The Twins & Me

Their First Time

My whole body is shaking as I slowly slip off Arlo. We're both sweating, and I notice a tremble in him as he sits up.

"Are you alright?" he asks, watching my expression.

Am I? What just happened? Ollie... made me have sex with Arlo? I'm wet and sticky between my legs; my clit throbs.

"Come on," Arlo says gently, pulling me up with him.

Unable to do anything else, I rise to my feet. He holds my hand as he leads us to the walk-in closet. The small walkway divides it in half, and on one side I spot Arlo's various clothes—

On the other, clothes I don't recognize.

"Do you two share a closet?" I ask in a small voice, beginning to put pieces together.

Arlo doesn't respond. He brings us through the closet to the bathroom, where he turns on the water in the large glass shower. He doesn't turn on the lights, which I'm grateful for. I'm not sure if I could stand for him to look at me right now; I'm not even sure I could stand to see the expression on my own face. I can just make out double sinks against the opposite wall with a large mirror above them; there's products on both sides. Next to the shower sits a large jacuzzi tub and on the far side of the room the toilet sits in its own room with the door open.

When the water warms up he brings me inside and shuts the glass door behind us. It slips into place with a quaint tink. He positions me under the stream of water, and as soon as it hits me, cascades down my head and back, all my senses come flying into perspective.

"What just happened?" I splutter, watching him calmly lather a blue loofah with body wash. There are two in the shower.

"I mentioned before," he begins softly, "that when we were kids we had to share everything."

I wait. The words tumble out of his mouth in an unfamiliar sort of way, but I get the impression he's been thinking about this for a while. Did he know it was going to come to this? A flash of anger surges through me, laced with betrayal.

"Our dad split when we were little, and it was just our mother and us. She was a nurse and worked crazy hours, did all she could just to keep the roof over our heads."

The anger ebbs, only a little, and I keep quiet. I'm scared what will come out of my mouth if I do speak, so I let him sponge me down softly, studying the contemplative look on his features. Suddenly he seems more like a boy, as if talking about his childhood is bringing him back to that time.

"We shared everything," he repeated. "Clothes, food. At one point we even had to share a toothbrush." He gets to the spot between my legs and gently massages me with a few soapy fingers.

It burns a little, sore from the impact from just a few moments ago.

"When things were good, money was okay, Mom would let herself relax. She liked to party. Most of her boyfriends were cool." His face darkens for the briefest of moments. "A couple weren't."

He pushes my hair back from my face and my image of him gets temporarily blurred by water. His soft hands ebb away more of my anger, the feeling of betrayal. They are hands that never wanted to do harmful things.

"When we were fourteen, Mom had a few of her friends stay over one night because they got home late. Ollie and me were getting ready in the morning for school. We tried to be quiet, but we had to shower. It woke up one of Mom's girlfriends."

Something sick wriggles in my gut. I trade places with Arlo so he could get into the water, but I don't dare get out of the shower.

"She came into the bathroom—I'd forgotten to lock the door. I was standing in a towel brushing my teeth while Ollie was finishing up in the shower. She was a little younger than Mom, with this bright red hair I'll never forget. She said I looked so much older than the last time she saw me, and when Ollie heard her voice he poked his head out of the shower. She said she could use a clean-off, and locked the door. Then she stripped down."

My mouth is dry despite the steam swelling up around us. I watch Arlo lather up the loofah again and start to wash himself.

"We'd never seen a woman before, and she knew it. She took my towel off and pulled me back into the shower—"

He stops here, and for the first time our eyes meet. "It was our first time. Like everything else, we did it together. I think... I think it had to be like that, you know? That first time. Then the time after that, with another girl. Then every time since then."

Now I take a small step back, finding my voice. "Did you plan to do this with me?" I'm surprised to hear the hurt, even though I try to sound vindictive.

He drops the loofah, a fever in his eyes. "No, Wren, no. I wanted you, just me. I've never been with a girl like you, one I really, really like. Ollie always found the girls, the ones who only wanted to do it with the both of us. This would've been... my first time alone."

I pause, don't retreat any further. His eyes are big, a storm brewing behind them, as if he's ready to do all he can to make me stay. No one has ever looked at me like they were afraid of losing me.

So I scoop up his loofah and spin him around so I can get to his back. I don't want him to see the tears in my eyes. Not just because I think he actually cares for me, but also for this missed opportunity for him, for his virginity getting stolen by an older woman; Because his ties were sealed with Oliver's forever.

"Ollie's pissed," he says quietly, as if his brother might be listening. "I don't think he understands, truly being interested in someone who isn't each other."

"What does this mean?" I say, just as quietly.

"It means you can walk out of here right now and I wouldn't blame you." Arlo turns back around, the hint of a forced smile on his face. Before the words even leave his mouth I know he doesn't want that, he's saying them for my sake.

But his offer breaks the tension. He's willing to let me go. I give a half-shrug, glancing away.

He takes my chin in his hand and tilts my face upwards. "But if you do stay... you stay with us. At least for now. Ollie's never held interest in a single toy for very long."

"Am I a toy to you?" I whisper. That's what I don't think I could bear—being disposable to Arlo. He and Oliver share the same face, the same history, the same blood, but Oliver could never make me feel the way Arlo does. Could never give me the butterflies or warmth.

He bends to plant a soft kiss on my lips. "I'm terrified you're going to be the one to get bored of me," he admits.

There it is—the warmth. The kindness. I shake my head. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do, Arlo Levitt. That's not something I could get bored of."