Stewing and surprise messages

Needless to say, it was a confusing week for me. That day felt like it had just turned our whole situation on its head – all of Max’s comments about my mystery girl and how I was acting, the way Charley and I had ended up during movie night, and of course – that kiss the morning after.

Fuck, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I knew that this was all probably a bit pathetic of me, obsessing over a kiss like I was twelve years old. But this wasn’t just some girl I liked in my year 2 geography class.

This was Charley. The smartest, hottest, kindest person I’d ever met. The most incredible person I knew. The girl I’d been infatuated with for well over half my life.

And of course, also my stepsister. A fact which was still complicating things, to put it mildly.

But despite that little detail, I felt really, really good. Now, like I mentioned before, I had been in a somewhat permanent good mood since Charley and I had agreed to start sleeping together. But what I was feeling after that day was something else entirely. It was like this constant, fluttering ache in my chest – which I guess sounds bad, but was weirdly the most amazing thing in the world.

Except I wasn’t so sure it was a good thing at all.

It’s probably difficult to see how that could be a problem. I was racking my brain trying to figure it out myself – until I realized it wasn’t actually a problem in and of itself. The problem was that there was something else I was feeling alongside it, and it was jumbling up all my emotions.

The thing is, it wasn’t guilt. That was what was strange – guilt I was familiar with, could handle. I’d felt guilty about liking Charley almost since the day we met, and I understood why. We were family, and you shouldn’t be sexually attracted to your family. It was an open and shut case.

But I couldn’t wrap my head around this new feeling, figure out what it was. And I definitely didn’t understand what it came with – something that almost felt like … fear.

Or maybe I did know what it was, and why I would be afraid. But I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.

Anyway, my mind was racing so much over the next few days that it was pretty difficult to get anything done. It was another stay-at-home period for me, playing PlayStation mindlessly, and counting down the days until Friday when I promised I’d go over to Charley’s. I was simultaneously ecstatic and terrified about what would happen.

By Thursday, there was literally nothing else on my mind except my stepsister. At least, there wasn’t until that evening, when my phone buzzed with a text message.

It was from my mum. My biological mum.

Hey, I’m back in town! Would love to meet up for lunch or coffee if you’re not too busy.

As I stared at the message, I felt a strange mix of emotions. Ever since she and my dad had divorced, she’d essentially been out of the picture. Working as an archaeologist, she had always been a bit aloof, mind always focused on excavation sites, not her family. And as soon as the papers were signed, and it was agreed that I would be living with Dad, she had fucked off to Egypt or Peru or wherever it was, pretty much for good.

I made a big deal previously about how little Charley and I had kept in contact while she was at Stanford, but my mum and I were on a whole different level. Since I was six, I’d seen her a grand total of five times, spread out across fourteen years. No calls, messages, birthday cards – nothing. Just five texts from her, alerting me she was in London and available to meet.

Luckily, I had gotten over it a long time ago. Pretty much the moment I was introduced to Miss Kim and her daughter, and was told they were going to part of the family. So, whenever I did end up seeing my mum again, it wasn’t like it was a bitter reunion. I had no resentment or anything. We’d exchange pleasantries, catch up on the last few years, and then go our separate ways.

That being said, I decided to let the message sit for a while. Didn’t want to make it seem like I was **** to see her again or anything.