“Sisters?” My mind ground to a halt, shocked by the insanity of what Deen was suggesting. Or maybe I understood it wrongly. “What do you mean by that?” I asked, hoping that Deen had a shred of decency left.

  “Sisters. Sister play,” she said as if it was the most logical thing in the world. “I can be the older one or the younger. It doesn’t matter. You decide.”

  “We pretend we’re sisters and then…?”

  She shrugged. “You eat me out.”

  “To clarify, you want… incest lesbian play.”

  Deen exhaled, shaking her head. “Don’t spell it out like that. You’re making it sound like I have twisted sexual fantasies.”

  “You do,” I said, deadpan. Sometimes, I wondered what my life would be if I hadn’t become an Adumbrae. I wouldn’t have lived with Deen. We wouldn’t have gotten closer, and things wouldn’t have escalated to this nonsense. Maybe the world was punishing me for everyone that I had bothered?

  “Yeah, I do,” Deen replied. “But don’t expressly say it because it goes against my image. You’re making me look weird.”

  “You are weird,” I said, poking her cheek. “And you are freaky. Are you serious about it, or are you just messing with me?”

  “A hundred percent serious. Thinking about it, I think you should be the elder sister. That would explain why you’re the dominant one between us two. And then—”

  “The hell? You’ve got this all planned out?”

  “And then, Deen repeated with emphasis, glaring at me for interrupting her, “I’ll be the younger sister. We can be half-sisters or something—”

  “Do you have a plot outline for this?”

  “—to explain why we look different, like, why I’m taller and hotter than you.”

  “Hey!” I knocked on her temple with my knuckle. It didn’t hurt her, of course. I really wanted to hurt her, but her Guardian Angel would warn her. Was Deen hiding this side of her all along? That said, I related to her making up scenarios. That was my thing. These could be the reasons why we became best friends even though we were as opposite as could be.

  She recoiled from my knock, pretending to be hurt. “Don’t hurt me, elder sister…” Then she laughed out loud.

  I frowned. “Elder sister? Older or elder? Which one is correct?”

  Deen giggled. “I find it cute when you go on random tangents like that.”

  I ignored her comment. “The word ‘elder’ makes it sound like we have a huge age gap, and I have like a high position or whatnot.”

  “Older can refer to persons and things,” Deen explained as she pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed. I sat in front of her, cross-legged, with our knees touching. “Elder only refers to persons,” she continued. “But, yeah, there’s a certain attachment of respect when using the word ‘elder’.” She shrugged. “I respect you, so I’ll call you elder sister.”

  “You’re really continuing with this, huh?”

  She eagerly nodded, grinning widely. “Pretty please? You’ll make my day if you do this for me.”

  “Night,” I muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  “Night. It’s already night. I’ll make your night if I agree with this nonsense.”

  Deen smiled. “That’s just so adorable.” She leaned forward and pecked my lips. As our lips lost contact, she said, “Are you willing to do it?”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Fine… For our friendship. I guess, it’s a sisterhood now.” This’d probably feel like I was acting in a movie. This might actually be fun. Be open to new experiences, right?

  “Hurray!” Deen hugged me. I hugged her back; I was getting into my role. She pipped in surprise, not expecting it.

  I didn’t let go of her. I started to playfully scratch her back. “So, Deen… as your older sister, I’ll have to ask how your studies are?” I snorted. “I’m not good at this.”

  “You’re doing great,” Deen said, giggling. She made me wonder if she did some kind of play during her past relationships. Probably. Where else would she have gotten this idea? “I’m not sure what to tell you about my studies. We’ve moved to online classes because of the Adumbrae situation in La Esperanza. You should know that because we’re classmates,” she added, laughing.

  “Oh, that’s right. How did it happen then? Like, we’re from different families?”

  Deen nodded, her chin bouncing on my shoulder. Her signature cotton candy scent wafted over, familiar and comforting. I was liking our hug, weirdly enough. “Yes, you’re from the first family,” she said. “I’m from the second. Our father left your mother, which is why we didn’t connect with each other.”

  “Oh, I like plotting a story,” I excitedly said. I was warming up to this role-playing thing now. Wasn’t this very similar to wearing a face? “I didn’t know that you were going to Cresthorne Law, and you didn’t know about me either. We met on campus for the first time in ages, and it was awkward between us. We wanted to become friends because our father’s cheating wasn’t our fault. Sisters wanting to connect and all that. The story is coming together nicely.”

  “See? You’re getting into it.” Deen pulled away and backed up to the headboard. “Why are we in Vegas?”

  “The Adumbrae attack. We wanted to leave La Esperanza. It just so happens that we have a condo here, and I invited you to stay with me. You didn’t have anywhere else to go.” I finally had an enjoyable pastime shared with Deen—making up stories. ‘Pastime’ might not be the appropriate term. We both knew that it wouldn’t stop here; this’d progress to spicy moments later.

  “Are we alone here?” she asked, letting me take the lead in setting up the scenario.

  “Yep. Just ignore Mom. But don’t make too loud a noise that you’ll alert her.”

  Deen raised a brow. “Do you think you can make me scream?”

  “What scream are you talking about, little sister? Uh, well, younger sister. You’re not exactly little. Anyway, I have no idea what ‘scream’ are you talking about?” I looked her over, deciding what to do. I held her feet and gently straightened her legs. “You must be tired from all the walking we did the entire day,” I said, starting to massage her feet. “Let me help you with that.”

  Deen snorted, trying to control her laughter.

  “Hey, don’t ruin our skit,” I said, squeezing her feet. “I’m committing to my part here!”

  “Sorry, sorry.” She wiped her face and put on a serious expression. “Yeah, my feet hurt. Thanks for the massage, elder sister.”

  “Can you just drop the ‘elder’? Sounds like we’re in a cult. Just call me sis.”

  Deen gasped. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me. I’ll call you sis, all the time.”

  “Just for this bit!”

  “All the time,” she said, emphasizing every word. “Anyway, sis, do you like girls?”

  “That’s too fast.” I squeezed her feet again. “Don’t ruin the scene. The progress of events should be natural. You don’t pop a question like that without any connection. We need to build the relationship first, then proceed to flirting. When there’s enough sexual tension, we can proceed to foreplay.”

  “Are you the director of this movie?”

  I nodded. Deen was speaking my language. “Yep, yep. Let’s return to the scene.” I massaged her feet. “Are you ticklish here?” I scratched the soles of her feet.

  “Stop that!” Deen squirmed and tried to pull her legs away.

  I grabbed her right ankle with one hand and continued tinkling her right foot with my other hand. Deen shrieked with laughter as she twisted around the bed like a thrashing python. She almost kicked me away. Bitch, using superstrength. She must be ticklish.

  I stopped tickling her and exaggeratedly fell on top of her, grabbing onto her right breast to stop myself. Our eyes locked. I gave her boob a squeeze. “Wow, sis, you really have huge tits,” I said. “Too bad I didn’t inherit these genes.”

  “Oh, don’t be like that,” she said, reaching for my butt. “I’m sure you have assets too.” She squeezed my nonexistent ass. “I guess you don’t.”

  “Wow, dissing your older sister!” I squeezed both her breasts. “Just because you’re the own blessed by genetics doesn’t mean you can look down on us lesser mortals!”

  “Stop that,” Deen pushed my hands away and covered her breasts with folded arms. “I’m conscious about this, you know? My body is what guys always think about.”

  “Humble-bragging there, sis?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Well, I’m also serious that you should be proud of your assets. Those are real, right? You didn’t—?”

  “These are real,” she said, pulling my hand to her breast. “Feel them!’