I laid in bed pondering Quinn’s words, feeling like I messed up by not saying anything back. She’d spilled her heart to me and yet I was still worried what she might think of the truth. I considered going to her room just so I could hug her and tell her I didn’t hate her because I really didn’t and after hearing her wavering voice all I wanted to do was comfort her, but I’m selfish I suppose and my biggest reservation was that I wouldn’t be able to control myself and soon all my dirty little secrets would come to light. There was a very fine line that I felt I had to tow now.

Or did I really? The more I thought about what she’d said, the more I felt like there was an unbreakable bond between us, and that by prioritising some ridiculous code I was doing us more harm than good. I wanted us to be close and she clearly did too, but at what cost if she knew what I truly thought of her and the fact that I was dwindling down to a height much more befitting my newfound world view. My fantasies of her were one thing and she would only continue to loom larger and larger and I just knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it in. Soon I’d be eye level with her navel and six pack, and it wouldn’t be long before I’d be staring at her huge butt rocking up and down, and then I’d be dashing between her pillar-like calves, and then I’d be like a doll she could grab in her hands. She could probably suffocate me in those big mitts of hers. I loved Quinn and the thought of that made me shudder and it made my timely friend downstairs wake up too.

Maybe she was right. Never take your two cents from someone else.

And you know what? I don’t care if my dad and Helen cared more about each other than they did about me. Because I sure as hell care more about Quinn than I do about them. They’d be gone soon and we’d have the place to ourselves for an indefinite amount of time. It would be just us in this big, lonely house, so did I really care if things got a little weird? If we got a little Tasmanian with it? It’s not like I’m going to tell anybody, so maybe I should just go with the flow, see where the wind takes us. We were on the same page after all. I really did want nothing more than to spend time with her and she did too. I fell asleep thinking about the first time I saw snow with Quinn in New Zealand. Throwing a snowball at her back and then she turned her red cheeked face around, hugged by a furry parka hood. She chased after me and tackled me into the snow and we devolved into giggling, snowflakes stuck to our eyelashes. The memory made me feel so warm, bundled in my cosy sheets.

*

The next day I awoke to a strange noise. Like an enormous gale of howling wind coming through my window, that wind that whistles and sounds all ominous. But it was strange because the trees outside weren’t moving in the wind. It was a nice sunny lightly clouded day and I laid there listening to the wind as it seemingly pulsed louder then quieter, rising fast and falling slow and repeated ad nauseum. My drowse addled brain soon realised I was listening to someone on an ergo. Who else but Quinn training on the deck, and it sounded so close because the deck was directly to the right of my window.

Today was the day I’d decided. I was going to get up and talk to Quinn about what she’d said last night and who knows what else. It felt like our relationship was on the brink of broader horizons and once I said my piece, the floodgates would open. Though when I got out of bed, I realised that SIVID had taken its first proper swing at me. My yellow tee was way too baggy on my shoulders and I had to pull the drawstring tight on my shorts so they didn’t fall down. I took it in stride and left my room and went down the hall to the sliding glass door that lead to the deck.

Quinn was on the rowing machine in her old school zootie, the blue cotton with its thick mustard yellow line stitched down the side and over her hip. The zootie is a beautiful article of clothing because it leaves such little to the imagination. It hugs the body tightly so there’s no excess fabric to be caught while rowing and thinly loops the shoulders and ends not even halfway down the thigh, and whether you’re a man or a woman the crotch will always be incredibly pronounced. She was facing away from me, overlooking the view of our yard and street, her blonde hair tied into a messy bun and her butt spilled over the ergo seat and her shoulder blades came together as she leant back into her stroke. I slid the door open quietly and watched her for a while from there, I knew she wouldn’t want to be disturbed while she was in the middle of a piece.

It wasn’t often I had the chance to watch Quinn train, but when I did I was left amazed at her work ethic. Whether it was when we were younger and I would help her train hill sprints and yell encouragement from the top of the hill as she charged toward me, bounding up the steep grassy slope, a look of determination on her face. I would get tired before she did, my voice faltering as she’d jog back down for another set. Or like now, when I watched her row, her muscles exploding in size with each stroke, a huge grunt of strength when she yanks the handle to the finish. She’d have a crazed look on her face, her tongue slightly poked between her lips, like she was focusing too hard on pushing herself to the limit, her legs slowly pulling her into the catch, tensing her body up like a giant coil until her legs snapped again and ripped the metal cord to her sternum. Her fair golden skin flushed red from the exertion, sweat turning her zootie to a dark, wet navy that lined her back and started to creep from the nethers beneath her rump glued to the seat, beads of it rolling down her neck from her soaked hair. The ergo buzzed angrily with each powerful stroke she took, and I swear the deck shuddered a bit. She picked up the tempo and her quads bulged even wider as she slammed them down and yanked the handle through and the ergo whirred enormously, with far less time between each angry breath. When she came to the finish I saw the breadth of her back, the definition in her traps, her lats spread wide, and I’m not sure if it’s because I was physically smaller now but the very sight of it filled me with what I can only describe as primal awe. With one last grunt, that sounded desperate in a way, she let go of the handle and the chain zipped back into place. She kicked her feet from the foot straps and straddled the ergo, doubled over her knees taking deep draws of breath, sweat pooled around her on the deck floor, still dripping from her face. She was the strongest person I’d ever known.

Quinn sat there for a while and it honestly felt wrong of me to interrupt her after I’d witnessed such a Herculean effort, I’d let her catch her breath. She reached beside her and grabbed her water bottle and gulped down what looked like gallons at a time. She was quite literally moaning with each gulp as she quenched her unending thirst.

“Haaaaaaa, fuck,” she said, and her head drooped one more time before she finally stood up and yanked the hair tie holding back her voluminous blonde mane that exploded over her shoulders, sweaty and free. Her whole zootie was a dark navy, totally drenched in her sweat, and her powerful arms and legs had rivulets of it in the valleys and peaks of her muscle, her white socks a shade darker. The dark blue cotton rode deep up her butt, each cheek so round and thoroughly pumped, pulling her zootie right up so it just covered the curve of them, the fabric bundled by the thickness of her thighs. She reached down to touch her toes, her hamstrings emerged in full definition up her legs and the zootie rode further up her butt as she bent over, a much darker patch of sweat lined the crack and when she straightened up her ass gobbled the taut fabric. She picked the wedgie out and let the zootie snap back against her butt, her meaty thighs rippled in response.

She took my breath away when she turned around as I was greeted with the zootie firmly adhered to her front too, every crease and crevice outlined by the skin-tight material. She was startled to see me too. But she broke into a smile and so did I. She removed her Airpods.

“Were you watching me?” She said, tilting her head.

“For a little bit, yeah.”

She pursed her lips together in this really genuine smile. We were standing a table length apart but I could tell she was so much taller than what I remembered.

“Thank you for what you said last night, by the way,” I said. “You almost made me fucking cry.”

She sniffed and burst into a mixture of tears and laughter and bound toward me and I didn’t have time to process it before my feet left the ground and she had me bundled up in her huge arms, squashed flat against the sopping wet zootie material stretched over her bust, the softness of it enveloped my torso and she held me there with my head on her wet shoulder and she cried into me. I could feel the heavy thump of her heart still racing from her ergo performance.

“You don’t hate me,” she said between sobs.

“The thought never crossed my mind,” I managed, squeezed by her loving arms.

“I don’t even care, I just wanna talk to youuuuu,” she said with another sob.

I couldn’t tell if I had any tears cause my face was wet with her sweat, the warm heady stench of her was a magnificent thing when imprinted so deeply onto me. I bet I looked wild with my curly bed hair.

“I love you Quinn but you’re really sweaty.”

She growled in this cute way and gave me one last squeeze and dropped me to my feet, far down until I was staring above where the top of her abs showed through the zootie. I stepped back with a stifled gasp, having to look over the protruding swell of her chest to make eye contact with her, the fabric beneath her boobs was a dark shade compared to the fabric on top. The width of her hips outsized me twofold it felt like. A wry smirk started to creep on her face as she wiped away her tears.

She grabbed my shoulders, her hands covering them entirely. “I don’t care how small you get I’ll love you forever.”

I looked deeply into her sky-blue eyes, piercing down at me from the heavens. She had no idea what those words did to me but I felt there were still things that needed to be cleared up.

“Why don’t we talk over breakfast?”

“Yes, brilliant idea.” She pat my shoulder and with an excited pep to her step slid open the glass door and beckoned me to follow. She skipped down the carpeted hall, her ponytail swaying side to side, singing to herself. She spun right at the top of the stairs to face me and pointed at me. “I’m gonna make you my famous scrambled eggs.”

I couldn’t help but be infected by her energy and we raced downstairs to the kitchen where she commenced in cooking the aforementioned eggs, scrambling around to find the right pan and gathering an assortment of spices and a carton of eggs, I was in charge of the music and I decided to play her the latest Geese album 3D Country. I sat at a stool behind the marble island, watching her swan her hips to the music, manically whisking the eggs in a bowl by the stove, she was grinning like such an idiot and even though it was a mundane morning, with our parents gone at work like so many mornings before, it felt like days gone by and I was having the time of my life and grinned like an idiot too. The window framing Quinn’s dancing form showed the sunlit lawn and the white lily pillie’s growing on the hedge and it was such a beautiful day out and the light hit her face and made her blue eyes gleam like gems and she was so happy and I was just thinking about how I never wanted to lose this and if I told her the truth would we ever be able to return to where we once were and then the chorus of the song I See Myself hit and I guess I’d been repressing my emotions because I felt a tear well up and roll down my cheek. Because it was true, I saw myself in her, and I never wanted to lose that.

Quinn saw me sitting there trying to hold back tears and put the bowl down and rushed over to me and consumed me in a warm, sweaty hug. Running her large hands through my hair, roughed by callouses but it was nice as they scratched my scalp.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” she said.

I took a shaky breath. “I missed you so much Quinn.”

“Nawwwww.” She hugged me even harder. “You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“I know,” I sniffed. “I know.”

We stayed there in each other’s embrace for some time, letting the song play out as her hair pressed against my face, her hand caressed around my neck.

“Argh. You’re so cute,” she released me from her hold, sniffling herself. “But come on, enough moping. Put some toast on and get the avo ready. I’m a hungry gal.”

I chuckled. “Yes ma’am.”

The rest of the morning was lovely and we danced together and banged our heads at the riffs and Quinn scrambled her eggs and I mixed scooped avocado in a bowl and mashed it with my fork with a dash of salt, pepper and lemon. We sat at the table with our food, hers a much larger mound of golden eggs with pepper sprinkled through, the eggs were incredibly soft and creamy and had a slight spice to them, they melted in my mouth. Our first order of business was bitching about our parents, I told her how I’d noticed how absorbed they were in each other in the past but maybe I didn’t realise the extent to which they were. Then she told me two stories, both happened a little over a year ago. The first was after Quinn came second at Head of the River, and even though it wasn’t the win they had trained so hard for, they’d come painstakingly close against the elite imported rowers from their rival school and only lost by a canvas, she and all her crewmates were ecstatic as they came back to shore, slapping the water as the school crowd cheered for them, hailing them as underdog heroes. Once out of the boat, Quinn splashed toward her friends and they all had a massive group hug. I couldn’t help smiling as she recounted it to me. Afterward though, when they were driving home from the dam, Quinn was in the back excitedly going on about the race with her best friend, who was also the cox of the boat, and all of a sudden Helen cut in and said, “Well it’s no gold, is it girls?” Before brushing it off with a laugh.

“She’s so spiteful,” I said while shaking my head.

“It doesn’t even bother me though.”

“Why not?”

Quinn raised her hand to her mouth like she was whispering a secret. “Because the best she ever placed was fourth.”

The second story was a disturbingly hilarious one. Quinn and Helen’s iCloud had been linked for years and had always been a pain point between the two of them, whether it was flooding the other with unwanted photos and apps or accidentally deleting something that the other needed. There were many a times where Helen would berate Quinn for still being linked to it and she’d promise to change but she never did. Karma’s never been known for her aptness. So there was one evening where Quinn was laying in her bed, scrolling on her phone and she received a text message from dad. ‘They look incredible.’ It said. Quinn opened it and the chat loaded and she was met with her mother’s bare breasts.

“EW!” I shouted.

Quinn had this mortified look on her face. “I fucking KNOW.”

We quickly changed topic after laughing way too hard about it. And eventually we came to the conclusion that we didn’t care that they were leaving and that we would have the best time without them and Quinn promised we’d make my birthday special and it felt good to feel like no matter what was said we would be in agreeance. Obviously I still had a lot to admit to but I liked the pace at which the day was going and I didn’t want to rush things. There would be a right time. There always is.

Quinn decided that we should have a movie marathon and insisted she pick the first one because I picked last time. I thought we were going to watch on the TV downstairs but she suggested that we watch in her room and well, I couldn’t remember the last time we’d watched a movie together in bed but how could I say no.

“You need to shower first,” I said.

“Oh what, am I too stinky for you?”

“Yeah you smell like fuckin’ shit.”

“Oh reeeally?” She stood up from the table, snaking her back like a stretching cat, her palms lingering on the table as she started to make her way around it.

“No Quinn. Wait, no. Don’t you dare.” I stood up with a clumsy haste and put her opposite me.

She gripped the corners of the table in her long wingspan, grinning devilishly at me, she feigned both ways, tempting me to break into a sprint.

“I’ll never speak to you again,” I threatened.

“That’s not funny,” she said.

“I’m not trying to be funny; I’m trying to survive.”

“Hmmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.”

Honestly I was. There was no possible way I could escape her even if I wanted to. She’d be upon me in seconds.

Quinn lead us upstairs to her room and shamefully, I decided to watch her butt the whole way up, how her zootie contorted and stretched with the heft of each cheek bobbing up and down to her steps, a line of sweat through the crack. This was her oldest training zootie and the hem around her thighs looked frayed and spread thin, beaten by sea salt and constantly under pressure from the growing girl within, when she first got this zootie it hung loosely around the chest and thighs and now it was tight enough that her thighs bulged noticeably when they met fabric. I tried not to breathe through my nose but when I did, I was smacked with the pungent smell of swampy ass which I tried to breathe out quickly through my nose and held my breath the rest of the way up.

The door to her bedroom had a ‘Q’ screwed on the front. It’d been a while since I’d been in her room, though we used to organise little playdates a lot when we were younger, it had that familiar stale smell of her. The curtains were drawn open and illumed the walls of her room in a midday light, they were covered with rowing paraphernalia, the elusive golden zootie was framed proudly above her bed, our school’s crest embroidered over the chest, given exclusively to those who rowed in the 1st VIII boat, and there were plenty of other framed photographs of Quinn and her crew training in what looked like beautiful stretches of nature, the sleek whiteness of their boat cutting through the water and reflected off the glassy surface. Or there was a photo of the nine of them lined up, standing on the third-place podium position showing off their bronze medal from nationals (arguably more impressive than the second place at Head of the River Quinn added, they beat their rivals in a rematch and had a faster race time by 3 seconds, 6:38.59 for those interested). It was actually really cool to look at all these photos and really made me view her as more of a professional athlete than some schoolkid prodigy and compared to the rest of her crew, who were beasts in their own right, Quinn was clearly the biggest and from what I gathered was very much the leader and voice of reason for the boat. As sappy as it is, it made me proud of her.

The rest of the room fit the Quinn I knew, her walk-in closet concealed a shadowed wasteland of clothes, a pair of sports shoes laid by the half-closed door, the desk in the corner was neat and the bookshelves above were filled with literature I’d recommended to her over the years, she’d formed her own tastes eventually of course. Her bedsheets were a sage green and the duvet had a lacey exterior that was quite soft to sit on, there were a bunch of stuffed plushies by the pillows.

Quinn disappeared into her closet and the light flicked on.

“Have you seen Lady Bird?” She said.

“That’s the one with Saoirse Ronan?”

“And Timmy!”

“I haven’t seen it, no.”

Her head appeared from the door, beaming. “That’s what we’re watching then.”

She scrounged around in there for a while before she came out with some clothes to change into. Sitting on the bed she really towered over me and I was eye level with her waist, my toes dangled and barely touched the floor while sitting on her high bed. “Alright, I’ll only be a sec,” she said, hooking her fingers into the back of her socks and peeling them off one at a time. “Au revoir!” She tossed her long, sweaty socks at me and shut the door as she left for the shower.

I yelped a little as one hit my face and fell in my lap. They were still warm and damp from her post-workout feet and I hesitantly picked it up, gradually unspooling and it was embarrassing to realise one of her socks was almost as long as my arm. Of course it stunk, the thick white cotton marinated in the salty vinegar worked up from her feet. I don’t know why but I leaned forward to sniff it and the earthy aroma stunk so intensely of Quinn I threw the sock away, and flicked it’s twin off the bed.

I laid back and went on my phone while she had her shower. Trying not to think about the fact she’d thrown her socks at me, I scratched my nose at one point and I could still smell her feet on my finger. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant smell but there was something about how deeply ingrained the smell of Quinn was in me, the smell of the mango body wash she used, or the very particular brand of detergent we used to wash our clothes, or just the general scent of her, the pheromones that poured from her soft skin, reminding me of my childhood and shared bedrooms. I grabbed one of her damp socks again and found the grey part where her toes and big ball of her foot were highlighted and pressed it to my nose, almost a squelch as I bunched the cotton under my nostrils. It stunk of her, the dirty, grimy part of her that only existed on the bottom of her feet, in the confines of her shoes on a hot day. Sickly sour but intoxicating all the same.

It made me shudder but I put the sock down because it felt a step too far.

Eventually, I heard Quinn’s footsteps thumping back down the hall and in she came. She was dressed in a small white crop top, her defined stomach exposed, and short rugby shorts ridden up her thighs. She must’ve washed her hair because it was wrapped in a towel.

“Yo!” She said, pacing across the room to retrieve her laptop from her desk.

“Heya,” I said, pretending that I was more interested in my phone and that I hadn’t been doing anything suspicious.

The room was then plunged into a dim light as Quinn closed the curtains, only the faint presence of light seeping around the edges. She turned the lamp on her desk on and came over to the bed and swiped all the plushies onto the floor and flopped her weight onto the bed, the springs groaning in response and even I got a little airtime when she landed. She fluffed up the big pillows behind her and pat the spot beside.

“C’mere,” she said and I shuffled up next to her, leaning back into the huge, cloudlike pillows. She smelled of creamy mango and our shoulders were only a touch apart. Maybe that’s a little generous. My shoulder was more in line with her elbow, her big tits ballooned directly by my head and I saw she’d decided to go without a bra, as she should in the comfort of her house. I felt like I was sinking into the enormous fluffy pillow behind me, I could see that it didn’t offer much head support to Quinn, more like it was making way for the great mass of her. Our legs ran alongside each other, though her thighs eclipsed mine and stretched far longer and her feet were upturned close to the end of the bed, her toes flexed absentmindedly as she searched for the movie on her laptop. My feet were basically half the size of hers and I moved my leg a little closer just trying to compare them better. Her big toe scrunched over the other toes and cracked them and she did the same thing with her other foot, wiggling them open, toes spread, then she’d close them again, bunching her toes tight.

“Are you staring at my feet?” Came Quinn’s voice from above my shoulder.

I looked up at her and she was grinning from ear to ear. “No, no. I was, well I was just, comparing… our feet.”

“Oh? Comparing what about them?”

I opened my mouth to respond but I shut it.

She giggled and I watched her foot wag a little. “I do have pretty big feet. And gosh, aren’t yours so itty bitty.”

I wasn’t about to tempt her further so I kept my mouth shut but that only made her laugh harder. She playfully swiped her leg to the side and grazed the length of her bare skinned thighs along my leg, her calf bumped into my foot and my skin erupted in goosebumps. She stopped and the part of my leg that was smothered by her thigh felt all spiky. She slowly rubbed her huge thigh against my leg, buttery smooth skin fresh from her shower that gently glided over my hairs stood on end.  

“Did I give you goosebumps?”

I yanked my leg away. “Just put on the fucking movie.”

Thankfully, Quinn wasn’t in such a pushy mood and she laughed it off and brought her legs together. She placed the laptop on her thighs and tilted it slightly toward me and hit play. During the movie I slowly started to lean closer and closer to Quinn, just by nature of getting comfortable for the runtime, I felt her shift a little when my shoulder and head rested along her arm. I didn’t want to make a big deal of it so I kept watching the movie but she definitely looked at me for a minute, and then adjusted her arm so my head was resting on a softer part of her bicep. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice but be drawn into her gravity somewhat, atop the bed I barely dented the duvet but Quinn’s weight caused me to naturally roll toward her.  

Lady Bird was great, Gerwig’s got a knack for the heartfelt and Saoirse kills. Quinn teared up at some points and I could only assume it had something to do with the depicted mother-daughter relationship. I rubbed my hand on her arm to comfort her, we were in an emotional swing state. But ultimately it was a sweet movie and I was glad she’d shown me. Next, I decided to show her No Country for Old Men. Quinn moved the laptop into the space between us and turned on her side, her head propped on her arm and the other draped over the curve of her hip. The warmth of her skin lingered on my cheek and side when she pulled away. We were locked in for the movie, some pieces of cinema require the concentration. Quinn kept glancing at me with her mouth agape, the coin toss scene, Llewelyn’s close call with Anton Chigurh at the motel, and another at the hotel, the shootout in the street, all of it. How good is it to show someone you love one of your favourite movies. She watched Tommy Lee Jones give the final monologue with bated breath; a pin drop could be heard. When the credits rolled she turned to me.

“I feel like I just watched something important,” she said and I told her she did.

I could go on for hours about my literary hero McCarthy but for brevity’s sake let’s leave it at this: the man was a wordsmith and a genius (RIP). I told Quinn some titbits about the making of the movie and soon we were laid on our sides next to each other in bed chatting about our favourite current actors. We were interrupted because Quinn’s stomach growled loudly.  

She rubbed her exposed belly. “Ugh, I could eat a horse.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

“You need to chill it with the fat jokes shorty.”

I snickered and she shoved my head and I almost flew off the bed. A little shocked at how easily she’d thrown me.

“You know what I don’t want?”

“What?”

“Dinner with mum and dad.”

“Neither.”

It was only a quarter past five and our parents wouldn’t be home for at least another hour and we had no allegiance to them anymore so it was an easy decision. We locked up and made our way onto the street where Quinn’s car was parked and the clouds were glowing with the amber tinged sunset, she’d thrown on her blue flip-flops. As it goes with tall people, selection is often limited, whether it’s shoes, plane seats or cars, considerations must be made for their abnormally sized limbs and body. And at six foot seven, Quinn’s car was no exception, an absolute beast of a Ford Ute, one of those trucks you see hardened tradesmen driving around, but as she circled around the hood and stood tall by the driver side door, she made the truck look like a hatchback. An arctic white paintjob and a cloth-covered truck bed with a step beside the doors to aid someone like me who has to hold onto the door and grunt slightly as I step into the enormous cabin. I sat myself on the wide seat, an old gym bag and some empty plastic bottles I brushed aside to make room for my feet. She had to duck to get inside and the whole car’s suspension rocked with her weight as she stepped in and sat down, an audible whump as her butt made contact with the seat and she filled it out much more than I did.

Quinn drove us to a McDonalds we used to frequent when I first got my license, a little further out of the suburbs, we liked this particular one so much because it had a huge carpark and there were many corners tucked away by the nearby highway and large hedges, and at night it was a place we’d go if one of us had some juicy gossip that required a few hours to mull over, we’d find a nice secluded spot and chat until it was late. On our way there she played me an album she’d been obsessed with over the last couple of weeks. The Rise and Fall of the Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan. The tracks were campy and fun, it reminded me of Charli XCX but admittedly felt more fresh and self-aware. The sun finished setting as we pulled into the macca’s carpark and lined up at the drive through.

“You want a regular Quarter Pounder meal?” She asked me, remembering my order.

“Nah, go large,” I said, feeling ambitious.

“Okay big boy,” she giggled and drove up to the ordering machine. “Hey, can I get a large double Quarter Pounder meal with a coke no sugar, and can I get two extra hamburgers too. Yup, and a large Quarter Pounder meal with a coke.”

I was always left amazed at how much food Quinn could eat. We collected our food and Quinn drove us to a secluded corner of the carpark where we were surrounded by hedges and the only light around was the cabin light above our heads. She pushed her seat all the way back so she could tuck one of her long legs under her and leaned back ready to dig into her food. We ate, we listened, we chatted. She was polishing off her fries when the track Red Wine Supernova came on and she squealed in delight. I’d been able to focus solely on today while I’d been with Quinn and while yes I’d been incredibly aware of the drastic difference in our height I’d managed to keep my thoughts on the straight and arrow and even Quinn herself seemed to tone back her usual teasing attitude and we’d had a day reminiscent of the past. But when she turned the volume way up and the bass shuddered all around me in this cavernous Ute cabin and she started to sing along with the song, some of the lyrics were starting to throw me off as I heard her passionately recite them.

“Put her canine teeth in the side of my neck.”

And she leaned over and tapped her two fingers into the side of my neck.

“I just want you to make a move!”

She was joking, singing along. It meant nothing.

“Fell in love with the thought of you.”

It meant nothing.

“Red wine supernovaaaa. Fall right into meeee.”

Her voice filled the car with the music and the bass thumped through my seat. She was really into it, belting the lyrics, clenching her hands and sitting up. Pointing at me occasionally and trying to dance with me, pulling these sassy and seductive poses. Her big heavy boobs swayed and bounced along with her movements, barely constrained by her short white top.

“You just told me, want me to fuck you? Baby I will cause I really want to.”

She sung, saying the first part looking me in the eyes then shutting hers and excitedly singing the last part with her head thrown back. And I kept telling myself she was only singing along, but it was pretty much impossible not to imagine exactly what she’d just said and I went red.

“So baby, let’s get freaky, get kinky. Let’s make this bed get squeaky!”

I was staring at the remaining half of my burger. Slightly nodding my head to the music but really I was trying to hide the fact I had a burgeoning erection. It really felt like she filled the other half of the car, her head almost touching the ceiling, whereas for me I felt like a child in daddy’s truck, the huge gearstick rising to my right, bobbed with her hulking weight moving the whole cabin around. And her voice was so loud and she had a nice voice but it was pulsing through me and doing things to me that had only been waiting for their time to strike.

“Oh my god I love that song so much,” she said when it ended and fell back in her seat, minorly drained from the performance. She turned the volume down slightly.

“Yeah man, it’s a banger,” I said as passively as I could.

“Sorry if this is TMI but like, it kinda, turns me on.”

I just looked at her and she burst into giggles.

“What you prude, it’s literally about that.”

“I mean yeah it’s sapphic, I guess.”

I was using my arm to cover up my crotch so she couldn’t see the growing bulge, it was a slightly awkward position, I moved my drink for more coverage.

She smirked at me with these conniving suspicious eyes and poked my arm. “Why are you sitting like that?”

Oh my god. Oh my god? Was this it? “So…” I started to say, not really knowing what was going to come next. We were totally alone in the carpark. My hand reached forward, upward and turned the music lower again so I could think straight. “You know how you thought I was scared of you?”

A knowing grin spread across her face and I can’t describe how it made me feel. “Yeah?” She said, nodding, her eyes wide and attentive.

“I don’t really know how to describe it.”

“That’s okay, take your time.”

“But I’m scared for what it means between us.”

She didn’t say anything for a bit. “Nothing you say will change how I feel about you,” she said.

I looked in her eyes and I believed her.

“Is it because you think the same thing?”

“It depends on what exactly you mean by that,” she said, curiously.

I buried my red face in my palms, my erection had died down a fair bit from how nervous I was but I felt I’d boxed myself in this conversation and there was only one way out. I was melting in front of her, feeling so puny next to her.

“Quinn I – I think that I’m in love with you,” I said.

I felt her big hand pry my palms away from my face and I looked at her, she was leaning over me a bit, trying to get closer but in a comforting way. “You’re in love with me?”

“I think so.”

“Well, what do you love about me?” She shifted in her seat, pushing her leg under her so her knee crossed the space between our chairs and almost touched my leg.

“Everything.”

She scoffed. “That’s not very specific.”

I sighed, staring at her beautiful face, our eyes twitching as we studied each other so closely, her blonde hair fallen around her shoulders. “I love your dimples. And I love your eyes, and I love how you always widen them when you want to emphasise something.” For the first time it felt like, I made her blush. “I love your heart and I love your mind too and I love how you remember the things that I tell you. And, and…” I eyed over her big voluminous body filling out the car seat. “I’ve been so off recently because now I think I’m in love with your body too.”

She let out this amused little titter. “I knew it. I knew it I knew it I knew it!”

“Knew what?”

“Those little glazed over googly eyes you kept giving me.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Bailey we aren’t even blood related. It’s not that weird to be into each other.”

“Really? Do you really think so?”

“Psh, c’mon, haven’t you seen the Royal Tenenbaums?”

“N-no. I haven’t.”

“Well that’s what we’re watching next.”

I was a little confused. “Wait but, what does that mean. You like me like that too?”

She snorted. “Bailey… Yes. I do. I think I have a for a long time, but y’know,” she mimicked my voice, “you’re my little sister.”

I didn’t know what to say. Even though maybe long ago in the past I’d had an inkling of a feeling of what it meant to be in love, I’d managed to suppress those feelings or at least bury them far beneath layers of false platonic love. I was older, I should’ve explained it better and I began to think it were very cruel of me to never once consider the toll it might’ve taken on her to hold those feelings in for so long.

“I’m… sorry,” I said.

“Hey,” she touched my shoulder. “It’s okay. Like, I get why you said that obviously.”

I just shook my head. Who decided to make her so perfect I cannot tell you.

“So what does that mean for us then?” She asked.

“I don’t know. We need to be sensible.”

“Of course.”

“I think we should just take things nice and slow, especially while mum and dad are still here. And you know, the whole SIVID thing is pretty overwhelming so I need you to respect that alright? Let's go nice and slow, okay? We don’t want to do anything drastic.”

“Sir yes sir,” she said, grinning wildly. She leaned back on the car door window and her knee was bobbing with a happy twitch. She was staring down at me, I feel like she always made an effort to look me in the eye but now her gaze was exploring my body. Looking over my frail arms poking out my baggy shirt, my little legs half dangling off the big plushy seat of her big fucking truck. Her grin turned into a very smug one and she let out an amused huff of air. “I’m not gonna stop teasing you though shrimp.”

“Sticks and stones Quinndolin.”

“Oh my god shut up.” She untucked her leg from under her and shoved her huge foot at me and it pushed me all the way until I lightly thumped into the door. She hated when I called her that. “Do you wanna sleepover in my room tonight?”

Her foot retracted and she sat up properly in the driver seat and put her feet down at the pedals. She looked at me for an answer.

“Oh ummm.”

“Just so we can cuddle, or you can sleep on the floor if you really want.”

“No, yeah, I’d love to.”

“Sleep on my floor?”

“No, no.”

She smirked. “It could be cute, you could curl up by my bed like a lil puppy.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

She laughed and turned the engine on and the truck roared to life. She drove us home and there was a fun energy between us, she played more Chappell Roan and this time I was singing the lyrics with her and letting any and all feelings of shame fly out the window as we sped along the road.

*

When we arrived home, the lights were off inside and we snuck through the house to Quinn’s room. The shadowed duvet all ruffled up from our movie marathon, I felt her enormous presence push me into the room. It was quite dark but I could sense Quinn’s body looming large around me, her footsteps softly padding on the carpet as she crawled into bed. I followed her under the warm silky covers and they smelled of her creamy mango scented skin and I felt her hand graze over my stomach and around my waist and pull me closer to her. Her half-lidded eyes staring dreamily into mine, barely able to make out much more of her face in the shadowy light. She started tugging at my shirt and I got the message and took it off, I heard rustling as she removed her top too. My legs brushed against her thighs and they were still so smooth and it made a shiver go down my spine, she radiated with warmth and I was consumed by it as her hand ran over my side, her big fingers lingering over my hip and the side of my butt and then she grasped my thigh and pulled me right into her body, her hand almost encircled it. I didn’t have much to see but I could just feel how she absolutely dwarfed me, her hips rose over mine and her soft breasts splayed over my chest entirely, her skin gliding across mine, nubs swelling as they tickled over my chest hair. She used her nail to slowly trace back up my leg, gently scratching my side, over each little rib until she caressed my face in her hand.

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“I do,” I breathed. “But I’m scared.”

“That’s okay.” She kissed my forehead and her plush lips left a fading wetness. She turned my body around so she was spooning me. “We’ll take it nice,” she pulled my waist into hers and the seat of her pelvis and thighs nestled around me, "and slow.” Her huge boobs rested on my shoulders as she held me to her, her leg wrapped around mine and her thigh enveloped mine entirely. “Hm?”

“Yeah… nice and slow…”

Then she said sweet dreams and I couldn’t tell if she called me Bailey or baby.