“No way am I sharing a bed with him!” My sister exclaimed. My mum sighed dramatically.
We were halfway through our family holiday, in some small town in the West of Ireland. The dreary weather outside was typical for the area, and so we were all huddled inside the small hotel lobby, a little damper than we’d like to be.
“It’s cheaper this way,” my mum explained wearily. “Really Elise, you used to take baths together. A night in a king bed is survivable.”
“When I was six!” Elise countered. “I’m nineteen now.”
“Old enough to deal with it,” my mum said with certain finality. I stood to the side, not speaking. I was unbothered by the situation. After a long day’s travelling, all I wanted was a good night’s sleep.
Elise huffed, blowing wet blonde hair from her face, and crossed her slender arms over the gentle swell of her chest. She was a bit underdressed for the weather, in a graphic tee and denim shorts that treaded a line between shorts and underwear. Goosebumps covered her forearms.
“Fine,” she said, probably too wet and cold to argue further.