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“Yep.”
“With me?” Silence. Was he asking me to go with him?
Too late.
“You should go ask Leslie. I’m sure you’d much rather take her, seeing as you were all up on her this afternoon.” I couldn’t help it. The bite came out and there was no taking it back.
Turning to finally see him, he clicks his tongue. “Are you jealous, ma fille?”
I scoff. Screw him and the freaking French class he’s been taking since we were seven. I choose American Sign Language because, you know, it actually benefits you in this country. “Not at all. Get over yourself.” I flip my hair, attemptingto turn when he captures my hand, dragging me into him and caging my body to his.
“Come on, Roe. You know you’re the only girl I want to go with.” His voice is gentle, but his touch is hot. I peer into his green eyes that sparkle like the rarest of gems.
“I’m going with William,” I speak softly. He releases me like I’m on fire. Hurt flashes in his eyes as he stares me down.
“What?” he whispers. I just shrug. Damage was done.
I’d never seen him get out of the car so fast. He even slams the door in my face before he rushes off next door to his house.
I guess we’re having our first fight.
I walk into my house, the beautiful yellow and lavender soothing me. My dad is looking over his papers in the kitchen when I enter. “Hey, baby, how was school?” he asks.
“Good.” I sigh as I sit down beside him.
“Staying away from those Masterson boys?” He looks up, a serious glare in his dark eyes. “Dad. Can we not? Nixon is my best friend.” He shakes his head before going back to his papers. “So, um, Daddy. I got asked to the dance and, well—”
“No.” He doesn’t even look up at me. “No boys until you’re fifty. We’ve talked about this, Monroe. No boys ever.”
“Leave her alone, Bry.” My mom walks in, swatting my dad on the back of the head with a newspaper. She is dressed in a royal blue dress and her chocolate hair is in a French braid. My mom is timeless. Dad grunts at her.Did I ever mention my dad is a grump? Because he is.
“Boys only want one thing,” he begins, and I groan.
I do my best impression of my dad when I say, “And it’s not to take you to church. Seriously, Dad, I’m fourteen. And that saying is utterly ridiculous. Of course no boys want to go to church. You don't even go to church.” I throw my hands up at him. He scowls.
“All right, you two, that’s enough.” My mom smiles at us as we both frown at her. “You can go to the dance, Monroe. Your father will drop you off.”
He grunts again but doesn’t argue. Sighing, I rise to my feet and walk up to my room. I lay on my bed, wondering how I could fix this mess I so hastily got myself into.
Nixon
I walk into my house and immediately cover my eyes. “Damn it, Dad. Stop defiling my mother in the living room!” I feel a shoe hit the side of my head as I run up the stairs to my room.
I swear to God they were teenagers. Like they don’t know what time we get home? And God, my poor mom. I’ll never understand how that works and I don’t want to. Everett comes in with a green face. Everett is my twin brother. Identical. We enjoy switching it up on the people we could fool. Like, one day, we went to each other’s classes, and no one knew the difference. Although we have different colored eyes—Everett’s being blue whereas mine is more green—you could only tell if you looked close enough.
“Why are they always fucking?” he asks, but I knew he didn’t want an answer. I lay on my bed, staring at my ceiling, thinking of ways to kill William. “So.” Everett breaks the silence, spinning in my desk chair. “Did you ask her?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I grumble.
He laughs. “Maybe I should give it a shot. You know, maybe the wrong twin is asking.”
I have never gotten up off my bed so fast in my life. I hold him in a headlock, dragging him into the hallways and throwing him down the stairs. He tumbles before he crashes, hitting my mom’s favorite vase.
“Boys!” my mom yells.
“Sorry,” we say in unison. She is used to us breaking shit. Everett groans as he hops up off the floor, while I go back to my bedroom to take a freaking nap.
* * *
