Sunlight wakes me.
I lie, eyes closed, watching the flashes of light and shadow on the inside of my eyelids; enjoying the peace, the quiet. It’s still early, I think – dappling like this through the leaves of my birch tree means the sun is still low in the sky, which in turn implies that I don’t have to wake up just yet. There’s still time for me to be here, in my favourite place.
With her.
I can feel her next to me – hear the soft sound of her breathing, smell the scent of her on the pillows and sheets. Were I to just roll over, I could feel all of her against me. But that would wake her. Not yet, not yet. This is my time, my perfect, quiet time. No cares, no fears, just her and me and our space, our sanctuary.
She’s lying on her side as usual, facing away from me. It’s adorable. Robyn always falls asleep holding me, and always wakes up curled into a ball on her side, with her back to me as if she’s a cat in a sunbeam. I can see the light dusting of freckles on her neck, and the scar from her fall in the shower those brief few weeks ago. I still feel guilty about that; she’ll always have it there, just behind her right ear – two jagged inches to continually remind me of my stupidity.
She’s joked that it’s my mark on her to show she’s mine… but I still sometimes wake in cold sweats from nightmares in which her fall was far, far worse and I was bereft of the only person I had left.
I lie and watch her gently breathing, content to let time pass as it will, without my interference.
It’s been three glorious weeks since I got my Robyn. Three long, sensual, gorgeous weeks in which my life has had a near-permanent rosy glow. I find myself humming all the time; I have more energy, I feel alive again for the first time since I caught Andrew cheating on me. She’s given herself to me utterly, and I’ve in turn surrendered everything of myself to her. I’ve never felt this close to any other person, ever, and having her to myself feels like the greatest gift I’ve ever been given.
She’s a shade over twenty-one, my Robs. A hard-bodied hottie with a grizzled soul and the dogged desire to never see the best in herself. I’m chipping slowly away at that. I view her as a long-term project… my magnum opus, if you will. I’ve always looked after her, see. Ever since Mum and Dad… well, we’re the only family we have, and we’ve guarded one another fiercely since then.
A moment of bitter-sweetness. Honestly, Robyn’s never needed much guarding. She’s always been driven and has never given tuppence about anyone’s feelings but mine. She’s always been vocal (and physically demonstrative) about this. It’s cost her friends.
But… there’ve been times when the knowledge that she loved me has been all that’s kept me going.
My poor, cynical sister. Hard as diamond until something knocks her in the wrong place and she goes to pieces.
Me? More like ice, I think. I melt, and run down into deep, dark caverns far, far away.
Robyn is the only one who can find me and bring me back from them.
—
I’ve always liked boys. They’re gorgeous creatures, truly… and there’re few things as delicious as the feeling of a man deep in me. But sometime around the age of seventeen I realised that I liked girls too. Kind of embarrassing to work out that you’re a degenerate when you’re surrounded by other lycra-clad women at a dance class, but there you have it. Broken little Lexi the letcher, that’s me.
I guess knowing yourself is the first step towards healing or some such rubbish.
I can’t remember when it was I first realised that I wanted her. I guess I just gradually came to understand that I wasn’t only interested in her as my younger sibling. I’d catch myself watching her when she wasn’t looking; taking chances to spend more time doing the things I knew she enjoyed. I’ve felt supremely guilty at times, worried that I was taking hideous advantage of someone who depended so utterly on me.
Then, I started to notice things about Robs as well. She’d spend time with me she didn’t have free to spend. She was always watching, always there. Somewhere, sometime, I realised that she was my shadow-self; anticipating and knowing my needs sometimes even before I realised they were there. She’d become as much my guardian as I was hers. And I needed her, needed her as close to me as my skin, as close to me as my heart.
But I could never take that step. Never break that boundary. I was too scared of losing her.
Until then. Until now.
—
God, her neck is exquisite. I don’t really know how long I’ve been staring at it; at the line her muscles make as they run from vertebrae to clavicle. Yes, at the freckles too. And the slightly tattered lobes of her ears that she insisted on piercing herself. And at the slight auburn undertone that shines through her thick brown hair when stray sunlight strikes it. At the gentle curve of her spine, disappearing under the sheets. At the faint white scar where she had a mole removed from her right shoulder. At the pale line of hairs just visible along the nape of her neck…
I have to restrain myself from reaching out and waking her. She deserves the rest, given how hard she’s been working these past few days. I’ve tried to help where I could. I smirk to myself. She’s had lots of frustration that needed working out. Baths. Backrubs. Lots of kissing. Lots of touching. I flush, amused at the way my body reacts to the memories.
I can’t restrain myself anymore, and I reach out to gently touch her back.
She makes a small noise, and uncurls. She rolls over onto her back, letting out a toussle-haired yawn. I grin a small, wicked grin and trail my fingers down over her exposed right breast, watching her nipple harden for me. I cup her breast, loving the heat of it and the shape it forms in my hand.
“Addict,” Robyn mutters sleepily.
“You would be too if you had this view,” I reply.
She turns her head and, smiling, waits for her good morning kiss – something she’s demanded from me every morning since our first night together. I oblige, teasingly, enjoying the little happy sound she makes as I kiss her. Then I bury my face in her neck and briefly lose myself in her scent, before pulling back and meeting her pale blue eyes.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” I tease.
“Lies. All lies.” she responds, yawning again. “I’ve been dozing, not sleeping. Been awake since forever.”
“I believe you, millions wouldn’t. You pretend to snore really well. We should record it and sell it. We’d make our fortune.”
Robs’ laugh has always cheered me up; her mellow alto voice would make her a fantastic blues singer if she weren’t so self-conscious. When she’s sleepy it sounds like honey poured over smoke, and it makes me hot just listening to it. I’ve occasionally fantasised about taping her for my own personal enjoyment, but I know it would embarrass her too much. Pity.
“Plan for today?” she asks me, voice going slightly breathy as she stretches the kinks out of her back.
“Mm,” I return. “Dunno. It’s weekend. Apart from my dress-rehearsal tomorrow night, I have no plans.”
“Oh, yeah,” Robs says, quietly. “I’d almost forgotten that. What time does it start?”
“Six-ish. Wanna come?”
“Won’t I disturb you?” she asks.
“Not if you’re quiet and well-behaved.”
“Have I ever been anything but?”
“Last night. At least twice,” I tease.
“Lexi!” she protests, laughing. “That doesn’t count, and you know it.”
I snuggle into her, enjoying the last little bit of quiet time prior to the day. She rewards me by rolling over towards me and wrapping one of her strong arms around me, holding me close. I close my eyes in bliss.
—
“You want anything in particular for breakfast, Lexi?”
I think. “Nah, not fussed Robs. Anything’s good. Muesli. Toast. You,” I grin. “Toast and you.”
“Alexis!” she groans, rolling her eyes at me. I’m gratified to see her flush in response to my teasing. Robs has always been such a serious girl; and after we lost Mum and Dad it sometimes seemed like she’d never smile again. But we both grew scabs over that wound, and slowly her brighter side emerged once more.
But it’s only these past three weeks where it has really shone through – since she came out to me and, I guess, since we acted on our mutual attraction for each other. I guess she’d been holding an enormous amount of stress and fear inside, because since that evening she’s a changed girl.
Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’s still a firecracker. Cross her and she’ll bite your legs off. She distrusts people, thinks they’ll let her down. God only knows how I’ve managed to avoid doing so, but somehow I’ve muddled through.
I grab us some bowls while she retrieves the cereals and milk. I set a place for her alongside me at the table so that I, slut that I am, can amuse myself by brushing various bits of me against her while we’re eating.
I can’t help it. She makes me playful. Having her makes me want to laugh, and dance, and sing. I want to touch her, to feel her, and being anywhere in public is a very real struggle not to be inappropriate with her.
And so we sit, squashed up next to each other at our table that could seat the clientele of a medium-sized restaurant. The image amuses me, and I’m certain Robs is having similar thoughts judging by the small smile she’s wearing as she tucks into breakfast. I sneak the odd look at her, and am glad to catch her doing the same. Neither of us have bothered to dress properly yet; she pulled on a tatty old tee-shirt and I’ve dragged on a rather threadbare nightie; the end result of course being that I have a lovely view of her bare hips while mine are coquettishly obscured by sheer fabric.
She drops her hand to my thigh at one point to squeeze it, and I press my right leg against her left, rewarding her with a smile. I love how tactile she is. I love that she wants to feel me, to let me know she’s there. Robs prior to us would never have dreamed of hugging me by surprise. Robs after us thinks nothing of it. It’s one of the many things that has changed between us. I love it.