Forced to be my sisters lover in a reverse world-Chapter 46: feels like a kiss

We settled into a booth at the diner, Elara sliding in by the window with a casual grace, her shoulder brushing against the glass as she adjusted herself.
I took the spot next to her, expecting Bella to claim the opposite side of the table for some breathing room. But no, she slid right in on my other side, her hip pressing against mine as she made herself comfortable. The three of us were packed in tight, just like at home when they'd sandwich me on the couch during movie nights.
"Pretty cozy, huh?" Elara remarked with a small smirk, her fingers reaching for a stack of napkins from the chipped dispenser by the window. She placed them in the center of the scratched-up table.
A few minutes later, a young waiter approached, probably no older than nineteen, wearing a slightly wrinkled apron tied around his waist and clutching a small notepad in his hand. His hair was a bit messy, like he'd been running around all shift, and his eyes darted between us with a nervous flicker.
Poor guy. I couldn't help but wonder if he was getting harassed by customers—maybe some overly flirty women tossing suggestive comments his way.
I'd been there myself, working a gig like this at sixteen. I still remember the constant catcalls, the awkward requests for my number, and the way some women would linger too long at the counter with sly grins. Thank God I didn't stick around at that job for more than a few months.
He set three menus down, hands trembling, and we each reached for one at the same time. The menu was thick—pages and pages with basically every breakfast item known to humankind. My stomach growled in anticipation of what was to come.
"I–I'm Michael," the waiter stammered, wringing the pen between his fingers like it might snap. "I'll be taking y-your orders today... l-let's start with drinks..." His eyes flicked between us like he was tracking danger, not customers. Poor guy looked like he might pass out. I honestly wanted to hug him and tell him everything was okay.
"I think three coffees will do," Elara said smoothly, glancing at Bella with that confident tone that usually ended a conversation.
But Bella raised a brow and leaned forward. "Actually, do you guys have chocolate milk?"
I snorted under my breath. Of course she would.
Michael flinched slightly, then nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, we do... s-so two coffees and one chocolate milk?"
We all nodded, and he seemed relieved to have survived the exchange.
"O-okay, I'll be right back..." he murmured, holding his small notepad to his chest like a shield before hurrying off. I watched him disappear through the kitchen doorway, shoulders tight with nerves.
Bella flipped open the menu dramatically. "So many goodies. Dear god..." she whispered, eyes wide like she'd discovered the gates of heaven.
"All on me," Elara added casually, barely glancing up from her own menu.
I scanned the pages, already knowing what I wanted. "I think I'm gonna do three chocolate chip pancakes with some chicken tendies on the side..."
Bella glanced at me with a smug grin. "I think I'm gonna do the same—except it'll be ten pancakes."
None of us reacted with shock this time. We'd seen the monster in action before.
It still amazed me how someone built like a goddess carved out of marble could inhale that much food and stay toned. If I ate more than six pancakes I'd probably throw up halfway through and still magically gain twenty pounds. Life isn't fair sometimes.
"Blueberry pancakes and bacon with eggs for me," Elara said casually, flipping her menu closed with one hand. I let my head fall onto her shoulder, sinking into the warmth of her body. The diner's ambience wrapped around us—soft chatter, clinking silverware, the smell of coffee and syrup, sunlight spilling through tall windows. Cozy. Safe. Alive.
A few minutes later, Michael returned balancing a tray like it weighed a thousand pounds. On it were two steaming mugs, a glass of chocolate milk filled to the brim, and two medium sized kettles of coffee. He set everything down carefully, as if afraid something might topple.
He pulled out his notepad, steadying his voice.
"Are you guys ready?"
We all nodded.
"I'll have ten choco-chip pancakes with chicken tenders on the side," Bella announced proudly.
Michael blinked, his pen pausing mid-scribble before he wrote it down. Then he turned to me.
"I'll have the same, but only three pancakes." I gave him a reassuring smile, and I watched his shoulders relax a little. For the first time since he approached, he actually looked like he could breathe.
Then he shifted to Elara.
"Five blueberry pancakes, eggs and bacon on the side... oh, and add some sausage links too," she said.
Michael nodded, scribbling quickly. "Okay. Should be here in under twenty minutes. L-let me know if you need anything..." He tucked his notepad under his arm and hurried off again, but without the frantic stiffness from before.
Once he was gone, Bella reached for her chocolate milk and took a long sip, eyes closing dramatically. "God, I love choccy milk."
Elara's hand slid onto my right thigh under the table, warm and grounding. I leaned further into her, safe between the two women who practically ran my world.
Bella's hand slid onto my left thigh, fingers settling with a slow, deliberate squeeze. A chill crawled up my spine. Elara didn't seem to notice—or maybe she did and simply didn't care—her attention stayed locked on my face, her thumb tracing idle circles on my other thigh like she was grounding me to the earth itself.
I swallowed hard. Being between them felt dangerous, electric... like standing in the eye of a storm. I wasn't sure if I wanted to run or melt into the seat. Their hands were warm and firm, a silent tug-of-war over me, and the pressure made my lungs tighten.
Time passed in strange, quiet stillness. The sound of clattering dishes, murmured conversations, and the hum of the diner's old ceiling fans faded to white noise. All I could focus on were their fingers, gripping me like I belonged to both of them.
Finally, Michael returned, balancing three massive plates across his arms. His face was red with effort, and I could see his wrist trembling under the absurd weight of Bella's ten-pancake tower.
I almost stood up to help him, but he managed to set each plate down—first Bella's mountain of food, then mine, then Elara's—followed by two glass dispensers of syrup that clinked softly against the table.
"There you go... l-let me know if you need anything..." he muttered breathlessly before retreating to another table, bracing himself against the counter like he had just run a marathon.
The smell of syrup and pancakes drifted up sweet and heavy, but all I could think about were the hands still claiming me, tightening just slightly... as if the food was only the beginning.
Bella's hand finally slipped away from my thigh, leaving a ghost of warmth behind. She grabbed her fork and immediately dove into her plate, shoveling pancakes into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days. Syrup smeared along the edge of her lip as she devoured bite after bite with reckless speed.
"Hey, hey—slow down, Bella," I murmured, reaching over to rub small circles along her back. The cool grain of her leather jacket met my fingertips, smooth and chilled compared to the heat radiating off her body. "We've got all day..."
She paused mid–second inhale, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, and swallowed hard before laughing under her breath. "Yeah—haha—sorry, Noah. Guess I was starving."
Her voice had that raspy edge she got when she was trying not to look embarrassed. She adjusted herself in her seat and took a more controlled bite, glancing sideways at me like she was checking for approval. I just smiled softly and picked up my own fork.
Beside me, Elara started eating too, neat and precise as always—cutting clean squares, dousing them gently with syrup, like breakfast was some kind of ritual instead of a race. Her shoulder pressed against mine, calming and solid, while Bella's energy crackled across the table like static.
For a moment, all three of us ate in silence, the only sounds being the scrape of silverware on ceramic and the low hum of conversation floating through the diner.
The warmth of the food, the smell of butter and sugar in the air, the soft pressure of Elara's and Bella's thighs against mine—it all settled around me like a blanket.
"So, Bella—" Elara spoke through a mouthful of sausage, barely bothering to swallow first, "—you gonna pass high school this year?"
The question hit like a stray bullet. Bella paused mid–chew, eyes flicking up for a split second before dropping back to her plate.
Bella had been held back three times already. Twenty-one years old and still sitting in classrooms filled with seventeen year olds and eighteen year olds. I still had no idea how the school even let her stay enrolled. Maybe they were scared of her. I would be.
"Nah," Bella sighed, scratching the back of her head with the fork handle. A crumb of pancake flung off and landed on the table. "I wanted to, y'know—'cause of Noah. But I realized I'm too far behind. So I'm just dropping out. Gonna get my GED or whatever."
Elara raised an eyebrow, but didn't look surprised. "So what's your plan after this year?"
That question froze Bella like someone had pulled the plug on her brain. She blinked, silent, staring into her chocolate-milk glass like the answer was swirling somewhere in the bottom. Her jaw tightened. She looked genuinely lost, and for the first time since I'd known her, I saw something fragile in her eyes... something scared.
"I... dunno," she muttered. "Never thought about what comes after."
Elara didn't hesitate—not even for a second. She swallowed her food and leaned forward, voice soft but sure.
"If you don't have anything, I think I can get you a spot at my place. It's good money. You'd be my assistant—paperwork, deliveries, small jobs. Nothing crazy."
Bella's head snapped up, eyes widening, like she'd just been tossed a life preserver in a storm. I caught myself staring between them, stunned. The way they looked at each other... the honesty in their voices... they didn't feel like two people constantly circling war for my attention. They looked like sisters—like two wolves who'd survived the same winter.
Bella swallowed hard. "Seriously?"
Elara nodded. "Seriously."
Bella smiled. Not her usual cocky grin. A real one. Soft. Unarmored.
"I'd... like that," Bella said quietly, almost shyly—so unlike her usual boldness. She lowered her gaze and went back to cutting into her pancakes, eating slower now, more thoughtful than hungry.
Something in the atmosphere shifted. It felt warmer, softer. The tension that always hovered around us loosened, replaced by something that settled gently in my chest.
And that was the problem.
My heart felt warm—dangerously warm. I should hate her. I should despise her for what she did to me just a few days ago, for taking something from me I wasn't ready to give. I should push her away, never let her touch me again. That's what any normal person would do, right?
But instead... I'm falling. Hard.
Every single day I fall deeper into whatever spell she's wrapped around me. The way she looks at me like I'm the only thing that matters. The way she protects me without apology. The way she smiles, the way she laughs, the way she says my name like it's sacred.
I'm supposed to be angry.
I'm supposed to be broken.
But all I feel is this unbearable love for Bella and Elara.