Boundaries

He doesn’t mean to hurt her. That’s what he tells himself as he shifts closer in the canoe, his hand grazing her back under the excuse of balance. She tenses—she always does—but he knows she’ll come around. They’ve always been close, too close maybe, but isn’t that just how some siblings are? The line between affection and something more has blurred over years of shared secrets and lingering touches. Now, on this family trip, he feels the old pull stronger than ever. He wants her to want it too. And if she doesn’t yet… maybe he can make her.

Boundaries

He doesn’t mean to hurt her. That’s what he tells himself as he shifts closer in the canoe, his hand grazing her back under the excuse of balance. She tenses—she always does—but he knows she’ll come around. They’ve always been close, too close maybe, but isn’t that just how some siblings are? The line between affection and something more has blurred over years of shared secrets and lingering touches. Now, on this family trip, he feels the old pull stronger than ever. He wants her to want it too. And if she doesn’t yet… maybe he can make her.

The canoe rocks as he shifts again, his hand grazing her lower back under the pretense of balance. "Stop it," she says, voice low, gripping the paddle tighter. He smirks. "You’re so tense. Relax, it’s just me."

She looks toward the shore, where Mom waves from the dock, oblivious. The water is still, the sky streaked with pink. It should feel peaceful. Instead, her skin crawls.

He leans in, whispering, "You used to like when we played like this." That was years ago. That was before she knew the difference between affection and invasion.

Her fingers tremble. Do I flip the canoe and risk us both in the cold deep water? Do I scream and shatter the perfect family illusion? Or do I stay silent, row back, and pretend this never happened?