“Have you talked to Monica?” I ask, wondering if my older sister will have any trouble getting home from Boston. She was in her final year of medical school at Harvard—we’re a family of overachievers, and she is actually coming home for the first time this year. I’d gone to visit her once or twice over the summer but it’s been at least five months since I’ve seen her, not counting FaceTimes. I miss her so much and I can’t wait to hug her.

“This morning. Her train is still on time and Dad is going to pick her up tomorrow, I think. Their storm is due to start a little earlier.”

“Christmas is in six days; I can’t believe she’s coming home this early.”

“I can’t believe she’s stuck it out this long.” He chuckles as we zoom through the somewhat empty New York streets. It’s late and most students have either left for the semester, are studying or partying, making the streets a little less congested than usual. We make it to his building in about five minutes and he pulls into the garage beneath. “You still remember my codes?” he asks me as he moves into the garage and the gate closes behind us.

“How could I forget? It’s my birthday,” I tell him and something spikes in my heart at the memory.

He parks in his usual spot and grabs his briefcase and what I assume to be a gym bag out of the back before grabbing my things as well, then ushers me into the waiting area for the elevators.

“So, what did you mean when you said you don’t like anyone? There’s no one at Columbia catching your attention?” he asks as we ascend to his apartment on the fourteenth floor.

I shake my head. “Nope,” I tell him as I pop the p.

“No guys sniffing around trying to take you out. Maybe a nice guy in accounting? Or pre-med? Stay away from the frat guys, Gab. They ain’t shit.”

“You were a frat guy, James.” I chuckle as he leads me out of the elevator.

“And I wasn’t shit in college.” He laughs and jealousy flares in my veins thinking about what he could possibly mean. I mean I know he was far from a virgin, but I’d rather not think about him sleeping with anyone in a skirt while he was in college.

“That’s not true. You’ve always been the best big brother.”

“Big brother yes, boyfriend, no.” He unlocks his door and lets me in. I immediately toe off my boots, and take off my jacket, hanging it on the rack next to the door. I’m wearing skin-tight leggings tucked into my fuzzy red and white striped socks and a somewhat oversized Columbia sweatshirt.