You're getting this tonight because I have lots of work to do on the weekend and don't think I'll get a chance to upload... but I will respond to your comments. :) 

Thanks as per usual to jueka1 , brightyeolie , and amiva0402 for your lively comments last chapter.

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"Nice hickey," I snorted when Callie walked in the door.

"Shut up," she grumbled, fiddling with her hair to conceal the evident mark of a makeout session.

"Does this mean you finally crossed out Ashton?" Obviously she kissed someone... and I knew she went on a date with Ashton... but with Callie, you never know.

"Mhmm," she grumbled as she walked past me and towards her room.

Pausing my movie, I knew I wasn't done with this conversation. So I followed her down the hallway, immediately bounding across her room and taking a seat next to her open bag on her bed as she began to pack some clothes—we were staying at Sara's for the night.

I had been actively avoiding crossing off another on my list for many reasons—firstly because I really wanted to avoid kissing more boys than necessary if she didn't, preferring to just keep in line with her. But also, the last thing I wanted to do was kiss Ashton and ruin her chances there by confusing him. Evidently the boy was having feelings for my sister and a part of me wondered... well... if perhaps they'd date for a while.

But judging by the scowl on her face and the almost 'throwing' of her things into her bag, I pressed, "Was it that bad?"

At once, she came to a stop and sighed. "No." Her grey eyes met mine in despair before she dropped to the bed beside me. "It's was great. And I hate that I liked it."

"Why would you—"

"Because the guy is ethically a wank-stain."

"A wank-stain hey?" My brows knotted together as I tried and failed to unpack what that could mean. "I'm lost," I concluded.

And so Callie began spilling her guts to me about the whole leadup to the kiss from the past seven weeks, from the innocent, heartwarming beginnings, to the annoying moments of never getting a moment alone, to the almost kiss in the kitchen a week ago until the guy revealed he's a huge racist.

"I don't know how I never noticed," she muttered. "I was so desperate to find an ounce of kindness from him considering he hangs out with Flynn for crying out loud... But I scrolled back on his insta to Australia day and he shared this." She turned her phone, showing me the post in question.

A large flag adorned in the familiar union jack and southern cross displayed in front of me, with the words 'never was, never will be' etched over it. "Never?" I spat. "This has always been Aboriginal land. Heck, Yothu Yindi's song Treaty came out forty years ago and they still play it, calling for our stupid government to make peace with the traditional owners. Every damn year, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders campaign again for the Uluru Statement of the Heart to be acknowledged, and again, our stupid—"

"I know," Callie cut me off. "Trust me, I know. But while Ashton may be less of a toxic jerk like Fraser, he's still an absolute wank-stain."

"Complete and utter wank-stain," I agreed. "If only he had been. Then he wouldn't exist in this damn world..."

"Preach, sister." We both fell onto the bed in unison, staring up at Callie's ceiling.

She was the first to let out an exasperated sigh. "At least he's ticked off."

"Did you... Does he know it was a one off?"

I didn't have to look at her to know the rustling of sheets was her shaking her head.

"Well... let's just hope..."

"What do I do if he thinks we're going out now, or something?"

"I still have to tick him off..." I added.

But after feeling her stare, I glanced at her, noticing her frowning. "I'm not actively trying to beat you, Callie. Otherwise I would have kissed someone else. You know this list is for you and not me."

She opened her mouth to say something, but I cut her off.

"I just meant before... I do still have to tick him off and I haven't filled my one a month quota yet. I could somehow get between you two... so he drops it. I don't mind being the jerk and breaking his heart."

She pressed her lips together before looking away from me. "The guy is an absolute arsehole... Why can't I just... tell him I don't like him like that?"

"Because, despite that he's a racist twat... you don't like hurting people, Cal. It's one of your many redeeming qualities."

She breathed a laugh and then let out a groan.

"Okay... interesting noises."

"We should get ready and go to Sara's," she said as she sat up. "I need a distraction."

It was hard to not notice Noah's eyes flickering our way the whole time we sat at their dinner table that evening. But for once he wasn't looking at me—a thing that was making me a little nervous, to be honest, about what I was thinking I could see in his eyes. This time, he was looking at my sister, eyes narrowing at her neck, evidently trying to determine if he saw what he thought he saw.

But it wasn't until we had forwarded back to Sara's room that he said anything. Almost on our tail, he followed us right in, Sara spinning around immediately as she noticed him, demanding, "What do you want?"

Though Noah ignored, her walking straight up to my sister.

Eyes going wide, Callie took an anxious step back as he moved in, his gaze zeroing in on her neck as he leaned closer. "Aha, it is a hickey!" he exclaimed, leaning back with a cocky grin.

Her face had turned beetroot red as she clutched at her hair, desperately trying and failing to hide the purple bruise.

"Do you have a boyfriend these days, Cal?" he asked, taking a seat next to her on Sara's bed.

"Is he seriously not going to leave?" Sara muttered next to me, staring at the pair in disbelief.

"N-no," Callie stuttered, looking to her lap. "I just... made out with someone."

"Good," Noah then said, causing my sister's head to whip up, eyes locking on him.

But he smiled warmly. "No guy who goes straight for giving you hickeys is worth your time, Cal. You deserve to be treated like a princess."

"Oh that's just sickening," Sara said loudly, unable to hold back anymore as she stormed across the room. Reaching down, she grabbed Noah by the wrist, yanking him away from Callie. "If Callie wants to get hot and raunchy with someone, it's none of your business. But I also won't have you sit there and shove patriarchal ideals about how she should keep her innocence while men can do whatever they want with women. She can have a healthy relationship with someone and be getting up to all sorts of kinky things, thank you very much. Now get out."

"I just meant that—"

But she wasn't having it. Hand forcefully pushing Noah towards the door, she hissed, "Get. Out."

And finally she won. Noah was angrily back in the top landing, and Sara slammed the door in his face, locking it for good measure. "I don't get him." She shook her head, coming back over to Callie on the bed, while I took a spot on the mattress on the floor. "Where does he get off thinking he can preach that archaic stuff that our parents shout?"

I studied Sara as she continued to rant, Callie giving back bashful replies every now and then, but I grew to wonder whether Sara was really that good at acting... or if she was really that clueless as to what was going on between her best friend and her brother. Nonetheless, I shrugged the thought. Because it was not my problem to get into.

Almost an hour later, Sara decided it was time we all had showers and got into our pjs for our movie sesh—one of our last chances to fully relax before school goes back on Monday. But as Callie took off for her trip to the shower, gently closing the door behind her, Sara crossed the room taking a seat next to me.

Her hair was still damp, the waft of her new lavender shampoo filling my nose. And her warm, bare knee unashamedly pressed against mine.

She didn't take long—waiting until the sound of the shower running made its way through the upper floor—to open her mouth with whatever pressing question was swirling in her obsidian stare. "You're not seriously going to kiss Ashton, are you?" she asked me.

Over the past month, I had slowly grown used to her touch potentially being a friendly one. And while every now and then it still stirred my aching heart—because I was definitely in full swing crushing on the girl—I did my best to not read into any of her actions. But her question did confuse me. "Yes?" I asked. "He is on the list. And it would be the easiest way to get him away from Callie."

Her lips pressed together in discontent.

"What?"

"It's just because of Callie?"

Deadpanning at her, I replied, "I can assure you I'm definitely still very gay, if that's what you're asking." Though I wondered if she could hear my voice squeaking a bit as the words came out of my mouth and my eyes darted around her perfect face.

"Okay," she then said, shoulders relaxing. "As long as it's just for Callie."

But a part of me wanted to press her on it. "Why do you care?" It was scary going there. A part of me wanted to continue dreaming, to live in my fantasy that one day Sara would turn gay for me... Because I heard her comments about the men in our romcoms, and they suggested she definitely wasn't gay. Even if she never liked any guys at school.

"I-I... I don't," she stuttered, mysteriously avoiding eye contact now.

Which only made me more curious about her reaction. Hand coming down on her knee, I gently squeezed it in an attempt to get her attention.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head, eyes focussed down on my hand on her, before it trailed up my arm and back to my eyes. "I just... don't want you doing things you don't want to do," she whispered, eyes dancing around my face.

"I want to help my sister."

"But you don't want to kiss them..."

"No, I don't."

"Then you shouldn't."

My brows pulled together as I tried to decipher what she meant by all of this. But then, her gaze began to trail down again, fixating on my mouth.

My heart stuttered.

The butterflies swirled in my stomach.

And just as I was convinced she was moving slightly closer, the shower stopped.

We both turned to look at the door, waiting, expectant. And sure enough, a moment later the door creaked open and Callie let out a gentle, "Sara? Lex?"

My hand—still on Sara's knee—gave her a little squeeze as I got up. "I'll help her," I said.

And then I left her alone, sitting on the floor, hoping that being near my sister would help me forget what I thought was just about to happen.

Would help me remember I couldn't go there with my sister's best friend.

Would remind me that Sara wasn't into me... she was straight.

Callie was hovering by the bathroom door, gripping onto the frame with one hand, other clutching her leg and cleaned sleeve.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I helped her hobble down the hall back to Sara's room so that she could fall to the ground, stowing away her leg for the night before she slipped on her compression band. Slowly I had learned my sister's routines—she took her leg off for the evening after she watched all the buildup of sweat that accrued under the slip. She generally opted for crutches or the chair at home, but avoided bringing them to Sara's, especially because of the stair situation. And she slept with a different type of slip over her stump—one that compressed her leg, keeping the swelling down and circulation flowing so that it would fit into her socket the next morning. If she skipped that step, she was often bound to crutches or the chair the next day.

I lowered Callie onto the mattress on the floor—she was adamant about not sharing a bed with Sara, half because she didn't like the idea of accidentally bumping her with her stump all these years on (a fact that Sara whispered to me once when I was confused the first time we stayed the night at hers) and also because she said she hated that Sara was a spooner.

Which meant whenever we stayed, I shared Sara's double bed with her—because the mattress on the floor was only a single, and Callie hated sleeping with me.

So every time we did spend the night and I'd wake to Sara's arms around me, my heart was even more sure of how I felt, but then throbbed even more knowing it was wrong. That I wasn't allowed. That it would do more harm than good.

While Sara didn't seem to know how I felt about her—I assumed—the fact that she knew I was gay never stopped her though.

As we turned off the lights and switched on the TV, this time putting on an old show—The Witcher—I couldn't help but notice Sara's foot, casually brushing against mine on the bed. Callie couldn't see anything above our torsos from her spot on the floor, but as I glanced at Sara, she had her gaze fixated on the screen.

Nonetheless, as she felt my eyes on her, ever so slowly, she reached out to me, grabbing my hand in hers, stirring another throb.

I thought I was growing used to her doing this. But after our interaction earlier...

I turned my head back to the screen, trying to focus on the Yennefer character and how absolutely gorgeous she was in that low-cut dress while Callie and Sara continued to muse over me how 'yummy' Geralt looked.

And all the while, Sara began rubbing circles into the back of my hand with her thumb, confusing me even more.

I'm so tired guys. I haven't written any extra chapters on this hence no double upload. But hopefully teaching eases out soon and I can write more for you.

Meme:

Plz reassure me guys D':