Summer of Sisters

SUMMER OF SISTERS NICK STORMING FRACTURED PRESS Copyright © 2022 Fractured Press All right reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission of the publisher. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and locations are products of the author's imagination. First printing edition 2022. Fractured Press www.nickstorming.org CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Epilogue Authors Note ALSO BY NICK STORMING 1 The hardest thing about living with two gorgeous stepsisters is hiding all the erections. It would be easier if they had any shame in the house, but they both insisted on prancing around in panties and crop tops. Only pulling on shorts or a sleeved t-shirt when their mom yelled at them. Bonnie at least wasn’t trying to tease me. The younger of the two, she’d never been a flirtatious girl. Bookish and shy, she and her friends spent most of their time at school in the library, when not hanging out in the theater. She was a beautiful and slender brunette, but growing up compared to her blonde sister, she’d convinced herself she wasn’t attractive. Aniston, on the other hand, knew the effects she had on men. From an early age, she’d been able to command the attention of everyone in a room, simply by entering. The queen of our high-school and now of her sorority, she lived a perfect life. Our parents eloped after a month-long affair when I was in middle school. After the honeymoon, we moved into a giant house in a new state where my dad got a job, and I found myself sharing a bathroom for the first time. The girls ignored me those first few years, too busy with friends and high school drama to care about the kid running around ogling them. But my stepmom and I’d grown close. My dad was a free spirit who hadn’t even married my birth mother. I don’t know how Ella got him to propose, but the marriage didn’t last long. Six months after the girls moved in, my dad moved out and got himself a one bedroom “love palace.” Once a week we’d go out to lunch, but that was the extent of the parenting he offered throughout high school. My stepmom Ella became my parent during those formative years. Following up with my schoolwork and showing up at football and basketball games whenever I joined the teams. It could have been guilt, because my dad sent us enough money she could afford not to work. But I think we were kindred spirits who found exactly what we needed in the other person. Her daughters were both strong willed and rebelling against her during high school, and I’d never had structure or a mom. I spent more than my fair share of nights dreaming of my mom’s jaw dropping figure and high-cheekboned face. But afterwards I always felt guilty and sullied for the fantasies. My dreams of golden-haired Aniston, and shy Bonnie were free of those dark emotions and I came back to them again and again. High school was a tough time. With the drama at home, and having moved to a new state, it took me a while to find my place. I’m a good athlete, and excelled at sports, but never fit in with the jocks. The kids I met in my honors and AP classes had more in common with me and I made friends with the “nerds.” It didn’t help that my stepsister was the hottest girl in school. Instead of making me popular, it made guys awkward around me and girls want nothing to do with me. If I’d been cool in Aniston’s eyes, perhaps it would have been different. They might have wanted to get close to me, to be near her. But I was a “nerd” and Aniston never failed to mention it when we passed each other in the halls. “There’s my nerdy little brother!” She would whisper and point, and her friends would add an “Ewwww!” To drive home my humiliation. Things got easier when she graduated, and I got to know Bonnie better over her last year at school. We had the same math class and often studied together for tests. She has a sharp, inquisitive mind and a dark sense of humor that I loved, but something kept her from getting too close. I was constantly frustrated by Bonnie closing off and withdrawing from our budding friendship. Then it would take a couple of weeks before she’d begin opening up once again. Everything changed after I graduated. I’d been planning on going back east to school, eager to get away from this place, but then I was accepted into Stanford. The opportunity was too good to pass up, and with it only being an hour's drive away, I could come home on weekends to do laundry and food that wasn’t made in a microwave or on a hot plate. My stepmom was ecstatic, but the girls had strange reactions. Bonnie wouldn’t meet my eyes or speak to me after a brief congratulation. At first, I thought it was jealousy, because she’d always loved the ivy leagues. But Bonnie loved theater and her school, Cal Arts, was perfect for her. Aniston’s reaction was even stranger. My oldest sister paused when she learned the news from my stepmom and turned a puzzled frown on me. “They took you pre-med?” “I guess so,” I said with a shrug.