Page 1 of Yours, Unexpectedly

“Fuuuuuck, Bex! Thank God. I need you to come pick me up!” I immediately pull my phone about a foot away from my ear as my oldest brother, Gabriel, drunkenly yells at me. This is not the first time this has happened. In fact, to say my brother is enjoying his last semester of undergrad would be the understatement of the century. What he usually forgets is that I am still a senior in high school, but as the only one of our siblings left at home, I am the perfect candidate for late night pickups.

I sneak a quick look at the clock—1:32 a.m. Seems about right. I heave a sigh. “Gabriel, it’s a Sunday night and I have school tomorrow. Actually,” I murmur, “it’s technically Monday and I have school in seven hours.”

“Ah shit—don’t full-name me, Bexy! All my days are blending together!” There is a long pause as I wait for the inevitable. “So can you come or not? You know it’s impossible to find a ride, and I definitely can’t walk because it’s, like, negative degrees outside.” I hear someone call his name in the background, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head. “Listen, I’ll text you the address and owe you for a million years. You are my favorite sister. Byeeee!” The line goes dead.

Did that asshole just hang up on me?!

A text comes through with an address and three red heart emojis. My stupid fucking brothers and my stupid fucking conscience are going to kill me. I plug the address into my maps, toss my hair in a messy bun, and slide into my favorite bunny slippers. I might be the baby of the family but mom and dad would kill me and Gabe if they found out I was sneaking out to pick him up, so I slowly crack my bedroom window open and hop into the freezing Massachusetts winter, car keys in hand.

Ten minutes later, I pull up to the address that Gabe texted. We’re a few blocks away from Hawthorne University where he goes to school and where I’ll start undergrad next year. The party spills out onto the lawn, red solo cups littering every inch I can see. This close to campus, it’s mostly off-campus student houses for the small university, but I can’t help but wonder what small-town gossip will come out of tonight. I grab my phone and text Gabriel.

I’m here.

Best Big Bro

be right out *angel emoji*

I have to suppress another laugh at the name he saved himself as in my phone and tap my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the bass thumping out of the house. A loud cheer erupts and I glance over toward the front window. That’s when I see him—Anders Olsson, Gabe’s best friend and roommate, right there in the front room, with some half-naked girl lazily hanging off of him.

I squint. Is she trying to unbutton his pants right there in the middle of the party? What the fuck?

I sink lower into my seat so I can keep watching. Anders and Gabe are always together and the times I’ve been around them, Anders is super flirty. But he seems like the kind of guy that is flirty with everyone. I mean, he is gorgeous. Slightly taller than average with a muscled dad bod look. He has a full head of red hair and a matching beard. A total Viking look, if you are into that kind of thing. Which I totally am.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about that beard between my legs a few times…

Ugh! Bex. Snap out of it. He’s definitely off limits. And there’s no way he would be into me anyway. I gaze down at my flannel grandma pajamas and grimace. Maybe I should have changed clothes.

I look up so I can go back to drooling over Anders and see Gabe walk up to him, gesturing outside. Anders gives a slow nod and begins to extricate himself from the aforementioned half-naked girl. I watch from my hunched over position as Gabe and Anders stumble out of the front door and down the walkway toward the car, laughing the whole way.

Wait, why are they both walking this way?

Panic hits me at the realization that I will also be giving a ride to Anders. Freaking fuck. I hazard a glance at myself in the rearview mirror and grimace when I remember that I didn’t take my makeup off last night. I internally vow to never forget makeup removal again as I swipe frantically under my eyes to try to remove the mascara smudges, just to make things worse.

This can’t be happening.

But apparently it is because Anders flings open the back door of the car as he says, “I think she would have fucked me in the living room.” A self-righteous, and purely male, smile paints his face as he unceremoniously shoves Gabe into the backseat before slamming the door and opening the passenger side.

“Baby Bardot!” he says as he falls into the seat right next to me. “How are you, Rebecca?” The syllables roll off his tongue and I do not hate it.

I should. But I don’t.

“Good! Me good. I mean, I’m good!” Oh God. It truly pisses me off how much my brain short-circuits around this man.

He leans over and damn, he smells good—woodsy and masculine. His stupid male pheromones pull me closer, but then I get a whiff of what is obviously Naked Girl's perfume mixed with vodka. I promptly turn my head toward the road and reach for the gear shift.

“I like your bunny slippers,” he whispers, far too close to my ear.

“Stop flirting with my sister! She doesn’t need your drunk ass trying to get in her pants, too!” Gabe shouts from where he’s assumed the fetal position in the back seat. I peek back at him and catch the smirk on Anders’ face.

He makes a show of glancing down at my legs. “But they are very cute pants, Gabe.”

Anddd my face is on fire. I reach over to turn on the A/C, even though it’s freezing outside. “How about you just try not to vomit in my car, mmk?” I reply to Gabe, and Anders huffs a laugh. Such a satisfying sound.

“Lessgoplease,” Gabe slurs.

The drive to their apartment is quick, thank God. I find a parking spot and move to get out, jerking to a stop when Anders grabs onto my arm, turning me to look at him. I am struck again with how hot he is. Green eyes pierce me, hazed over from alcohol but extremely sincere. “Thanks, Baby Bardot.” I wish he wouldn’t call me that. Tight lipped, I nod and then slip out of the car to help him haul Gabe upstairs.

“You’re the best baby sister in the world, Bex,” Gabe is mumbling. Embarrassment floods me at his reminder of what I am to both of them—Gabe’s baby sister.

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