Page 52 of Counterpoint and Harmony

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fugue:literally flight; a complex and highly regimented form of counterpoint. A short theme is introduced in one voice alone, then in others, with imitation and characteristic development as the piece progresses.

Damian

Charlie’s eyes remain tightly closed as I disentangle myself from her, carefully holding onto the condom so it doesn’t spill. I take a breath to say something, but decide to clean up quickly first. Then we can address whatever she’s feeling that’s making her act this way.

But when I come out of the bathroom, she’s sitting up, propped up with her palms flat on the bed behind her. She looks me over brazenly, her eyes scanning down my body and back up again, one corner of her mouth tipped up in a sinful smile.

“So Carla liked the show?”

I blink at the unexpected question. “Uh, yeah. She was thrilled. Surely you noticed from the way she gushed when we were with you.”

Her smile lifts the other side of her mouth now. “Yeah. It’s always fun to make someone’s day like that.”

“Try making her year. Maybe her entire high school career. I think this weekend will forever live as the best weekend in all of high school. And you’ve cemented my place as her favorite brother, so thanks for that.”

She gives a tiny half shrug, the movement making her breast bounce a little, drawing my eyes. When I look at her face again, her smile has turned knowing. “My pleasure,” she says.

Glancing away, I clear my throat, determined to bring up the eye closing and weirdly neutral topic of conversation. Especially since we’re both still naked, and I’m still half-hard after our most recent round of sex. “You really want to talk about my sister right now?”

She stands, the movement drawing my eyes as she reaches for her discarded clothes, pulling her ribbed tank top over her head, no bra. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looks at me as she bunches the fabric of half her leggings in one hand before sliding her foot inside. “Not really.”

“Why are you getting dressed?”

Her eyebrows jump on her forehead, and she stands, pulling her leggings the rest of the way up, tugging at the fabric around her thighs until she’s satisfied. She yawns, stretching her arms up and over her head, arching her back so her unfettered breasts press against the fabric of her top. My eyes drop to them, mesmerized.

When her posture goes back to normal, she clears her throat, a smirk on her face when my eyes find their way there again. “I’m tired, Damian,” she says softly. “It’s been a long day.”

Now it’s my eyebrows doing the jumping. “It’s still pretty early for you to be going to bed on a show night.”

She shrugs, turning away to pull back the covers on the bed. I don’t know what to do with this. This isn’t the way we’ve ever been with each other. But she’s shutting me out right now, as surely as she ever has.

Reaching for my jeans, I pull my boxer briefs out, my movements jerky, betraying my irritation. I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down before I say anything. After I have my clothes on, I straighten my hair and reach for my glasses. Charlie still isn’t looking at me. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at her hands.

When I clear my throat, she looks up. “I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

Her expression remains bland as she stares at me, wordless. I wait, but still nothing. So I cross the gulf between us, tip her face up and place a soft kiss on her lips, unwilling to leave without some token of … I’m not sure what. Affection? Reassurance? All of that, I suppose.

“Goodnight, Charlie. Sweet dreams.” On those soft, parting words, I head to the door and let myself out without looking back.

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