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MidReal Story
My Sister’s Flirtatious Friend
Scenario:The house was quiet, and I was stretched out on the couch, mindlessly watching TV. My sister, Jess, was away with our parents, leaving me to enjoy some rare alone time.
As I flipped through channels, I heard the front door open. Jaclynn, my sister’s friend, stepped in, wearing a white t-shirt and short shorts. She moved in front of the TV, completely blocking my view.
"Really? You didn’t care enough to invite me over while your family’s away?" she pouted, placing a hand on her hip.
"Watching TV alone when you could have a beautiful girl like me for company…"
Create my version of this story
Alex Turner
young adult, brother to Jess, average build with messy brown hair, laidback and slightly awkward.
Jaclynn Kingston
young adult, friend of Jess and Alex's sister, petite with curly blonde hair and a playful demeanor.
Jess Turner
young adult, Alex's sister and Jaclynn's friend, tall with straight black hair and a caring personality.
I was having a good day.
It didn’t happen often, but I had the house to myself, and I didn’t have to work.
After flopping on the couch for a few hours, I decided to get some lunch.
It was one of those rare moments where I wished I still had my Nintendo DS so I could play while I ate.
The doorbell rang just as I sat down with my sandwich.
I figured Jess had forgotten her key, so I yelled, "Come in!"
Only to realize it wasn’t Jess when the door opened and footsteps echoed through the house.
I set my plate down, awkwardly wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before turning around.
"Jaclynn."
She stopped in the doorway with a bag hanging from her arm.
"Um…hi."
She looked really cute with her curly blonde hair pulled back from her face, but I couldn’t help feeling annoyed she was interrupting my alone time.
I had none of that.
"You’re supposed to be at work or with Jess…at least, that’s what you told my sister."
"I did?"
She scrunched up her nose.
"Oh, yeah. I did."
She sighed and shifted her weight in either direction, like she wanted to leave but couldn’t make herself come to that decision.
"So…how’s it going?"
"Not sure."
I pointed to the table behind me.
"I was eating."
"Oh…" She looked at me like I’d just said something completely foreign.
I stood from my chair, and she followed me to the kitchen counter.
I pulled out bread, turkey, lettuce, tomato, cheese, and condiments while she set her bag on the floor.
She leaned against the counter, watching me make her sandwich.
I handed her the plate, and our fingers brushed together.
She smiled at me a bit too warmly.
"Thanks."
She walked over to the small table in the kitchen, pulling out a chair.
I sat across from her, trying not to stare at her legs as they stretched out before me under the table.
She took small bites of her sandwich, keeping her eyes on mine.
It was awkward, but I didn’t want to be rude.
"So…what brings you by?"
She set her half-eaten sandwich down, then leaned forward, her curls falling across her face.
"I missed hanging out with you."
Her foot brushed against my leg under the table.
I nearly choked on my sandwich, and I reached for my glass of water to cover my nervousness.
She smiled slightly, watching me take a sip.
Then she got up and put her plate in the sink, but instead of returning to her seat, she moved to stand behind my chair.
Her fingers trailed across my shoulder as she walked past me, heading into the living room.
I sat there for a minute, watching her go.
My sandwich was half-eaten, but I wasn’t hungry anymore.
I could follow her or stay in the kitchen.
The debate raged on in my head, but eventually, I stood and walked into the living room.
She was sitting on our old leather couch, her legs tucked underneath herself.
She picked up the remote and flipped through the channels like she owned the place.
The sound of changing stations filled the air, breaking the silence between us.
I stood in the doorway, feeling heavy in my legs, but I forced myself to walk over and sit beside her.
Each step on the hardwood floor seemed louder than it should have been.
She turned to me, her eyes searching mine, and said softly, "We need to talk."
I gripped the remote in my hand, then muted the TV.
I turned to face her on the couch.
She shifted closer, and her knee brushed against mine.
The afternoon sun streamed through the window, highlighting the nervous way she twisted a strand of blonde hair around her finger.
"I've been thinking about us," she started, then took a deep breath before continuing.
My stomach tightened as I waited for her to finish.
She reached for my hand resting on the couch cushion between us, her fingers trembling slightly as they touched mine.
Before she could say more, my phone buzzed loudly in my pocket.
I glanced at the screen, recognizing the name instantly.
"Do you need to get that?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension.
"No," I replied, silencing the phone and meeting her gaze, "this is more important."
Her fingers intertwined with mine, and she shifted even closer on the couch.
The worn leather creaked beneath us, releasing a faint scent of vanilla from her perfume.
She looked down at our joined hands, her thumb tracing circles on my skin.
My heart pounded so loudly in my chest that I worried she could hear it.
When she finally looked up, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.
I reached up with my free hand to brush a loose curl from her face, but she caught my wrist before I could make contact.
"Please, just listen," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
I nodded, my throat tight with anticipation.
"I've realized I can't keep pretending everything's okay when it's not," she confessed, her eyes searching mine for understanding.
I leaned back against the couch cushions, giving her space while still keeping my hand in hers.
She squeezed it gently, then released it to wipe her eyes with her free hand.
The mascara smudged slightly, leaving a faint dark smudge on her cheek.
The muted TV flickered behind her, casting shadows on her face like a silent witness to our conversation.
She took a shaky breath before continuing.
"I caught Jess kissing my ex last weekend at a party," she said, her voice cracking on the last word.
"I couldn't bear to look at either of them, so I hid in the bathroom until they left."
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
I squeezed her hand again, urging her to go on.
"It hurts more that Jess would do that to me than he would," she admitted, her voice breaking.
"She's supposed to be my best friend."
With a heavy sigh, she pulled her hand from mine to cover her face.
I sat quietly, knowing that sometimes the only comfort I could offer was to simply be there.
I hesitated for a moment before reaching out to wrap my arms around her shoulders.
She stiffened at first, then relaxed against my chest.
Her tears dampened the collar of my t-shirt as I held her, feeling each shaky breath she took.
The muted TV continued to play behind us, casting shifting shadows across her blonde curls.
I awkwardly patted her back, trying to offer what little comfort I could.
She grabbed fistfuls of my shirt, pulling herself closer to me.
"I'm here," I whispered, my voice barely audible over her quiet sobs.
She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes.
"Why do people always hurt the ones who trust them the most?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of anger and sadness.
I took a deep breath, searching for the right words.
"I think sometimes people just act without thinking about how their actions will affect others," I replied, holding her close.
The warmth of her body against my chest made the living room seem smaller and more intimate.
I ran my fingers through the soft curls at the base of her neck, feeling the tension slowly seep from her shoulders.
"Sometimes, they're just so caught up in the moment that they don't realize what they're doing until it's too late."
She shifted slightly in my arms, her breath steadying against my neck.
"And then there are times when people make mistakes with those they care about most," I added gently.
She pulled back just enough to study my face, searching for any hint of judgment in my eyes.
The faint smudge of mascara on her cheek glistened in the flickering TV light, a stark contrast to her pale skin. Her gaze locked onto mine, her eyes searching for answers I couldn't provide.
Slowly, she reached up to touch my jaw with trembling fingertips.
Her touch sent shivers down my spine, but I kept my expression steady.
She leaned in closer, her face inches from mine.
Her fingers still rested on my jaw, and I could feel the warmth of her breath against my skin.
Her breathing steadied, and the tears drying on her cheeks glistened in the shifting shadows of the TV light.
I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the desperation for comfort and reassurance.
She shifted closer still, her vanilla scent filling my senses.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head up slightly, waiting.
Time seemed to slow as I leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest.
Instead of meeting her lips with mine, I carefully pressed them against her forehead.
The kiss lingered for a moment before I pulled back, watching as she opened her eyes to meet mine.
She smiled faintly, a fragile peace settling between us.
I guided her back to sit on the couch, our hands still linked as the TV cast blue shadows across her tear-stained face.
She settled into the corner cushion, pulling her legs up beneath her while keeping her fingers intertwined with mine.
The leather creaked softly as I shifted to face her, maintaining enough distance to think clearly despite the lingering scent of vanilla between us.
"What do you feel for Jess?"
I asked gently, studying the subtle curves of her face.
She tightened her grip on my hand, looking down at our joined fingers.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes flickered up to meet mine, searching for understanding.
"All I know is that everything feels different now, and I'm scared of what that means."
I shifted closer, drawn by the vulnerability etched on her face.
Her fingers trembled against mine as I reached out to brush a fallen blonde curl from her cheek.
The TV's glow cast an intimate light on our intertwined hands, illuminating the faint tears still clinging to her lashes.
My free hand rose slowly to her face, hesitating for a moment before gently sweeping the stray curl from her cheek.
She closed her eyes at my touch, releasing a shaky breath that carried the faint scent of vanilla.
As I leaned in closer, my heart pounding in my chest, I whispered words meant to reassure and comfort.
"You don't have to figure it all out right now," I murmured softly, my thumb brushing against her cheek.
Her eyes fluttered open, a mix of relief and uncertainty swirling within them.
"But what if I'm too late to fix things?" she asked, her voice tinged with fear.