Page 4 of Huge

“It’s just a costume,” I say, keeping my voice low.

“That’s not a costume,” he says huskily. “It’s a work of art.”

I grin at him and do an exaggerated curtsy. “Glad it worked out so well.”

“It really did.” He shakes his head. “You gonna give me a twirl so I can see it in all its glory?”

“If you want.” I pivot on my ridiculous heels, concentrating so I don’t fall and make a fool of myself.

“Damn,” he mutters, and when I turn back to face him, he has a hand over his heart. “If I wasn’t so young and fit, you might have just given me a heart attack.”

“Shut up,” I say, tossing the hair of my wig over my shoulder. The black strands tickle my bare back.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I’m Harrison, by the way.” He holds his hand out for me to shake and I want to laugh at how different he is to me when he thinks I’m not his stepsister, just a hot piece of ass ripe for the picking.

“Mandy,” I say. It’s the first name that comes into my head.

“Short for Amanda?”

“Just Mandy.”

“It’s cute. Reminds me of the show…Morkand Mandy.”

“That was Mindy!” I splutter with laughter, and he puts his hands on his hips.

“Don’t you know that guys hate being laughed at?” he says in a mock-serious voice. I know all his tones, having lived with him for so long. For the first time since I came up with this ridiculous plan, I feel predatory. If I ever get him upstairs, I know he’ll enjoy himself, and if I can keep in character, he’ll never know it was me, but I’ll know. I’ll remember that I used my knowledge of him as my stepbrother to seduce him, and rather than it making me feel powerful, suddenly I feel manipulative.

I shrug my shoulders, feeling despondent, the idea of going home seriously crossing my mind. All the preparation, all the secret longing, seems ridiculous. What kind of person am I to put my own desires and feelings above someone else’s in such a big way, particularly someone that I know and care for?

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on the top of my arm. “I was only joking.”

“I know,” I whisper. It’s too noisy for him to hear my mouse-voice, but he must lip read.

“You want to go somewhere for a bit? Somewhere quieter?”

“Sure,” I say. This is exactly what I was hoping for, but now my success tastes bitter. Still, I follow him out of the main room, down a corridor that’s lined with people chatting and drinking, and into a small side room that’s like a study but with comfortable chairs.

Harrison flops down on the couch, pulls off his mask, and opens the fastenings on his robe.

“Such a relief to take this thing off,” he says, chuckling it onto the floor. His hair is mussed, and he runs his hands over it in a way that seems ridiculously sexy.

Maybe it isn’t.

Maybe I’m just a loser with a crush that would think anything about the boy I like is cute.

I go to sit down next to him just as he throws his arm along the back of the couch. Suddenly, I find myself sitting with his arm around me. “So Mandy, with the sexy costume, where are you from?”

“I’m local,” I say, almost choking on the words. From the bedroom, next door to yours would be the truthful answer, but I can’t give away my secret.

“How come I haven’t seen you around?” His eyes travel from my face and rest on the hemline of my skirt that has ridden up so high I’m an inch off flashing my panties at him.

“Maybe you have,” I whisper, knowing I’m heading into dangerous territory but seemingly unable to stop myself.

“I think I would have remembered.” Harrison pauses and looks around the room. “Are you okay now? Out there, you seemed a bit upset.”

“I’m okay.”

“Are you sure that guy didn’t hurt you?”

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