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That certainly would help me avoid telling him why I despise her.
I pluck her sleek phone from her grip and find the contacts. I enter in “Tristan” because giving her the satisfaction of seeing Two on there boils my blood. Once I shoot a test text, I drop her phone onto her desk with a loud clank.
“You’re welcome,” she grumbles, snatching her phone from the desk. “I’ll send it later.”
She gathers the rest of her things and then bolts from the classroom. As other students begin entering for the next class, I open my phone and look at the text I sent from her phone. Once I save her as “Golden,” I shove my phone into my pocket and grab my bag.
“Your syllabus is on the floor, Mr. Sheridan,” Mr. Pederson remarks with a heavy sigh. “We’re barely one day in and you’re already scattered. Looks like I paired you up with someone who might keep you in line.”
I curl my lip up in disgust as I bend to grab the paper that now has someone’s dirty shoe print on it and cram it into my bag. “It’s a mistake, Mr. P.”
“You say mistake. I say serendipity.”
Giving him a curt wave, I stalk out of his room and out of the building. As I near the parking lot, I receive another text.
Dad: Can you do 11 since you have a break between classes? I’ll send you a pin of the location.
Dad’s questions aren’t suggestions, they’re law. So much for going home and spending a couple of hours with Cedarwood Mansion.
Me: K.
It’s the response he always gets from me when I’m angry. I don’t know why it pisses him off so much, but it always has. He responds with an emoji that’s cursing, which makes me bark out a laugh.
I’m nearly at the parking lot when I see a couple standing near a badass sports car. It’s one of the newer muscle cars—a remake of the classics—but still looks pretty damn cool. The owner of the sweet ride has a girl pulled against his chest and he hugs her tight. It’s then I recognize the shiny brown hair.
Gemma has a boyfriend?
The dude in question has tats on his neck, arms, and hands. His dark hair is a chaotic mess. Our eyes meet and he narrows his at me.
Don’t want your girlfriend, bro.
In fact, I want nothing to do with your girlfriend.
His eyes follow me as I make it to my car. I fling my bag into the passenger seat, inhale the natural musty age of the vehicle, and then fire it up.
Well, not on the first time.
My car never fires up on the first time.
Third time’s a charm, though, and within seconds, I’m peeling out of my spot. Golden’s imperfect boyfriend glowers at me and then flips me off.
Fucking prick.
I use both hands to flip him off for extra impact, but then my steering wheel starts veering toward a row of cars, and I’m forced to grab back on to straighten it. Normally, I don’t mind dealing with wonky steering, but today it’s just a reminder of what I am.
Two.
Broken little boy driving a broken old car.
What a great day for therapy.
Gemma
I call it twin magic.
For as long as I can remember, Dempsey, my brother, twin, and built-in best friend has always been there to comfort me or cheer me up whenever I’ve had a bad day.
Today has been awful and Dempsey’s timing is impeccable.
