Page 29 of By the Fae

Choosing Goldie as my shadow partner had been a rash and slightly irrational decision. But if I wanted something to happen with Seth, something more than a single night, I needed coaching. That much was painfully obvious. Seth hated inexperience. And it’d been so long since I’d last been intimate with a man, I was beginning to wonder if I remembered where everything went.

Goldie had experience alright. He had enough experience for everyone in Remy. But perhaps the most splendid twist of fate was he wouldn’t be able to utter a single word about it to anyone at work.

He’d called me a genius. I smiled a little at the memory.

At the time, this arrangement seemed like the only logical conclusion. Fae with heaps of knowledge shares that knowledge with eager-to-learn human. Then afterwards he could dust his hands of me. We disliked — okay, loathed — each other. There would be no feelings involved beyond what happened in his pants area. It would be transactional for both of us. I would brush up on my techniques, and then we could go back to ignoring each other.

Yes, admittedly Goldie was very easy on the eyes. Unfairly-bordering-unethically handsome, as all fae were. But it would only help make this ordeal less wretched on my part. For him though, he’d made it clear several times he found humans repulsive. There was no way in heck he’d find me attractive. Even without my dungarees.

I was desperate. Beginning to believe I was a lost cause. Doomed to spend all eternity boyfriendless, orgasmless.

If I wanted a decent shot at being with Seth, it was just something I’d have to endure.

“Are you still mooning over that book?” said Abby. She threw her backpack down on the floor next to the desk.

“Hey,” I said, sitting up on the bottom bunk, remembering not to smash my head on the slats this time. “I thought you had band practice?”

“Galmin quit the band. So, we’re down a guitarist, and lead singer. And because he was half-fae, he was the ‘look’. And now we won’t get any of his hangers-on at the gigs. There’ll be crickets.”

“Oh, shoot,” I said, already feeling awkward and uncool. Especially in the face of my sister’s decidedly cooler problems.

“Yeah, it sucks, but the guy was a piece of shit, egotistical prick, anyhoo . . . I’m sure we’ll recover. As long as we can find someone new before the Tallywhacker’s gig.”

At sixteen, my baby sister — half-sister — was far cooler than I ever was. Or would be, for that matter. She played bass in her high school band, The Bus Stop Willies. And they were actually going places. A kind of pop-grunge revival group. They played gigs at bars and festivals, and a few weddings, and most of them weren’t even old enough to drink. They’d probably take more bookings if it weren’t for their name, but the teenage members were typically stubborn about changing it. Abby had been talking my ear off about this big Tallywhacker’s gig in the student union bar for months on end.

“So, you not going out tonight?” I said, unsure how I could offer any help with the bandmate search, having been declared officially ‘tragic’ at least twenty-four years ago.

“No. Sorry. You’re stuck with me all weekend.” She peeled off her boots and threw them towards her bag. “Wanna binge-watch the new series of Youngbloods, and eat pizza until we pop?”

My heart gave a pang of longing. We weren’t close. As far as siblings went. I was thirteen when Abby arrived with only a few weeks’ notice. Mum hadn’t been showing. She’d gone to the doctor complaining of bloating and backache, and came home with a grainy black and white ultrasound print-off, and an attention-thievingly long shopping list.

I had resented the baby for the longest time. Having been the only child and sole recipient of Mum and Phil’s affections. And then, when Abby had started school, I went off to uni in Bordalis, only coming home for the summer and the Winter Fest holidays. By the time I returned to Remy, key to my very own little flat in hand, Abby was neck-deep in secondary school, and already too cool, (or OG, or GOAT, or yort, or whatever the heck kids said these days) to pay her older sister any mind.

For so long I’d wanted us to have a relationship, like proper sisters. Giggling, and face masks, and boy talk, the works. But since moving back home, we’d hardly been in the same room for longer than five minutes. No mean feat given we shared a bedroom. All totally down to her super hectic social life, nothing to do with me. I tended to watch tapir documentaries on my phone. Or played on my pocket console while stuffing my gob with Gnomies or Peanut Whizzos. All from the comfort of my fluffyGroovy Graham and Palspyjamas and the bottom bunk.

“We can hang out tonight, but I’ve got plans for tomorrow night. I won’t be here,” I said.

“Oh?” She plopped herself next to me, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline.

Abby was all Phil, blonde hair, tall, willowy thin. Whereas I was told I was more like my birth dad. Short, squishy round the middle, dark brown hair, and light brown skin. He left when I was a baby, and nobody had heard from him since. I remembered nothing about him.

“I’m going to . . . a sort of sleepover. With . . . uh, a guy. From work.”

She scooted closer to me. “O. M. Gees! You’ve got a D appointment.”

“No! No, he’s just a friend.” None of that sentence was true. My cheeks heated.

“Yeah, a friend with benefits.”

“No. No. Yes. Sort of.”

“Holly!” Out of nowhere, she hugged me. “I’m so excited for you. Please tell me everything immediately. As soon as it happens, okay? Even whilst it’s happening.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for just a second. If this was what helped me to get closer to my sister, then so be it.

“Okay. I promise I’ll tell you . . . not everything, but enough.”

She held out her baby finger, and I twisted mine around it. For all her cool girl imagery, I knew, or at least, I was almost certain, Abby was a virgin. But I remembered being her age and being just as intrigued-bordering-obsessed with learning everything I could about sex. It was only natural for her to be curious. And besides, surely it was my obligation as her older sister to help guide her through the minefield of adolescence.

---