Just One Last Embrace

You know that saying about things in your life being able to change in an instant?

I never really understood how true that was, until puberty hit me smack in the face. Not even giving me a chance to recover.

I mean, how else do I explain my sudden feelings for my best friend?

One day I was writing angsty teen poetry, and the next, all of a sudden, my words were flowery and full of passion. Lines describing feelings for someone that I never thought I would look at in such a way.

At the moment, I sitting on the lounge chair in my backyard next to my friends, scribbling in my journal, while they gossiped among themselves.

They knew better than to disturb me when inspiration struck.

I bent my soul to the point that I shudder in wonder

Of you, making my heart flutter

My mind wanders as I close my eyes

Giving myself to you, memories etched with thunder

Moving covers as we slumber within lust of one another

I may appear to be caught up in ecstasy

Gripping you whole giving my all

Hoping you give something in return-Who knows?

Happy with what I had written, I put my black pen in-between the pages and closed the glossy black book. Seeing that I was finished, my friends wasted no time in bombarding me with their thoughts.

"Damn Kaelyn! Your brother is so bloody fit!" my best friend Jessica said in a hushed tone next to me as she ran her hands through her dark curly hair.

"I know right? Kamdyn Arnauld is goals!" Mindy, my other bestie, added, her cheeks red.

Rolling my eyes at them, "What have I told you two about drooling over my twin in front of me?"

"Would you like us to drool over your father instead? Now that's one fine ass Frenchman," Jessica countered, a dreamy look coming over her face.

"Bloody hell! No! Fantasising about my brother is fine! Please proceed!" I implored and shook my head.

"Thank you!" my best friends said in unison as they went back to ogling Kamdyn.

I made a gagging sound while glancing at my twin who was flexing his muscles at the edge of the pool. By all accounts, my brother was very handsome and I could understand the appeal that he had. Especially when he laughed, Kamdyn had a smile that could light up any room.

We were not identical twins, but fraternal, and we definitely looked like siblings.

Standing at 6'2, Kamdyn was about 3inches taller than myself. We both had natural tans to our skin, seeing as our mother Mikayla was of African and Indian heritage, while our father Damien was French.

Although Kamdyn did not tan as quickly as I did, when he did, his skin acquired a gorgeous golden-bronze tone that everyone would complement him on. My twin took more after my father, in that his eyes were a very intense shade of blue and green, and his brown hair was straighter in texture. My brother also had a great body as a result of the various sporting activities that he participated in.

In contrast, even though I was also active, my body took on a curvier appearance. I was a UK dress size that ranged between 12-16 depending on the designer. This was thanks to my mother Mikayla, as I had inherited her voluptuous shape which included thick thighs and a well-endowed backside.

Something that I used to get teased for, until having a big ass became a fashion accessory.

My own blue-green eyes were a bit lighter in colour and my hair was a fairer shade of brown, blonde in some parts, and had more of a natural curl and wave to it. To be honest, I wished my hair was curlier, like my mother's and Jessica's.

But it was nothing a bit of product and a diffuser attachment could not fix.

Shaking my head clear, I refocused on everything around me. A group of us were hanging out by my house, enjoying the amenities of the indoor pool. The school term had finally come to an end and we were kicking off our freedom with a party.

During the summer, we usually stayed in our hometown of London for a week or two before heading down to Monaco.

Ignoring my friends as they continued to giggle and gush over my brother, my eyes trailed over to his best friend Zayn who was standing next to him, flexing as well. Now to me, Zayn was goals. He was sexy as hell and was secretly the main character in all of my journal entries.

He was 6'3 with a muscular body, thanks to years of swimming and football combined. Zayn was the son of Tariq and Hannah Maalouf. He was quarter Arabic and the rest of his ancestry comprised of British and French descent. Like his father, he seemed to have a permanent 5 o'clock shadow, no matter how often he shaved.

Needless to say, he was panty-dropping gorgeous!

He had thick, luscious dark hair and piercing blue eyes, a combination that made the ladies swoon, both young and old alike. Those eyes basically got him anything that he asked for. They were perfect, if you asked me, as they were shimmery and speckled with various shades of blue and I could get lost in them for hours.

Zayn was popular with the ladies and I could not help but feel jealous of the girls that got to date him, silently wishing that it was me.

On the other hand, while I too was popular with the guys and had my fair share of dates, things never really lasted. Simply because I had two bodyguards in the form of my brother and Zayn, whom I sometimes called Thing #1 and Thing #2.

As a result, most guys did not think that I was worth the hassle of getting their asses beaten repeatedly. So, while the two of them got to date, I had to watch from the side-lines, which was fine by me, as the one I really wanted was clearly unavailable.