Cory and Tilly knew the feelings they had for one another were more than those of normal brother sister relationships, but they weren’t the stereotypical brother and sister dynamic. They accepted their feelings and they got on with their lives, until an overload of emotions bring these two, broken, tragically flawed twins together.
Cory and Tilly – “You say you like storms, but what if you can only handle a little rain and I’m a downpour?” she asked him, to which he said; “Then I’ll drown.”
Cory Greenstreet and his sister, Tilly, had pretty much fended for themselves ever since their father had run away with a blonde twenty-something five years ago. Their mother had turned to the bottle as an anaesthetic and her kids had taken a backseat role in her life after that – their father was too busy in Nova Scotia with his trophy-wife to bother with two teenage kids, and Loraine was too busy with the drink that drove him away in the first place. When she wasn’t laid out in semi-conscious inebriation in front of the TV watching one of her reality shows, she was at work. She drank and she worked, and sometimes she drank at work and should she be fired for public intoxication it would come as no surprise to either of them.
“Any day now,” they would joke as they took the 8/10 bus to school. “What’ll be her excuse tonight?”
The answer was always the same. “It’s been a tough day.”
Cory didn’t really blame his Dad for leaving. He was a ruthless businessman whose only motivation was money. Apparently he was enjoying the perks of a seven-figure a year Directorship in Canada with a company Macan and a newly renovated lake house on Porters Lake. Naturally, they saw none of the money. Cory remembered receiving a birthday card the year after he had left with twenty bucks stuffed inside and a message saying Happy birthday, kids. But that was over four years ago now. He’d heard something about his twenty-four year old model wife being pregnant, but he didn’t tell Tilly. Tilly, he knew, took it the hardest. She missed the father figure in her life and it showed sometimes, and knowing he could do nothing about it killed Cory. Seeing his twin, his blood, his best friend, in pain was like a knife to the heart. They were born just minute apart, and had shared an unbreakable bond ever since they had been old enough to register each other’s presence. They would cry together, feed together and sleep at exactly the same time. Forcing them to adapt to life without a father had been a shock to the system for both of them, and they had gone from normal ten-year-olds to de facto adults in the blink of an eye. With Loraine in a constant state of drunkenness their childhood had pretty much ended the day Mike had up and left. Now, having just turned fifteen, they seldom remembered a life any different. They shopped for themselves, bought food and clothes and supplies for the house (out of the weekly money Loraine barely remembered to leave on the breakfast bar) and Cory juggled school with a paper-round and a weekend job at the local garage and two lots of training every week. He was either going to have to surrender football or running, and he loved both in equal measures. He and Tilly trained for the same running club, and neither wanted to give that up. It was the only real time they did what they wanted to do.
Cory and Tilly were less like siblings and more like best friends. They knew each other better than anyone else on the planet, their secrets and fears, stories and dreams, and had it not been for them then their house – a small detached two-story in an area of town they really struggled to afford – would be a shit tip. (It was a good job that Mike had paid the mortgage off long before he fucked off to Canada because without that security Tilly didn’t know what they would have done.) Between them they managed all right. More than all right, they managed perfectly fine on their own. To them it was life reversed. Loraine was the child and Cory and Tilly were the breadwinners of the household. Cory cooked and took care of the blue duties, as they had termed them, (Cooking, maintenance, gardening) and Tilly took on the pink roles (cleaning, ironing and washing). Loraine, well Loraine drank.
That morning, as Cory was cooking up breakfast in the kitchen (scrambled egg on toast), Tilly walked in in a fluster. She bumbled into the kitchen with her auburn hair pulled into a tight high ponytail, school blouse half buttoned and just her pink and black Jack Wills cotton panties on.
“Have you seen my foundation?” she asked at a hundred mile an hour.
“Not since yesterday. You haven’t left it in the bathroom again?”
“No, I just checked in there.” Her arms went up in exasperation. “Shit!”
“Why do you even need it?”
Tilly looked at him like he’d just come out with the most stupid sentence she’d ever heard.
“Why?” she said, mocking. “Why? Because … just because. Okay? It’s a girl thing and you really wouldn’t understand.”
Cory laughed and checked on the eggs. “Whatever. No, I haven’t seen it.”
She mumbled something under her breath and turned for the door.
She turned. “Yeah?”
“You don’t need that shit anyway,” he said. “You’re beautiful enough as you are.”
Cory caught the beginnings of a smile forming on Tilly’s ever reddening face before she turned away from him.
“Why do you always say that?” she laughed, masking her embarrassment.
He rolled his eyes and started to serve up the eggs. Although she was facing away from him he could tell she was blushing like crazy. “Because you are. Now hurry up,” he said, pouring two glasses of orange from the jug in the fridge. “Breakfast is up.”
Ten minutes later with Tilly now dressed and breakfast eaten and plates and cups in the sink, they headed off for the bus at the end of the street.
“Today is the day,” she said as they boarded. “I am so unprepared for this exam.”
Cory took his seat at the window and Tilly shuffled down next to him. “You’ll smash it.”
“Your faith in me is … misguided,” she laughed.
“Your faith in yourself is misguided,” he said as he fingered at his phone. “My faith in you is absolute.” She playfully hit him on the arm and he laughed to himself and went back to his phone. At the next stop Ellie, Tilly’s closest girlfriend, boarded with a flock of other students and Tilly met her with a smile and they headed to their usual spot at the back of the bus.
“Hey Cory,” Ellie said with a flirtatious smile.
“I’m leaving you,” Tilly said, giving him a peck on the cheek.
“I’m shocked,” he said in response. “Goodbye, Ellie,” he called after the girls, watching her ass as it flirted with him as she walked away.
“He’s so hot,” Ellie would say to Tilly as they sat down.
It was the same dance every morning.
Tyrell Jacoury, TJ to his friends and, in fact, to anybody that ever asked, was waiting by the gate when Cory stepped off the bus, girls in tow. He was going to make it as a rapper. No questions asked. Everybody knew it. No, he wouldn’t consider anything else. End of story. He slouched and gave Cory a “waddup, bruh.”
Cory nodded amiably and they followed the girls inside and TJ, brimming with pride, couldn’t wait to tell Cory that he had spent the night with Aimee while her parents were out. TJ and Cory always commanded the attention of the female contingent when they first passed through the gates (they could pretty much have any girl they wanted. TJ exercised that right like it was going out of fashion; Cory was more reserved.) They were the school’s two leading male athletes. TJ was captain of the football team and the basketball team, but he said that when he was offered scholarships (because, that too, wasn’t in question) he would turn them down in favour of music; while Cory was the cross-country, track, road and distance record holder having smashed nine four-decades old records with ease, and was currently the state’s leading goal scorer in the soccer league. They were natural athletes, but unlike TJ, Cory was odds-on for a scholarship. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, but he didn’t know what he would be doing should he get one either. He had Tilly to consider and that made the future uncertain.
“What’s she like?” Cory asked as TJ finished his story.
“Amazing, bruh.” He gestured to her ass, which everybody knew was mighty fine.
“Did she let you put it in?”
“Nah, but while we were fucking she let me stick a finger up there.”
Cory grinned. “Nice!”
“And she let me finish too.”
Cory slapped his mate on the back. “Where?”
TJ licked his lips and the two boys laughed.
A group of girls wolf-whistled as TJ and Cory passed, but the boys ignored the girls. They took one look at Ellie and Tilly, their tight bubble butts packed tightly into their pants, and they looked at each other and grinned. Their attention was in one place and one place only, and they were semi-hard just watching the two girls move. Ellie and Tilly were the two prettiest girls in the school by a considerable margin, and Cory had had a secret crush on his sister’s best friend for years now. TJ did too, but of the two, Ellie fancied Cory that little bit more. Ellie was the spitting image of Tilly, and if you didn’t know them then you would easily edge your bets on them being twins over Tilly and Cory. Ellie’s platinum blonde hair was in a loose bun and bobbed with every movement. She was definitely a distraction to the upcoming exam, Cory thought. When they reached the door Tilly turned to Cory.
“I’ll be late home tonight, I’m training after school.”
“I’ll wait to cook,” he said.
“Just eat if you want, I’ll be fine.”
Cory smiled. “I’ll wait.”
Tilly beamed at him and they went their separate ways. It was a very slow day.
Tilly had aced the exam.
There was a stir-fry almost ready when Tilly arrived home that night and the smell greeted her churning stomach like nectar to a bee. Training had been intense and her legs felt like jelly. Cory heard the door close and met her in the hallway with a long, tight hug. She was still in her club crop-top and she was sweaty as hell but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Here’s little miss “I’m so unprepared”,” he mocked and she playfully hit him in the ribs. She’d scored 91% to Cory’s 86%. He was sure she just set out to better him. He couldn’t recall a single exam in which he’d achieved a higher grade then she.
“I hate hills,” she said, and Cory laughed.
“Here,” he said. “Give me your stuff and go get changed. I’ll stick the shower on for you.”
She was tired, Cory could tell, but she still flashed him that grateful, loving smile again. It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It was infectious, almost. Her smile was like a drug to him. She groaned in appreciation. “I love you,” she told him as she dumped her bags on his arm. She mouthed thank you, loaded with fatigue as she passed him.
“I know,” he said, giving her a playful slap on the ass. The evenings were still mild and Tilly just wore her training pants rather than her leggings. They were just a little big longer than cheerleader panties, black and tight and her bubble butt looked incredible. She giggled at the touch and set about tackling, with extreme difficulty, the stairs, which had never looked so unappealing. How she longed for a downstairs bathroom. Her quads screamed at her with each step. Cory sympathised – he knew that feeling well. (John, their running coach, really knew how to push his army to the limits.) As Tilly ascended the stairs, Cory watched her and he felt himself growing a little in his pants and he pulled his eyes away. He knew he shouldn’t be looking, be having these thoughts, but…