Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card (Jessie and Luke)

THE CALL

JESS

I heard something fall in the kitchen, shattering to the floor.

I sat up so fast that the lounger wobbled beneath me, my heart hammering in my chest as Laura stepped out onto the porch.

She was holding her phone in one hand, her face pale, her wide eyes brimming with something I couldn't quite read-shock? "What's wrong?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

"Did something happen to my mother?" I pressed, my throat tightening as the words rushed out. My mind spun with possibilities, each one worse than the last.

Laura shook her head slowly, her lips parting as if to speak but no sound came out. Finally, she managed to look me in the eyes and said softly, "No. They, uh... Jess."

I stared at her, every nerve in my body on edge.

"They found survivors of the wreck."

My breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around me stilled. The sounds of the pool, the distant rustling of the trees, and even the beating of my own heart seemed to fade into nothing.

"What?" I whispered, barely able to get the word out. My hands gripped the edges of the lounger, knuckles white. "What do you

mean? Survivors?"

Laura nodded, her expression torn between relief and

hesitation. "It's... they haven't released names yet. Just that they found people alive."

Alive.

The word echoed in my mind, sending a strange mixture of hope and fear coursing through me.

Alive.

"Who?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Did they say who?"

Laura shook her head again, her shoulders sagging. "No. I only got bits and pieces. But they said the survivors were found on a boat near some island Ican't remember. Local fisherman picked them up in the storm."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath, which didn't come out in a sharp exhale.

My hands moved instinctively to my belly as though grounding. myself would stop the spiral of emotions threatening to

overwhelm me.

"Do you think it's them?" I whispered, more to myself than to her.

"I don't know," Laura said softly, stepping closer.

I saw it there, etched in the lines of her face, the faint tremble in her lip, the way her eyes darted away from mine. She wasn't ready to have hope. Neither was I. The weight of it was too much, the possibility of reaching for something so fragile only to 23.434

watch it shatter again.

"What should we do?" I finally asked, my voice small, hesitant. The question lingered in the air between us, fragile and uncertain.

Laura blinked a few times, as if pulling herself back to reality. Her shoulders rose and fell in a deep, shaky breath.

"I... uh... they'll be brought in on an air ambulance tomorrow," she muttered, her voice distant.

"Ambulance?" My heart skipped a beat. "Are they-did the people get sick or injured?" I asked softly, the weight of my unease pressing harder. God, I wished my margarita had tequila

in it now.

Laura's lips pressed into a thin line. She looked down at her phone, the screen still lit up with the call log. Her thumb hovered over the glass, but she didn't tap anything. "All the police

said was that someone on the rescue team confirmed they're alive." Her voice cracked, her words trembling like they didn't want to leave her mouth. "They... they know one of the flight attendants survived."

Her gaze drifted to the edge of the pool, unfocused, her expression tight with something I couldn't quite place.

"That's good, right?" I said, though my voice betrayed the uncertainty clawing at my insides.

"Yeah," she murmured, but there was no conviction in her tone. "Good."

We sat there in the silence, the soft lapping of the pool water

the only sound between us. The weight of those few words pressed down on my chest, heavy and suffocating.

"Do you think..." My voice faltered, the question too big to finish. I swallowed hard, trying again. "Do you think it's them?"

Laura looked up, her eyes meeting mine for a brief, piercing moment before she glanced away again. "I don't know," she said, her words barely audible. "But I don't think I can..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Can what?"

"Handle it," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I don't think I can let myself hope again just to lose it all over again."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut because they were my words, too. My fears. My reality.

"I get it," I said, my voice cracking under the weight of the confession. "I'm not sure I can either."

Her lips quirked into a faint, bitter smile. "Feels easier to just... not. You know?"

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. "Yeah. I know."

But even as the words left my mouth, a part of me rebelled. What if this time was different?

What if this time, hope wasn't a cruel trick but a gift? The

thought was too dangerous to entertain for long, but it lingered, a flicker of something I wasn't ready to name. 74.61%

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