"They're moving in with us? Mom! There's hardly room for us, let alone those two!" Samantha huffed and leaned back in the deck chair, crossing her arms under her breasts, and bounced up when she felt the slight adjustment of the heavy plastic under her considerable weight.
"Sammi, baby, I love Quentin, and Diondre lives with him for the same reason you live with me; it saved you money for your tuition to stay at home." Janine shook her head and Samantha watched the sun sparkle off of the few greys that had dared to peek through the darker auburn strands. "Besides, they've already moved their things over when you were at your final classes today. So they've actually moved in with us.
"Anyway, Diondre is an athlete, so I seriously doubt you'll even be running into him every single day." Her mother laughed and leaned back in her own chair, eyes narrowing behind her sunglasses as she surveyed the young woman leaning against the porch railing.
I really should invest in those steel chairs that don't make her so nervous. The thought struck her, and she nodded to herself as she watched the way that Samantha tugged at her tee shirt, pulling it away from her body self-consciously as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
At five-foot-six, Samantha was average in height, but exceptional in so many other ways. She'd gotten the best of both worlds from her parents: her father's big blue eyes, and her mother's silken red hair and flawless skin. Long fingers from Andrew, and she could play the piano just as beautifully as her father had.
She was heavier, and she hated her body, always wishing she were slim and trim, no matter how much Janine encouraged her that she was a vision. The curvy eighteen-year-old sighed and leaned over the railing, mentally cursing her size-twenty body, forgetting her mother as she began to think of what life would be like with two men in the house now.
It had always been just her and her mom, ever since her father had walked out when she was a newborn. Would she be fenced in suddenly? With a family, would she not get the private time that she'd come to love? Damn, I hope I can maintain my privacy. Her eyes opened wide and she froze for several long moments.
Two bathrooms, was all she kept thinking, and the one belongs to Mom and Quentin, leaving me and Diondre to share the small one up the hall. Great. She shook her head and turned as her mother left the deck, belatedly hearing the gravelly crunch of a car pulling up the long driveway.
Samantha twisted her hair nervously as she heard laughter, low and male, and smoothed her hands down her hips, tugging at the hem of her shirt again. Ugh, a brother. And he's older, too! She'd always longed for a sibling, but generally a sister to talk to, not a brother. Another adjustment that would have to be made.
She straightened as Janine rounded the corner, and blinked in surprise as two incredibly tall black men followed her. Quentin, she knew from previous meetings and dinners, was the shorter of the two, though not by much. He stood an easy six-foot-three, his hair still a solid black, with a high forehead, and wide lips that creased in an easy smile when he saw her on the porch.
"Sammi!" His voice was deep, and he waved, moving with an easy grace up to porch steps to hug her. In reflex, and because she did genuinely like Quentin, Samantha wrapped her arms around the big man, hugging him back.
"This is Diondre, my son...." He shifted slightly and waved the taller young man close. "Diondre, this is Samantha, your new sister."
"Step-sister." Samantha muttered softly, and reluctantly held out her hand to Diondre, finally getting a closer look at the young man who'd be invading her quiet life.
He was somewhere around six-foot-six, she guessed, and his hair was closely cropped to his skull, with wide dark eyes and a brooding stare that instantly made her squirm. His hand was warm as he wrapped it around hers, and she dropped her eyes, noting that he kept his nails trimmed and short.
She cleared her throat and nodded. "It's nice to meet you, Diondre. I've got to, umm, go put my things away now ... from class!" And without another glance, she dashed into the house, almost slamming the door in her haste to escape her new brother.
Casting his dad and stepmother a bemused smile, he shrugged and chuckled. "I guess she doesn't like big black guys, after all."
* * *
Really? God, why did you have to give me a hottie for a brother? Couldn't you have made him a short, dumpy guy instead? Samantha huffed and threw her bag onto the bed, and slowly gathered some clean clothes to go take a shower.
It had been a long, grueling day, and nothing soothed her frazzled nerves like a hot shower, and she was already humming to herself as she walked down the hall, and shut the bathroom door with a click.