This Summer We'll Love Each Other

It's finally here. The day I've been dreading since the weather first started to warm up, signaling that summer was on its way.

My twin sister's getting home from her first year of college. We haven't seen each other since Christmas, and that was only for a few days. Now, she's going to be living here with me and our mom for the entirety of her summer break.

It might as well be hell.

Out in the driveway, I hear a car pull up to the front of the house. The door slams shut, followed by the sound of sneakers against the pavement. Then the front door to our house opens, and excited footsteps trace a path into the middle of our living room. By the sound of them, I can tell she's still wearing her shoes.

Inside

the house. What an animal.

"Chrissi! I know you're home. Are you awake?"

I don't say anything, hoping that she'll leave me alone and go do whatever embarrassing, vapid nonsense popular girls normally do.

But my prayers aren't answered. The next thing I hear is the sound of her bounding up the steps. "I know you're here, Chrysalis!" she calls out in this annoying, singsong voice, using the nickname that I absolutely hate. "I saw your car outside. What're you up to? Am I gonna see something I don't wanna see if I open this door?"

I open my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but she's already opening the door. I should have locked it, goddammit.

"Don't care, I'm coming in anyway," she says, and she throws the door open, stepping into my bedroom.

I fly into a panic, the way I do any time someone enters my room. I immediately close the tabs on my computer. Right now, I'm just drawing while I listen to creepy paranormal podcasts on YouTube. But I'm getting to a spicy part in my webcomic, where the main girl and her lesbian vampire crush have a pretty intense makeout session on top of her dead sister's tombstone.

"Mari! Can you l-learn to knock? Or just, you know, not barge into my room whenever you w-want to!" My voice cracks at the end, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, glaring at Mari. She's standing silhouetted in the doorway, hips cocked to one sand, hand resting on them. Just having to look at her again makes me sick. From top to bottom, she's perfect. Long legs, toned from playing volleyball since we were kids, lead up to her wide hips, currently covered only in a pair of cutoff denim shorts that make her look like a slut and probably cost her more money than I make on Patreon in a single month. Her stomach is perfectly flat, with the slightest rippling of abs. And I know that because she's wearing a halter top that shows off her entire midsection, and judging by the bulging shapes of her tits under it, she didn't even bother with a bra. Her hair is the same blonde as mine, but somehow it looks platinum and stylish on her, and pale and withered on me. She wears her hair cut short, and she's got on some kind of sparkly pink lip gloss.

My perfect, beautiful, talented, popular sister.

I'm seriously about to puke.

She pauses, eyeing me up. And I can only imagine how I must look to her. I'm scrawny and pale, my hair grown out and unbrushed. And since I didn't

plan

on having my sister barge into my room without warning, I'm dressed only in a pair of panties and a faded, slightly stained shirt that's ridden up to show the pale squishiness of my stomach. I adjust my glasses, trying to incinerate her with sheer rage.

I wait for her to say something nasty. But instead, she gives me one of her fake, perfect smiles. "Aww, c'mon, Chrysalis. You can't stay up here all day. When did you wake up?"

"None of your business."

"Just saying, you should try and actually get out there and

do

stuff once in a while. Oh, I know! You should come out with me later! My boyfriend's taking me

clubbing.

"

"Since when do you have a boyfriend?"

My sister smacks her lips. "Since last month. You'd know if you ever responded to my texts."

I shiver. My sister updates me on every little detail of her life. Like I care.

"I'd rather die than spend time with you and some guy," I hiss.

"I can have him bring one of his friends along! A cute friend. Oh, wait. Do you still not like boys?"

"I've never liked boys! I like girls! Only girls!"

My sister shrugs. She always gets weird whenever I talk about being gay. Even though she's miss bubbly and sugary about everything else, this is the one topic that creeps her out.

"Fine. Whatever. I can ask if he knows any girls who'd be down. Or you can just stay here in your underwear and touch yourself all day."

"I'd much rather do the second!" I shout at her. A moment later, though, I realize how bad that sounded. I turn away from her, my face burning. "Just go hang out with your idiot boyfriend." I flash her a smug smile. "At least

I

know I'm going to cum tonight."

Mari's face twists. "I'll have you know that I

haven't

slept with him! I'm not that easy! I'm sure you'd probably let any girl you met get right into your panties though!"

"Yeah. I would."

My sister makes a face. "Whatever." She storms out of the room, but then pauses and sticks her head back in. Because Mari always has to have the last word. "You don't

always

have to be like this, you know. I actually was looking forward to seeing you again. I wanted to hang out! But you're still like

this."

"Like what!?" I say.

She gestures to my room, which is pretty much a shrine to anime figures and takeout trash. My whole body heats up, sweat blooming on my palms and soles of my feet. It smells weird in here too, a mixture of sweat and bodily musk.

"This," Mari says. "If it's what you want, fine. But you could at least be a

little

nice to me when I try to talk to you."

"Me? Nice to you? You're the bitch! I'm just minding my own business."

Mari throws her hands up. "Oh my God. There you go again."

"What? What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't care. Stay up here and stew and look at your weird porn. And yes, I know about the porn!"

She slams my door, and I hear her clomping down the stairs, still wearing her shoes.

I slump back in my chair. My heart is pounding. Mari and I have fought since the two of us hit puberty at the same time, and it turned me into a moody ghoul and her into an emotionally volatile princess. I knew things weren't going to be different after we'd spent a year apart. But that was bad.

I take a few deep breaths. I'm seriously shaking. Should I apologize?

I've called her all sorts of mean stuff before. But this time, I threw "bitch" out there after she'd only been home for five minutes.

But she always starts it! She's so

difficult.

Being all overly friendly one moment, judgmental the next, and then all creepy when she talks about my sexuality. If she was a normal sister, I could deal with it. But she's such a mess, all the time. At least I'm a mess on the outside. That girl's a piece of work. Ugh.

...I do feel kinda bad.

But I'm also still

pissed.

She could try to talk

to

me instead of talking

at

me!

I don't know what to think. I only woke up an hour ago, and my head's already whirling. So I do the thing I do whenever I get too stressed to function properly.

I slip my hand into my panties, fingers finding the slick curves of my petals. I'm surprised at how

wet

I am. Was I really dripping in my underwear the whole time we were arguing? Ew, ew. I don't want to think about that. I just need to get off.

I stroke myself, stirring my wetness until I slide over the edge into a quick, unpleasant orgasm. My feet clench for a moment, I let out a few harsh gasps, and the slightest trickle of my nectar slides down my fingers. Then it's over. I let out a long sigh and collapse in my chair. As far as my stress-out shlick sessions go, that was one of the worse ones. But my head is a little clearer.

I'm not going to apologize to her. But maybe, once we've both cooled down, I'll talk to her. Maybe.

For now, I open my art program again, hoping that drawing will help clear my head.

A few hours pass. I'm mostly done with this chapter. Hopefully I can release it soon. My Patreon's been steadily growing. Even if Mari doesn't think my art is anything to be proud of, I like it, and I want to keep drawing for a living.

Speaking of Mari, the house has been weirdly silent. Our mom still isn't home yet, which isn't unusual. She's a doctor, and she works long hours.

But normally, Mari spends the whole day yapping with her friends on the phone, or watching TV with the volume turned way too high. But it's quiet. What's she doing?

The curiosity burns at me too much for me to keep drawing. I get up from my computer and pad over to my bedroom door, opening it and peering down the stairs into the kitchen. Mari's down there, sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow. She's

still

wearing her shoes, oh my God I want to kill her. But what catches my attention more than her shoes is the book held open in her lap.

She's

reading!?

I didn't even think Mari

could

read. But she's got a thick copy of a fantasy novel I recognize.

She reads

fantasy!?

Did space aliens kidnap my sister and replace her with someone cool? Because if they did, I need to thank them.

Mari's eyes flick up. She notices me watching her.

I let out a weird little squawk and duck back into my room. But when I poke my head out again, she's gone back to reading. I swallow a hard lump in my throat. Could this be any more awkward? I mean, I'm going to need to go downstairs eventually.

I step out of my room and very quietly tiptoe down the stairs. Mari ignores me. Blessedly, for once. I can feel that she's mad at me. It's like hot waves of her attitude are crashing against my shoulder. After I get a snack from the fridge, I drink some soda and creep up next to her.

"H-hey," I say.

Mari looks up at me. "Hey?"

"You're reading."

The slightest hint of a sarcastic smile. "Figure that out all by yourself?"

"I mean... s-since when do you... read?"

Mari shrugs. "I had to read a lot for class. After a while I started to like it. So I've been looking for fun stuff. I found this series, and it's pretty awesome. Swords, blood, a really good romance..."

"It's

amazing.

Honestly I think it's one of the better works of dark fantasy to come out in the last twenty years. The fact that it updates the classic grimdark formula by having a female lead with actual

agency,

and buy having the main characters occasionally show vulnerability without being punished for it really proves how..."

I trail off, realizing that I'm rambling hardcore.

But Mari has a tiny smile on her face. "Yeah?"

"I l-like it, I guess," I say, turning away from her.

"That sounded like a lot more than an 'I guess,'" Mari says.

"Whatever." I try to run back to my room, but Mari reaches out and grabs my wrist. "Let go!" I yelp, trying to twist away. But she's so much stronger than me. She yanks me backward. I stumble, because I'm a clumsy idiot. Then I trip over the edge of the coffee table, banging my shin and yelping in pain. And I lose my balance completely, falling right on top of Mari.

My ass lands right in the middle of her lap.

Mari lets out a surprised

"Oof!"

as I land on top of her. Then she freezes. She's still reclining on the couch in the same casual position, except now I'm sitting right atop her thighs.

"I... I-I..." I stammer.

Mari throws her head back and laughs. "So you really did miss me! Aww,

Chrysalis.

If you wanted to cuddle, you only had to ask!"

She sits up, wrapping her arms around me. I thrash like a demon, hissing and screeching.

"Lemme go! Stop! Don't you dare hug me, you w-weirdo!"

But I stop really quickly once I realize that I'm

being held by another girl.

Yes, it's my sister. Yes, this is weird. Yes, I hate her and the thought of touching her at all makes me feel icky. But it's

girl cuddles.

I don't think Mari and I have hugged one another at all since we were thirteen years old. And here she is. I'm touching her. Her arms are around my shoulders. Her breasts are squishing up against my side. They're

huge,

so soft they almost don't even seem real. Is that what they're supposed to feel like? Mine are hard little nubs that you can feel my chest bones through. Hers are like heaven.

Ew. What am I doing? Those are my sister's tits!

I'm so down bad. I'm down

terrible.

Do I really need a woman to touch my body so badly that I'm sweating just from a hug from my sister?

Eventually I calm down. This... this feels nice.

Mari doesn't seem to mind either. She's still holding me, squeezing my upper body while she pulls me against her chest.

"Awww,

Chrysalis.

You're all blushy! I bet you really did miss me, huh? Right?"

"S-shut up," I hiss. I adjust my glasses. "You picked a good series. We can talk about it once you've finished all five books. I don't want to spoil it for you."

"You're so mean! I wanna talk to you," my sister whines.

"Hmph. Well... who's your favorite character?"

From there, the two of us get into a long,

long

conversation. I lose track of time completely. We go over the best parts of the first three books, our favorite arcs, the insane plot twist at the end of book two, how much we hate the main villain, how much we love the main hero's best friend... I almost can't believe I'm having this conversation with

Mari.

Mari sucks! She's vapid, a pretty piece of plastic! I'm the smart one!

But the more I talk to her, the more I'm realizing that I kind of enjoy this. She isn't quite as cultured as me, of course. But she can be bright when she needs to. She's even a little bit funny.

The aliens really did take her, I swear. This is

not

my sister.

Except it is. There's something so

Mari

about the way she talks about the book. She's so dumb, so easily excited, constantly blabbing about

"Oh my God, I cannot

believe

she did that..."

and using all this weird slang I don't understand. And yet it's fun.

And she's holding me...

I'm trying not to lose my cool. But I must be really touch-starved, because being hugged feels

so good.

The warmth of Mari's body bleeding into mine, the way her breath tickles my cheek when she laughs, the way I can smell the cherry shampoo in her hair and the spiced bodywash she used this morning. The way I can feel every soft curve of her thighs against my bony butt. My forearm is pressing against her stomach, my bare skin on hers. And when she laughs, her breasts lurch up and down under her top. I can sometimes feel the prod of her nipple against my shoulder through the fabric.

Stop.

Stop,

you sicko. This is your sister!

But she's a woman. A woman touching me. Holding me.

A woman who's your sister!

This mental war is raging in my head the entire time we're talking. I can feel myself getting sweaty as we go on, my brain taking on that fuzzy feeling it always gets when I'm overstimulated. I want to go hide in my room again, drink some water, maybe get myself off until I feel normal again.

But Mari won't let me go!

I hate her. I hate her, I hate her, I hate her. This stupid, vapid, perfect, idiot girl, she won't stop touching me and making me feel...

Bzzzrt!

By some miracle, Mari's phone goes off.

She practically shoves me off of her, and I yelp as I sprawl on the floor in a heap. I pop up, rubbing my head and glowering. "W-what was

that

for? You psycho!"

"I got a text from my boyfriend," Mari says, and her face is so unbelievably smug that I want to punch it. Honestly, it's a bit of a relief to feel the familiar hatred for her. That's an easy feeling. Whatever was coursing through my body before, that hot bubbly desire to be closer to her, was freaking me out. But when I see my sister open her phone and start getting all smiley and lovey-dovey about the prospect of reading a message from some

guy,

my gut twists. Am I jealous of her? Absolutely not, boys are disgusting. Then... am I jealous of

him?

Oh my God, we cuddled for ten minutes and I'm acting like a jilted lover. I need to get a grip. Get a grip, get a grip...

Mari's been weirdly silent, I realize.

I look up and see my sister staring at her phone. The smile's gone from her face, and she looks like she's about to be sick. And as I watch, tears well in her eyes.

"H-hey, did something happen?" I ask her.

She jumps to her feet and sprints past me. "Whatever. Not like

you'd

care, anyway," she spits. And then she sprints up the stairs and into her room, which is directly across from mine. I'm left gaping, trying to process what just happened.

I mean, she's right. I don't care what happens between her and whatever stupid neanderthal she's chosen to obsess over.

...right?

After a minute or two, I gather my nerves and tiptoe up the stairs. I press my ear to Mari's door. And through the wood, I hear the soft sound of her crying into her pillow. My gut lurches. I should be happy about that, right? Miss Perfect, who thinks she's on top of the world and always looks down on me, finally gets put in her place. But it doesn't feel good. It feels like some douchebag just made my sister cry.

I knock on the door. No response. So I open it anyway. She does that to me all the time, right?

"Mari?" I ask.

Her room is the opposite of mine. A few pictures of scenic locations are hung up on the walls, all her clothes are neatly put away, and she's got a few fluffy toys arranged on her bed. Mari's sprawled out atop her covers, her face in a pillow. She looks up at me, and I can see her eyes are red-rimmed, cheeks stained by tears.

"He b-broke up with me!" she cries. "Over a text! Apparently t-there's been another girl this whole time."

I grit my teeth. Because that small, awful part of me wants to say

"Serves you right."

But an even deeper part of me wants to be close to her.

So I cross the room, sit down on her bed, and pat my thighs. Mari looks up at me. She pulls a face, and I realize that, duh, I'm still only wearing three-day-old panties, my legs bare and unwashed. I definitely kinda smell. My face burns, and I'm about to scurry out of the room and lock myself in the darkness, all thoughts of being a good sister forgotten.

But Mari surprises me by getting up, mumbling something under her breath, and plunking her head down in my lap. Her cheek is against my thighs, tears dripping against my skin. Her face is toward me, her wet shuddering breath hot against my bare stomach. Her mouth is

weirdly

close to, you know, certain parts of me. But I try not to think about that. I try really, really,

really

hard not to think about how a girl's face is near my crotch. Holy fuck, I'm down

so

bad. She's my sister! My sister, my sister, my sister...

Be normal, dammit!

I put my hand on Mari's head and give her a few gentle pats. She laughs. "You're t-terrible at this," she says with a hiccup.

I try to think of something angry to say, but nothing comes. "Y-yeah..." I sigh.

"Why're you all shaky? Am I making you

nervous

~?" Mari says, laughing wetly.

"A little..." I admit.

"Aww. Chrysalis." She sniffles, and she nuzzles her cheek against my thighs. "Sorry if I made you mad by coming into your room."

"Oh. It's, uh... f-fine, or whatever. Sorry for calling you a bitch. And... I'm sorry your boyfriend dumped you."

"It's okay. I didn't... I mean, I don't really know how I felt about him."

"B-but, weren't you dating him?" I ask, confused.

"Yeah. But I'm supposed to, right? What's the point of summer break if I don't have a little fling?"