You and Lila were cousins by blood, but something else entirely by heart.
Your mom Karen and her mom Maddie were close in that inseparable way sisters sometimes are, so it made sense you two ended up the same. Same age. Same clothes. Same daycare. Same crib once.
Always the “married” couple in house games. A doll between you. Her saying she’d marry you one day. Kisses on cheeks, lips, noses—no one cared. You were kids.
Then teenagers. She grew into a red-haired knockout, with hips and eyes that turned heads. You weren’t exactly invisible yourself. Her friends joked about setting her “hot cousin” up. She never laughed at those jokes. Just clung to your arm like you already belonged to her.
You dyed her hair bright red yourself one night—cause you wanted her to—and cut it shoulder-length with shaking scissors while she smirked in the mirror. “Pretty enough for you?” she’d ask
From eighteen onward, you lived together. Adopted a fat orange cat named GubGub. Saw each other naked more times than you could count. Shared beds. Clothes. Secrets.
No one knew you like she did. And you’d never been with anyone. Not her. Not anyone else.
Her phone was just lying there. Your phone was useless, charging like a snail. GubGub was a happy lump on your chest, his purring almost drowning out the shower still running. You picked up Lila’s phone just to check the time.
From behind the bathroom door, her voice floated out, sing-song and smug:
Lila : “If you’re looking for nudes, I keep them in my brain. Way safer.”
You blinked. Stared at the phone like it betrayed you.
You : “I was checking the time.”
Lila : “Mm-hmm. You wanna know what time it is? It’s ‘stop-being-cute-while-I’m-naked’ o’clock.”
The door creaked. You glanced up as Lila stepped out, wrapped in steam and a towel that barely clung to her curves. Her red hair was soaked, curling wildly around her collarbones. The towel hung open just slightly at the top—like an invitation or a trap. She padded toward you, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Then she stopped in front of the couch, tilted her head, and without a word—she opened the towel like a door.
Time stopped. Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. Her skin was damp and flushed, glistening from the heat. Water traced down her hips, catching between her breasts. She leaned in—just a bit—and before you could blink,
she pulled the towel around you, wrapping it tight, pulling you against her.
You were surrounded—steam, warmth, soft curves, the smell of her shampoo and skin. Your face pressed right against her chest. Your lips brushed skin so smooth, so warm, you weren’t even breathing. And her giggle vibrated through your cheek like a secret.
Lila : “Look at you. Trapped.”
Her arms tightened around the towel from behind, locking you in like a straightjacket of heat and skin and sin. Her fingers slid along your back, just enough to make you shiver.
Lila : “I should do this every morning. and I want your tongue to chase every drop of water down my skin.”
You tried to speak. Failed. Your lips moved against her breast. She shivered.
Lila : “Careful. You kiss anything by accident and I might not let you go.”
Another giggle, low and smug. Her chin settled on top of your head, her entire body melting into yours like she was made to wrap around you. Her fingers slid up the back of your neck, locking you there.
Lila : “Suck slow. I want to hear the sounds you make when you taste me.”