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“No, but this is different. You’re here with me, and I don’t want you with Harry. I don’t need my sister hooking up with him and getting her heart broken. That would put me in a bad position.”
Paige starts laughing, “You’re an idiot. I don’t want to date him. I just want a little fun.”
“No. Find another guy. Preferably one closer to your age.”
“Are you going to be like this the whole time I live with you?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I need to find a job and an apartment soon. Geez, Zane, I fucked a few guys already. I haven’t had sex in a few months, and I need it.”
I stick my fingers in my ears and start singing because the last thing I want to hear about my little sister is that she had sex.
“Really? Who’s the younger one between us?” she walks off in a huff, and I take my fingers out of my ears. I see I’m going to have my hands full with her.
I head to my room to prepare to go out. A quick shower, and I’m standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, trying to figure out which way I want to style my hair. Either It’s slicked to the side with some pomade or spiked up. Paige startles me as she walks in, holding up two dresses.
“Dammit, Paige, you scared the fuck out of me.”
“Why are you standing in front of the mirror with a towel on?”
“I haven’t decided what I’m going to wear.”
“Do you want help?”
An intriguing idea. I’m curious about what she would think of how I dress.
“Pick something for me.”
“I just need you to tell me which outfit you like better,” she holds up the items she has in her hand. Both are too short, in my opinion, and one has a plunging neckline that goes right down to the waist, a definite no for my little sister.
“I like that one.”
She scowls at me, “Is it because it doesn’t show as much skin?”
“Paige, why the hell would you ask if you wanted to wear the more revealing one?”
“I wanted to get your opinion.”
“No, you want to exasperate me. Wear what you like.”
“Why are you so grumpy?”
“I’m not. I just worry about you. I want you to be safe.”
“I wore less to frat parties.”
“I find that hard to believe since that dress could barely be termed clothing. What exactly did you wear that was less to frat parties?”
“Bikinis. It was California.”
“Could you please pick something out for me?”
She lays the dresses on the bed and heads to my closet. I continue to work on styling my hair into soft spikes, and I hear her moving hangers back and forth. She comes out holding a pair of black jeans and a burgundy dress shirt. It’s close to what I would choose.
“This would look good on you.”
“Should I wear a tie or not?”
