Best friend's brother Stories

“Hurry up,” Tasha scolds me. She’s the one who told me to ‘slut it up.’ I’d love to see her try to haul ass in four-inch heels without snapping an ankle. She picked flats, of course. The hypocrite. “It’s my birthday, you don’t get to talk to me like that,” I whine. It’s not very effective. She doesn’t slow down. A gust of wind passes right through my coat, and I hunch lower, cursing my little black dress for doing absolut...

The priest, a withered man from Martinique whose voice still carries better than the old chapel’s speakers, finally tells us to sit down for the last time. All around us, the small parish slumps with relief. Nearly two hours of Christmas mass has worn them down. I look over at the four Millers, sitting in a well-behaved row. Predictably, my eyes land on Roman’s broad shoulders. He’s not doing anything special. Just breath...