All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.
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Brendan hated flying. He had already knocked back a beer before we boarded the plane. I told him he didn't have to come if he didn't want to, but he insisted on seeing his little sister off to college, even if it meant an unpleasant flight.
I didn't mind flying, even on a red-eye. It certainly helped that Brendan and I had gotten upgraded to first-class. That also meant we had gotten separated from our mom, still back in coach, but it did mean free booze for Brendan.
Another bonus was that we had basically the entire section to ourselves. There were only three other people in first-class, two of whom had already fallen asleep following the half-hour delay taxiing to the runway.
"Nervous?" I asked Brendan. He had the window seat, while I sat by the aisle. He liked being able to see, I guess because it made him feel more in control.
He gave a quick nod, and gripped the armrests tighter.
The plane began to pick up speed. Brendan took deep breaths, in and out, next to me as we began to take off. The front wheels lifted off the ground. Brendan sharply inhaled. The entire plane ascended into the air. He let out a long exhale.
"See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" I asked.
"No, but I still get really tense. It's just take-offs and landings. I freak out were gonna crash every time, you know?"
"Well, you're more likely to be killed by lightning or by falling off a ladder than you are by dying in a plane crash."
"Thanks for that Erica. That's super reassuring and totally quelled my irrational fear."
"I mean, hey, it was your decision to come with us. You could have gone with Dad and driven the moving van across."
"Oh God no. I love Dad to death but being cramped in a car for three days with him, or anyone really, is not my idea of a good time."
"But taking a flight at 1:00 in the morning is?"
Brendan cracked a smile.
"You've got me there. Stuck between a rock and a hard place I guess."
We remained silent for a moment before I spoke.
"I definitely would've chosen to fly if I were you. I couldn't put up with Dad's music or his random moderately politically-incorrect philosophical discussions for that long."
"But I suppose you're better company?" Brendan teased.
"Oh fuck off. You know I am."
"Do I though?" Brendan asked inquisitively and we both stared at each other.
He broke first, and began laughing.
"You're goddamn right you do," I replied.
"Yeah, yeah. I can't tell a lie."
Brendan was the best big brother I ever could have asked for. He was 23 now, 5 years older than me, and just out of undergrad. He had been a chauffeur, mentor, and a shoulder to cry on for as long as I could remember. Most importantly, he had been a friend.
I knew plenty of siblings who hated each other, especially brothers and sisters. Brendan and I had never been like that with each other. He was always super supportive and helpful to me, and I don't think I'd ever be able to repay him.
"So why are you bringing so much shit anyway? We didn't need a moving van when I went to college."
"Well you only moved three hours away. I'm going halfway across the country. Little bit more difficult to just bring stuff in stages that way."
"Yeah, I guess. I still feel like I didn't bring anywhere close to as much stuff as you. I mean, how many closets worth of clothes did you need to bring with you?"
"A lot!" I responded defensively. I loved clothes and shoes, and so that's what I packed with me to take. Dad was mostly left with small furniture and decorations and bedsheets, plus the stuff I didn't like as much.
God, that made me sound like a bit of a stereotype. But I was actually kind of stereotypical. I had been part of the popular girls clique in high school. I was attractive and relatively smart and outgoing, so everybody seemed to love me. Plus, I played on the volleyball team, which helped too.
While I hadn't inherited the same hobbit genes as my mother, I wasn't that big for a volleyball player, around 5'6". In order to counteract my stature, I worked really hard on the court and in the gym to stay competitive. It gave me a favorable reputation in school, and being a star player certainly was nice for getting cute boys.
As a side effect, I had been rewarded for my effort with toned abs, great legs, and a lithe and athletic figure. The best part though had been developing an an ass to die for. It was perfectly round and firm, and almost pear-shaped. My slim waist and wider hips made it stand out even more. Any time I bent over or wore yoga pants to school, every man in the room tried to hide the tent in his pants.
Sitting on the plane, I was wearing short and tight jean shorts that didn't do much to cover my whole bubble butt. I wasn't necessarily trying to be sexy. I had just designed much of my wardrobe to show off my butt, and I wanted something moderately fashionable to wear. Unlike my mom's airport attire of sweatshirt and sweat pants, I didn't consider it appropriate to go out of the house without looking a little stylish.
Unlike my butt, my boobs hadn't grown as much. Still, after freaking out that I would be flat-chested my whole life, they finally developed into a solid B-cup by the middle of junior year. I had on a pink tank top that showed off a decent amount of cleavage. The top was short enough that a couple inches of bare skin separated it from my shorts, allowing my navel piercing to be fully visible. My mom would ordinarily have been disapproving about how slutty I looked, but I think she had been too tired to protest when we left the house. Plus, the dry August heat gave me an excuse.
I had a beautiful smile, along with high cheekbones and a small button nose. My sun-kissed skin had been tanned from long hours in the summer sun, making my big green eyes stand out more. My long brown hair was naturally wavy, and I kept blonde highlights streaked through it to add a little more pop.
I naturally looked like a pretty typical popular girl, but I put a lot of effort into making sure I maintained my killer looks. They had already gotten me quite a few guys in high-school, and there was no doubt in my mind that they would aid me in the rest of my life. Plus, I'd probably be able to add a few more notches to my bedpost in college.
That's what Brendan's experience had told me anyway. He was a bit of a dork in high school, mostly because he didn't really want to hang out with the jocks, even though he played lacrosse. Brendan was a bit quirky, and that's part of what made him seem so lovable to me. He actually had a personality, unlike quite a few of my for-fun flings with football or baseball players.
By the time he hit college though, Brendan was swarmed with beautiful girls. I think that was when I noticed that he was actually attractive, and not just my shy older brother. Brendan was a little over 6 feet and was really muscular and well-built from all those years of lacrosse. His hair and complexion were both lighter than mine, and he was pretty close to a blonde (although he vehemently classified his hair as light brown, likely to avoid the blonde label).
Brendan had the same big green eyes though. They were deep and really powerful, and made you almost want to melt into his arms when you stared into them. That's what it made me feel like anyway. And the amount of chicks he picked up told me that I needed to bring all of my best clothes if I wanted to compete with the swarm of other attractive girls.
"I need to look my best immediately. I want to make a good first impression."
"So why aren't you wearing some big gown then? 'Erica your Queen has arrived! Bow down, peasants, and prepare to worship her as holy!'" Brendan joked.
"Oh please, I am not like that at all."
"I mean, it certainly seems like how you act. According to Joe Kendrick's little brother, you had every guy in school wrapped around your finger."
"That doesn't mean that I'm a queen, does it?"
"I mean, you won Homecoming Queen, didn't you?"
"Well, yeah, but still..."
