Wrong;;

Many expressions of Liam

She cast a glance at him, noting the water that clung to the tips of his hair, which always seemed just a bit too long for her liking, dripping down to his pale shoulders and along his skinny torso. Leaning back against the cold tile, she brushed her teeth absently and watched him. Calvin was making such a concentrated effort not to look at her, but she could see the way he peered at her from the corner of his eyes. Cute, she thought wryly, bending over again to spit the toothpaste out, knowing that she was giving him a perfect view of her pert breasts, pushed together thanks to her one-size-too-small bra. It was almost too easy.

“Hey man,” she said defensively, nudging his hip with her toe, dropping her toothbrush into the cracked mug on the counter with a clatter, “we use the gifts we’re given. I can’t help that I’ve got tits that everyone digs.” The jab was double edged, and she wasn’t sure if he got her meaning, but she shrugged her shoulders delicately and slid off the counter, landing beside him with two quiet footfalls. Calvin was so tall. He towered over her, her face level with the bony joint of his shoulder and the smattering of freckles that covered it. “You’re getting the floor all wet,” she whined with a wrinkle of her nose, stepping back from the drops that flew off his comb. “Gross.” 

Ignoring the jibe about being “normal”, she followed him into his bedroom, morbidly curious about how it looked. She had never been in there before. As teenage siblings, there was a bit of an unwritten rule about staying clear of bedrooms, though she did catch a glimpse of it now and then when the door to the bathroom was open. But actually being inside? This was a first. The floor was littered with clothes and garbage and those annoying manga comic books he was always reading, with posters on the walls of scantily clad girls and his computer resting on a messy desk, turned on, of course. Ree raised an eyebrow as she stepped through the door, neither surprised nor impressed by the set up. It more or less looked like every other boy’s room she’d ever been in. “I forgot about your little lesbo friend,” she quipped, walking up to one of the posters and staring up at the leggy and flawless Olivia Wilde. “She must love your bedroom. Do you actually bring her up to this hovel?” Snorting out a laugh, she turned towards him again, crossing her arms in front of her stomach and smirking at him.

Over the years Calvin got used to sharing a bathroom with the girl, albeit little by little. About six months in, he stopped making the extra trip downstairs to take a dump. A month after that, he started leaving his acne cream and razor on the counter top, took a piss even though he knew she was in her room, and as time went on even became less conscious of leaving his skinny torso out in the world for her to see. And although he never got used to her thongs and trail of short-shorts and bras on the floor, he felt what could only be described as 'pride' in the fact that he no longer felt the overwhelming desire to instantly run out the door when he saw them, his ears and neck the color of Ree’s bra.

Calvin took a minimal sidestep as she poked at him with her toe. “Erm. Yeah. Okay.” And that should have been it… But because he was a idiotic, hormonal teenage boy, he stood by helplessly as his eyes once again wandered over her breasts as she backed away from him, whining about the amount of water he dripped on the floor. “Uh. Sorry. Ran out of towels.” Fucking idiot. You’re so going to hell.

It wasn’t until he was searching through his mostly empty dresser, looking for a clean shirt, that he realized that she had followed him into his room. He froze as she spoke, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed, doing an ultra quick scan of his bedroom in his head. Was there some incriminating evidence of what he’d done that night? Anything so personal or embarrassing that he would never be able to look at Ree in the face again?

After deciding that although his room was a disgusting mess he didn’t have anything that would be considered terribly embarrassing, he turned away from the dresser, giving up on the search for a shirt and walking a wide arc around the scantily-dressed girl for his backpack instead, a grimace on his face. “Erm. No… We usually hang out downst-…?” His words faded and the heat returned to his ears as he realized she was observing the half-naked poster of Olivia Wilde on his wall. For fucking fuck’s fucking sake. How the fuck did you forget about the posters?

“Uh-“ he tried to gather himself again, but it was dawning on him now that Ree was in his room, half-dressed, as was he. His bastard brain automatically began conjuring up thousands of ways this situation could progress (each more sinful then the last), and by the time she spoke again, her voice smooth and her eyes boring holes into his brain, Calvin knew he was too far in the trap to get out.

His mouth unable to close and his face and neck burned. His heart felt like the time he drank seven cans of Monster in one night out of curiosity and he stared at the girl in front of him, an unrecognizable expression on his face. His mind was at a complete standstill; it was as if his brain had decided to shut down, unable to process the torrents of information pouring in at once. Her giggle and the touch, however, seemed to finally break whatever spell he was under, as he blinked and unconsciously backed away from his step-sister.

Calvin did not bother to respond as she closed the door behind her. There wasn’t a comeback in the world for all she just said. Fucking hell. What the fuck was that? His jeans felt tight as he rubbed his hand over the spot where she’d touched him, feeling angry, confused, and very, very horny, all at the same time. What the fuck was she playing at? Scratching at his head in frustration, he grabbed a random shirt and sweatshirt off the floor and threw it on, trying his best to ignore the discomfort in his pants. It wasn’t like he had any time to take care of that anyway. Sulking, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and tried his best to put out all thoughts of Rhiannon Isles from his mind. Fuck it.

Fuck her.

He crashed his way downstairs and into the kitchen. Refusing to acknowledge any lifeforms seated in the room, Calvin grabbed two slices of toast and stuffed them into his mouth. He then pulled out a traveling mug from the cabinet and poured himself a large cup of coffee, his hood still firmly placed over his eyes. And although he knew his mom hated it when he left for school without saying good bye, Calvin walked out of the house to Ree’s car, leaning against the passenger door to finish his toast.

Rhiannon glanced at herself appraisingly in the full length mirror in her room, smoothing her hands over the curve of her ass, and narrowing her eyes as her gaze raked down her thighs. These jeans weren’t the most flattering that she owned, far less form fitting than she normally wore, but the only pair approved by her overbearing father. After she had shown up downstairs a few days prior wearing a tight, ripped pair that she had invested a fair bit of money in, fiercely protective Dan had sent her back to her room with very strict instructions. Nothing snug. Nothing damaged. Essentially, nothing that Ree had in her “parent approved” wardrobe. She didn’t even want to think of what her father would say if he found out about the clothes she changed into once she was far enough away from the house.

Turning back towards the mirror, Ree gave a dissatisfied sigh and readjusted the straps of her red bra, her head tilted to the side. It really was a shame that her father didn’t let her flaunt what she had. After taking up yoga and running over the past summer, she was in even better shape than before, and yet Dan wanted it hidden beneath baggy sweaters and loose pants. Thankfully, she thought to herself with a mischievous smirk, the black tank top and tartan skirt she had stowed away in her bag would put it on display quite nicely. The only trick was getting out of the house without being randomly searched or questioned by dear old dad. And that would require some careful time management and exact planning. A quick glance at her watch told her she had eight minutes to finish getting ready before her dad stepped out of the shower, and Ree raced through her mental checklist before grabbing her bag and heading to the bathroom. She’d finish getting dressed after she brushed her teeth. Thank god for split level houses.

But when she nudged open the door with the toe of her boot, her heart sank a bit to see Calvin standing over the sink, half dressed himself, and his mouth full of toothpaste. “Hey,” she said with a bit of a sigh, dropping her bag at his feet and reaching across him for her purple toothbrush. Despite living together for the past few years, she and Calvin didn’t have a reputation for having the most stellar conversations. They got along well enough – especially for step siblings, apparently – but that didn’t mean she looked forward to their somewhat awkward interactions. She’d been trying to lighten him up with some harmless jokes and flirting ever since their parents had gotten married, but Calvin was either gay or brain dead, because nothing worked.

Grabbing the tube of toothpaste, she squeezed some over the bristles of her brush before hopping onto the counter and glancing over at her step brother. “So, what’s the haps, VQ? Totally psyched for Algebra, or what?” Not being a particularly strong student, Ree had been forced to retake Grade 11 Algebra, which wound up being the same course Calvin, at seventeen, was taking for the first time. Luckily, being a year apart and in totally separate social circles meant that they rarely ran into each other at school outside of that particular class, but it almost impossible to ignore each other when everyone knew they were related by marriage. Even though they sat far away from one another, their teacher somewhat always thought it was a great idea to partner them up together.

He'd hit the snooze button one too many times (three times, to be specific), putting him effectively half an hour behind schedule. Not that he had a morning schedule. But it wasn't really his fault; the updated version of Counter Strike had been released at midnight, and he and his teammates had to get used to the program before their game on Saturday. So he hadn't collapsed, still dressed, into his bed until around 4am. 

"Fuck!" He leaped out of bed, pulling off his shirt and jeans and wildly looking around his room for a pair of clean boxers. Calvin had planned on taking a shower in the morning; Bernedette had spilled a large coke on him at the movie theater the evening before and a shower was pretty necessary.  

"Shiiiit."

Grabbing a pair of grey boxers out of his open dresser and picking up a random pair of jeans off the floor (hopefully it didn't have a gross stain on it), he jumped into the shower just in time to be assaulted by the coldest of waters. 

"DAN!" Calvin yelped, jumping out of the shower stream and into the wall of the bath tub. His stepfather had quite a habit of using up all the hot water in the morning, and in his haste, Calvin had forgotten about this particular fact. "Jesus fucking Christ, for fuck's fucking sake you fucking ass!" He jiggled the shower knob, hoping for some miracle to grace his shoulders and turn the water warm, but no such luck. Finally he decided to hop in and out of the water, attempting to get one piece of him cleaned at a time. Hair. Arms. Leg. The other leg. In. Out.

At least if there was any part of him that was not fully awake before, it was now.

After the fastest shower of Calvin's young life he situated himself at the sink, half dressed, his hair a wet mop on top of his head and his torso still dripping with water. He'd run out of clean towels three days ago but frankly, laundry was the bane of his existence; therefore, all his dirty towels created an impressive pile on the floor of his bedroom while he remained wet and unable to dry. He would have taken one of Ree's towels, but they were super fluffy, not to mention she probably would knock his head off with one of her combat boots if she knew he used one. 

He had just about finished brushing his teeth when the door across the room opened, presenting Calvin's stepsister in a pair of loose jeans and… 

Quickly he averted his eyes, turning to look at himself in the mirror instead of the red, lacy lingerie number. Shit. Shit.

He awkwardly nodded in her direction, acknowledging her existence before bowing his head to spit into the sink. Ugh. She would do this. Embarrassment, Ree was not thy name. He remained completely focused at the pattern of the countertop as he rinsed out his mouth, throwing an involuntary glance her way once or twice as she jumped on the counter… And her breasts jiggled.

Immediately his thoughts strayed to a few nights ago, when he had caught a glimpse of her as she stepped out of the shower and walked into her room, sans towel. She had very perky breasts, the kind that looked like she was wearing a bra even when she wasn't. He'd imagined, guiltily, taking them into his mouth as he jacked off that night…

So distracted from his current thoughts, he almost missed when she spoke again. He rolled his eyes at the nickname she coined for him, glad to have been ripped out of his train of thought before a physical reaction occurred. "Yeah, sure," he replied, his surprising bass a bored monotone, as he wiped his mouth with his arm and grabbed a comb from the counter to brush his hair out. The water dripped from the comb onto his jeans and the floor of the bathroom, which provided an excellent distraction that he could focus on (by wiping away the drops with his big toe) as she stuck out her cleavage, causing it to bounce around again. She had to know how fucked up this was. There's no way she didn't know.

"Bernadette owes me answers as an 'I owe you' for dumping the entire contents of her coke in my lap so I'll have the answers by class. No need to try and distract the teacher with your… Rack."