Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card

STORM JESS

The TV cast a dim glow over the apartment as I sat beside Laura, clutching the remote so tightly my fingers were numb. The news channel's monotonous voice was barely audible over the drumming of Laura's nails on the coffee table. Each tap echoed louder than the last counting down to the next breaking update.

We'd been watching the same footage for the last hour:

Blurry shots of rain-lashed skies

Wind-bending palm trees

Waterlogged streets swallowing entire neighborhoods

Luke's plane was somewhere out there-right in the heart of the storm. I swallowed the tightness in my throat and forced a reassuring smile.

"They're fine, Laura," I whispered, reaching over to still her hand. "They're probably rerouted, or they'll land somewhere safe until the weather clears up. It's just... just a delay."

Laura's eyes were wide, unblinking, locked on the screen. "A delay? Jess, look at that!" She pointed at the looping footage, her voice quivering. "They're saying this storm is... it's one of the worst in years. And-and they were heading right into it." My gut twisted at her words, and I took a shaky breath. I had to

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calm. "It's just a tropical storm," I said, as much for myself as for her. "Planes deal with these things all the time. They wouldn't take any chances with the

understand. I tried calling the airport, Jess. They... they wouldn't tell

to keep my tone level. "They'll call as soon as they know something, I

phone as if it might magically light up with the news. "You're right," she mumbled, barely a whisper, but I could see the sheen of tears in

I almost threw a paintbrush at him. What if... What if..."

second, I didn't know what to say. My own fear was curling inside me

walk through that door with a million stories about how they braved the storm,

laughed-a small, broken sound, but at least it was something. "Josh would do that," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "He'd make it into some

onto that image like a lifeline. Josh,

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288 Mouchero

got when things went south. But the image slipped, replaced by the thought of him. somewhere out there, fighting for control in a jet being

airfield, her raincoat plastered to her body by the relentless downpour. Behind her, airport personnel scurried about, their faces tense. "We're getting reports now

face

her tightly. "No," I said, with a conviction I barely felt. "They wouldn't

sniffed, lifting her face just enough to give me a questioning look. "How can

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paused, my heart stuttering. How did