that tempting seductress, dancing half naked on a coffee table in the middle of a party. The good-time girl who is always down to impulsively shake her ass, ready with a smile and a one-liner. I love that side of her. I’ve always admired it. She’s light and fun, whereas I’m usually serious and focused. Right now though, all I can see are the layers that she normally tries to bury. The sad little girl standing right in front of me, begging to be seen. The one who likely wanted her mom to be at home tonight to tell her she couldn’t leave the house. And I want to make that sadness disappear more than I want my next breath.
“Mads, put your shirt back on. Please.”
She sighs, and I release her wrist to watch as she tugs the material overhead and pulls it back into place. The thin material doesn’t hide those hard nipples though. I look away, glancing out into the distance to see the land swallowed up by the darkness beyond the pool.
“Did your mom ever make it home?” I ask quietly.
I feel her stiffen beside me, but I pretend not to notice.
“No.”
She doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask her to. We sit together in silence for a while as the bass thumps inside the house.
I finally glance over at her with a smirk. “Did you really not have anything to drink tonight?”
She giggles, and I like that the dimness in her eyes brightens just a bit. “Not one drop.” She tilts her head in that cute way of hers and side-eyes me. “I can be fun without alcohol, Ollie Burnham.”
“Can you now?”
“Sure can,” she assures.
“I don’t doubt that for a second,” I agree, sitting up and draping my arms across my knees. “All my best times have you somewhere in the background.” I start thinking of our childhood and how Madison was usually right there next to my sister.
She scoffs. “You’ll never find me in the background, hockey player. I’m strictly lead material.”
I smile, not disagreeing with her. She’s outgoing and gregarious. And she brings my sister out of her shell. Sometimes, that worries me more than anything, the trouble these two are going to get into. The trouble they already have.
