“You’re an ass,” she informed me.
“Yes, I know.”
“Come hold my things while I change. Be the unlucky sap of a boyfriend you’re playing at.”
“You don’t have any things to- oh.”
I nodded in belated understanding as Kylie shoved an armful of clothes at my chest. Things she had no interest in, of course, but she’d make me hold them anyway, just to get back at me a little.
I had some time to muse while Kylie busied herself in her changing room. The ‘boyfriend’ comment had struck a slightly odd note, even though I knew what she meant. What I was doing was essentially the job of the archetypal hapless boyfriend; ‘helping’ to shop, waiting around, getting bored, checking out other girls, getting reprimanded…
Yeah. I could see it.
I hoped there was nothing more behind what Kylie had said. I didn’t think there could be. She was still just my sister, and I was just her brother. A little inappropriate dressing and touching didn’t change that. We were weirdos, that was all. We had a different sort of relationship. But it was still far too sibling-y to be anything else.
“I like these ones,” Kylie said as she stepped out. She did a slow half-spin, so she ended with her back to me. The jeans she had on hugged her ass like a second skin. “What do you think?”
For a moment, I considered answering snarkily for the sake of a more ‘little brother’ kind of response. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The pants looked amazing on her, and I was pretty sure she knew it. I didn’t want to be petty about my reaction just because I wasn’t quite sure where we stood.
“They make you butt look awesome,” I said.
Kylie’s smile made my doubts disappear instantly. “You think so?”
“I know so.” I stepped forward and gave her a smack on the ass. “Get changed again, buy ’em, and let’s get out of here.”
Kylie flushed and bit her lip. I thought she might chastise me-and honestly I deserved it-but she didn’t. “I think I want a looser pair too, though. Something comfier. ‘Cause these might look good, but I don’t think I’d want to wear them all day.”
“Sure. So, what, same pair a size up?”
“Maybe.”
She insisted on trying on a few more pairs, none of which hugged her ass nearly so well as the ones she’d first modeled, but she kept showing off how they looked anyway. Like she was trying to make me stare at her bum.
What the hell were we even doing?
I thought we’d almost escaped when Kylie decided on a second, comfy pair. Then I had the same thought again after she’d opted to get a backup of the ‘nice ass’ pair, because she feared she might not find something like them next time.
We were on our way to the register to pay when she took an abrupt detour toward the underwear section. I resigned myself to some silly ploy being attempted, and/or yet further attempts at keeping my attention firmly on her, and not on boob-jiggle girl.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking at underwear. Duh.”
“Yes, but why? Is it just to torment me?”
“Would that work?”
“I don’t know, really. It depends on what you’re planning, I guess.”
Kylie shook her head, but a small smile had crept onto her lips. “I just decided maybe I should pick some things up. I haven’t gotten any new stuff in a while. Usually I don’t care too much, ’cause no one else sees them anyway.”