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“But look at him …” she says wistfully. If she were a cartoon, she’d have hearts in her eyes.
I watch as another guy hands Sam a shot. He dislodges from one of the women long enough to down the alcohol. The blonde steps right up when he’s done and runs her fingertips along his chest. She sticks her tongue down his throat in the next second to whoops and hollers from surrounding observers. The spectacle is so stereotypical that I feel like I’m caught in the middle of a bad teen movie.
“I’m looking,” I murmur. “Still not seeing the appeal.”
Eve’s mouth drops open in disbelief. “What are you talking about, Emerson? He’s pure fire.”
“Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s attractive. There are plenty of pretty men around this campus. And a lot of them have substance as well.”
“So, you admit that he’s hot,” she counters, totally ignoring the rest of my statement.
“I’m not blind,” I say, pausing to take another sip of my seltzer. “But other than a pretty face and the ability to put a puck in a goal, what does he have to offer? I’d say his ego likely downgrades him by at least two to three points on a scale of ten.”
I can tell from across the room that the athlete thinks his stuff doesn’t stink. I can smell his arrogance from ten feet away.
“Which would still make him an eight,” she says smugly.
Eve tips her can until it’s empty before snagging mine. I happily let her have it. It’s still three-fourths full.
“Seven. At best.”
She sticks her tongue out at me but smiles. I laugh, enjoying this playful side to my older sibling. I glance around the crowded space and ask Eve if she knows where the bathroom is. She directs me to the second floor when the one on the first floor has a line five deep.
I leave my sister to ogle Sam and weave through the thick crowd. It takes me a few minutes to reach the staircase, but everything thins out on the second floor. I guess it’s too early in the night for all the hookups that are bound to take place in the upstairs bedrooms later. Luckily, when I reach the bathroom, the door is open and unoccupied. I walk inside and lock it behind me, muffling the sounds of the party from downstairs.
After using the facilities, I stare at my reflection in the mirror while searching for any resemblance to my sister. Light-brown eyes stare back at me, framed by wavy chestnut hair that falls to my shoulders in messy layers, lacking the bottled enhancement of Eve’s. Her strands are the same shade as mine underneath all the bleach she gets to lighten them every four weeks. The features of our faces are similar with wide-set eyes and small, rounded noses, both of us resembling our mother. My bottom lip is full with a thin but shapely upper lip. Eve’s are thicker and plumper than mine. She’s been getting filler for a couple of years now.
I prefer minimal makeup to Eve’s bolder style. I’ve been told that I look plain next to my sister more than once. It stings when people say that, but I’m used to Eve stealing the spotlight with her good looks and dynamic personality. She’s always attracted attention, just like she’s consistently lured men. I don’t even resent her for it. I used to when I was younger. But over time, I learned not to desire the type of attention she drew. It was shallow and fleeting, much like all her short-term boyfriends have turned out to be.
Despite the downsides, I love Eve. I’ve never known life without her. And watching her has taught me a lot about myself. What I want and what I don’t want from the world. Part of me envies her free-spirited nature and spontaneity. She’s fun, plain and simple.
But I’ve also watched her suffer the consequences of some of her choices. I’ve comforted her as she cried from betrayal when friends have turned their backs after something she did. I’ve seen how conditional people can be, discarding Eve as soon as she’s messed up. And maybe she deserved it. But Eve is a person who puts up a good act, pretending not to care too much about anyone or anything. She portrays someone untouchable. Buried beneath her flighty exterior, she can be incredibly soft and sensitive, which is a side of her that not many have seen. Even vulnerable. She wants to be loved and admired more than anything.
And I vowed a long time ago never to desert her, no matter what she does. I won’t contribute to the hard, conditional, judgmental side of life, even when she’s earned it. I want to be her soft space to fall, if she ever does. Maybe that makes me complicit in her bad choices. Maybe I’m enabling her. And maybe someday, my feelings will change. But right now, I don’t care. She’s my sister, and I love her, faults and all. Even if we are as different as night and day.
I’m lost in thought when I leave the bathroom, my eyes on my feet, so I’m unprepared when I see the object of my sister’s affection leaning against the wall across from me. Sam. I stop short at the sight of him. His head is pressed back, and his chin is lifted. His eyes are hooded but lasered on me as I stand in front of him.
“I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to come out of there,” he mumbles. But it doesn’t sound accusatory or like he’s annoyed. It’s more conversational and slightly slurred.
“Sorry, Sam,” I apologize. “I didn’t realize anyone was waiting.”
He chuckles. “There are three bathrooms in this house, dozens of people, and enough liquor to give everyone alcohol poisoning. And you don’t think anyone else needs to use the bathroom?”
I narrow my eyes. “Ever heard of knocking?”
“I shouldn’t have to,” he sneers.
I scoff out a mirthless laugh, surprised that I can fit in the hallway alongside his giant-sized ego. “Oh, that’s right … I’m standing in the presence of greatness. The talented center on Sinclair’s hockey team. The freshman phenom everyone bows to …”
He straightens a little more with each mock accolade, finally reaching his full height, towering above my five-foot-three frame with a cocky grin on his face. “I don’t know about phenom …”
There isn’t an ounce of humbleness in his expression as he totally misses the sarcasm in my words. Or maybe he just ignores it. He wobbles on his feet, reminding me that he’s intoxicated. Regardless of his current state, his arrogance makes me want to knock him down a notch.
I tilt my head for greater effect. “Well, I guess if you were truly a phenom, the team would’ve made it to the Frozen Four.”
I match his arrogant smirk as his expression turns stormy.
Seems I struck a nerve.
