“Why don’t you come over?” I suggest. “If you take the jet, you’ll arrive before ten. We can go out for a late dinner, go to a bar or just hang out here. If I try to fly to you, I’ll be landing after midnight, if I’m lucky.”
He stays quiet for a few minutes and then says, “Alright, I’ll be there. You can introduce me to Hottie Next Door.”
I make a noncommittal sound. Fuck, he’s going to know I’m attracted to her when he meets her. That’s the problem with being a twin—he can sense shit. Just like I know he needs to have company. If he hates to be alone, why the fuck isn’t he moving next door?
Saturday, June 13th
Nate arrived last night around nine. I have a feeling he was already at the airport boarding his jet and hoping to score an invitation to Colorado before he called me. I want to ask what’s happening, but he will tell me when he is ready. Instead of going out, we stayed at home, ordered takeout, and played videogames.
I’m an early riser. As I get out of bed, I’m expecting to hear the sweet sound of Persy’s voice streaming her daily yoga. The sight of her beautiful body moving along to her new age music. Instead, it’s my brother barking into the phone who interrupts the peace of my sanctuary.
“Morning,” I greet him, as I make my way to the kitchen and grab a coffee mug.
He glares at me and continues with his loud conversation. I take my time inserting the coffee-capsule into the coffee maker, pouring milk into the container and pressing the button to make myself a latte. This is a lot better than any coffee shop, and I don’t have to wait in line, repeat my order a million times because it’s impossible to hear over the noise, and hope that they understood everything I said.
And just because I’m a good brother, I prepare one for Nate, too. I go to the balcony in hopes that Persy is there, but the glass door is closed. There’s no movement from where I stand.
“Where is hottie?” Nate asks, making his way toward me.
“In her house?” I guess. “Did you really come all the way to Colorado just to meet her?”
He rolls his eyes. “She was an added bonus.”
“What do you want to do this weekend?” I ask, looking out at the horizon. “The weather is nice enough to go rafting or we can—”
“Do you want to go paragliding in Aspen?”
I cock my eyebrow. “What is my other option?”
“That’s all for today. Tomorrow, we can head to visit Dad and skydive near Monterey Bay. Not in that order,” he specifies.
This would be the part where I insist that he should move closer. I don’t say anything, though, because if he does, either Persy moves out, or I have to let him live with me, and we are too old to be roommates.
He looks over the balcony and says, “Maybe I’ll meet her tonight.”
“You are obsessed with her,” I tell him, trying to control my anger because I don’t even know why I am upset.
“That’s a strong word. I just think it’s important to get to know her.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, “Not everything needs an explanation, Ford. Pack a bag, we’re staying in Aspen and then flying to California tomorrow morning.”
Glancing one last time toward Persy’s place, I wonder if she’s okay. Maybe she stayed with her parents—or one of her sisters. I check her social media and the last picture she posted is the sunset.
Twelve
Her
Saturday, June 13th
I adore Callie. She’s my baby sister. Nothing that happens between us will change my love for her. That doesn’t mean I am thrilled to hang out with her, her shitty attitude, or her high school friends.
Instead of a breakup party at her place, we end up at a nightclub with her friends. Not a bar, like she suggested. Nyx and I are seconds away from leaving. It’s like having a high school reunion and being the outcasts.
Nyx and I didn’t have the whole high school experience. Since our parents were traveling a lot, we were tutored by them and some of their archeologist friends. When I went to college, my parents decided to retire and become teachers. Callie was thirteen, which means she got to have a more normal teenage life. She is the only one of the four of us who can talk about prom night, the cheerleading squad, and being queen bee.
I am pretty sure that Nyx and I would’ve been the emo girls from high school who everyone ignored.
How do I know that? Every time Callie invites us to hang out with her friends, we can’t get along with any of them.
“What happened to let’s hang out at home?” I ask Nyx.
“I know as much as you do,” she answers. “This isn’t my scene. If I knew this was a cheerleader squad reunion, I’d be home working.”
“You need to work less,” I remind her.
“Speaking of work, how is that quest for the mythological perfect guy going?” she asks sarcastically.
“Shot time!” one of Callie’s friends shouts.
“Who does plain vodka shots?” Nyx complains.
“Girls who are twenty-three and can’t afford anything more than the cheapest vodka?” I guess and shrug. We were like them a few years ago. Broke and buying whatever we could afford. Did she forget that? “Listen, the bottle was cheap, and they are treating your little sister. Why don’t we go to the bar, order something more to your speed, and you pay?”
“Ha! I don’t have a speed,” she says. “What would Persy, from the Life of Persy, order tonight?”
“Who cares?” I say dismissively.
“This girl loves her piña coladas, but since she’s doing shots with her sister, let’s go to our nearest liquorista and ask them what they recommend,” I suggest, and since she brought it up, maybe I should go live on social media. My followers love when I hang out with Nyx. “You in for the show?”
“Ugh, you’re going to broadcast this on social media?”
I nod in response, turning on the camera, making sure my makeup is still on, and reapplying lipstick.
“Well, at least people think I’m fun because I’m always hanging out with you,” she states. “Earlier, Callie called me a boring bitch.”
“Was she drunk or just being mean because her friends are around?”
“The latter. I love her, but I hate when she is with them.”
“She’ll grow up soon,” I say, hopeful. As I said, we love Callie. She’s the baby, but there’s not only an age gap between us, there’s also the fact that we were raised differently.
I pull Nyx with me, as I walk toward the bar and yell, “You are the best in the world, and I love to hang out with you.”
“This is why she hates us,” she sighs. “She doesn’t understand that we don’t need an entourage to have fun.”
“Exactly,” I say and wave at the bartender.
“What are you two gorgeous ladies having tonight?” he asks.
“Shots,” Nyx says. “What do you have that is new and sexy?”
“You look like an Alice in Wonderland kind of girl,” he says, winking at her. “Grand Marnier, Tequila, and coffee liqueur.”
“I want to try that,” she says cheerfully, then looks at me. “Who is the designated driver?”
“Neither one of us brought a car. We’ll take a Lyft to your place—mine is new, and I might be too wasted to remember the lock’s code.”
“We’re going to have to call the parents, aren’t we?” I’m not sure if that’s a question or if she’s confirming that we’re going to get wasted and end up at our parents’ place, because they live only a few blocks away from here.
“Oh well, they always said to call them when we drank, didn’t they?”
I take a picture of us, hashtag it and grab the first shot. “Ready?”
“Start the show,” she says, as I begin streaming live, greeting everyone and introducing Nyx and Lenox, our mixologist for the night.
“Whoa, that was so good,” Nyx says. “What else do you have?”
“What’s your favorite drink?” he asks me.
&
nbsp; “Piña colada with melon liqueur.”
“Absolut Leg Spreader,” he answers, mixing vodka with melon liqueur.
He hands one to each of us, and wow … it’s the best drink ever. I’m in total heaven. We wave at the camera, wish everyone a happy Friday, and I turn off the live stream before I ask for another Leg Spreader. We dance, then flirt with some college guys who I ultimately send over to my sister’s table. We head back to Lenox, order more shots, which is probably not a great idea.
Two Jolly Rancher shots, one pineapple upside down, and three Lemon Drops later, I am in the bathroom holding Nyx’s hair, while she’s puking her brains out.
“It was the sugar,” she slurs her words.
“Yep, nothing to do with the heavy amount of alcohol poured into those shots,” I confirm, texting our brother, because I don’t have the Lyft app on my phone, and I forgot to add a card to it, so every time I try to enter the number, it says invalid. Maybe I’m too drunk to even use a phone.
Persy: Where are you?
Eros: Home?
Persy: Can you pick us up?
Eros: Who is we and where are you?
Persy: Nyx and me. We’re at Muse’s.
“I swear I can hear him grunt all the way from his house,” I complain.
“Why can’t we take a cab or an Uber?”
Seriously, she wants us to take an Uber. I barely remember where I live.
Eros: I’ll be there in fifteen. How drunk are you?
Persy: I’m lucid enough to text you.
“He’s coming,” I announce.
“Who is coming?” Nyx asks, and moans, while holding her stomach.
“Eros.”
“I thought I was going to get lucky tonight, but I’m going home with my brother and my sister, not knowing if I’m going to make it through the night,” she complains
“You are going to live, and maybe you should work fewer hours and go out more often,” I suggest.
“Life with Persy starts now,” she jokes. “Are you giving me dating advice?”
“You? Never,” I declare. “I don’t even have advice for myself, Nyx. I’m trying to find a guy to date—and make him my forever guy. It feels fucking forced.”
“You know, you could just ask Eros for the money and pay it back to the publisher.”
“It’s more than getting out of the contract,” I declare. “Everyone sees me as the fun girl to hang out with, but when it comes to more, I’m not her. It’s now personal. What is wrong with being me? Why can’t I be the forever girl?”
“Any guy would be lucky to have you,” she states. “You’re so thoughtful, smart, and kind. Ian was just an asshole, Pers. I think he loved you, but he was threatened by your success, and he bailed out when he couldn’t get any deals, just for being your boyfriend.”
“So, he was using me?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Do you think I should quit?”
“Quit what?” she asks, concerned. “You love your job. What would you tell your listener if she was in the search of the love of her life and she thought her career was getting in the way of true happiness?”
“To think before she quits the best thing that’s happened in her life,” I answer.
There’s a bang on the door. “Nyx, Persephone, are you two in there?”
“My hero is here to rescue us!” We both say.
When we come out of the bathroom, he looks at us and rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known when I saw that picture of you drinking shots on Instagram.”
“I’m partying in moderation,” I clarify, pulling out my phone, “#Moderation.”
He laughs. “Moderation smells like a distillery and vomit.”
During the car ride, we decide to crash at Nyx’s. It’s a forty-minute drive, but she has enough guest bedrooms for everyone. When I finally get to one of the bedrooms, I just have a buzz. After I wash off the makeup, brush my teeth, and put on my pajamas, I decide to text Ian.
720327xxxx: What was it? I wasn’t good enough, or you were threatened by my success?
303895xxxx: Congratulations on your success, but why are you texting me?
720327xxxx: I just need an answer. It’s the least you can do for me.
303895xxxx: Who is this and why are you texting so late?
720327xxxx: Are you pretending that you don’t know me, Ian Trent?
303895xxxx: This is not Ian.
720327xxxx: I just need an answer. You don’t have to make up stuff.
303895xxxx: I am not pretending. I am not Ian, and I am sure the guy is a loser. Why would he leave such a prize? Who doesn’t enjoy texts at three in the fucking morning?
720327xxxx: It’s just two.
720327xxxx: Are you making fun of me, Ian?
303895xxxx: Again, my name isn’t Ian. I think you have the wrong number.
720327xxxx: Asshole, he changed his number after dumping me.
303895xxxx: I wouldn’t know. This has been my number for a few years. Maybe … and this is just a wild guess, you texted the wrong number?
720327xxxx: You might be right. This couldn’t get more pathetic.
303895xxxx: It could.
720327xxxx: How?
303895xxxx: You could be at home, texting your ex, trying to figure out what went wrong between the two of you, so you can get back together. Thank fuck that’s not the case.
I laugh as I read the texts we’ve exchanged so far. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t buzzed.
“Go to sleep, Persephone!” Eros yells.
720327xxxx: You are right. Texting a stranger is so much better. Sorry for waking you up. I don’t know what’s been happening with me lately.
303895xxxx: You just broke up with a guy you thought would be the one?
720327xxxx: No, I’m trying to figure out why all my relationships just end without a warning. One day, we’re happy, and the next, it’s over, and there’s nothing to fix.
303895xxxx: Maybe it’s not you, it’s them. Stop dating losers.
720327xxxx: Well, then I should read a book called, How Not to Date a Loser?
303895xxxx: If you can’t find it, try Not Dating Any Dummies.
720327xxxx: I like your sense of humor.
303895xxxx: Take it from me, dating is overrated. Try just hanging out and having sex, no messy feelings and no deep conversations.
720327xxxx: Let me guess, you’re a thirty-some-year-old male who happens to love his freedom but, deep down, doesn’t trust women.
303895xxxx: Are you analyzing me?
720327xxxx: Just guessing, since you sound a lot like my brother. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation why you choose to be single. My brother claims it’s because he still has a lot to figure out before falling in love.
303895xxxx: Your brother sounds like a smart guy. I might like him.
720327xxxx: I guess you have zero answers for me.
303895xxxx: Here is a suggestion, stop dating.
720327xxxx: I like dating and falling in love.
303895xxxx: Do you like getting your heart broken, too?
720327xxxx: No, but I love feeling wanted. I love sharing my world with someone.
303895xxxx: A guy could want you without dating. Just go out, meet new guys, and switch it up often so it doesn’t go stale. That’s why breakups happen.
720327xxxx: How about having a best friend who you can share everything with? A person who you can trust with everything—including your heart?
303895xxxx: I have friends who I trust. Why would you want to share your heart, though? That sounds like a messy transaction.
720327xxxx: You don’t believe in relationships?
303895xxxx: I believe that they aren’t for everyone.
720327xxxx: Who broke your heart?
303895xxxx: Are you ready for my darkest, deepest confession?
720327xxxx: Yes!
303895xxxx: I have never been in love.
720327xxxx: That’s impossible.
&
nbsp; 303895xxxx: Nothing is impossible. I guess there are people who don’t emanate enough chemicals to fool your mind and body.
720327xxxx: We got a cynical guy on the line!
720327xxxx: Tell us, what makes you think love is just a chemical reaction?
303895xxxx: My science teacher. It’s just designed to enhance your life experience.
720327xxxx: And he’s funny, too. Maybe you haven’t found the woman who can be more than just sex.
303895xxxx: Interesting theory. Maybe you think every relationship has to end in a happily ever after.
720327xxxx: A happy ending doesn’t mean they lived together forever. You can have a mature relationship with a person and end it on a happy note. Some relationships have shorter cycles than others.
720327xxxx: You fall in love with someone, and that love either transcends or dies. When that happens, you move on, but, hopefully, you stay friends with the other person.
303895xxxx: I actually think the whole idea of love is kind of unrealistic and outdated.
720327xxxx: It’s not, and there has to be the one out there. Have you ever seen someone and think, I want to know them?
303895xxxx: Maybe it happened to me once, but we were too young. I guess that’s where my love story ends.
720327xxxx: Another set of soulmates lost forever, sniff.
720327xxxx: :sad face emoji:
720327xxxx: Well, this was fun. Thank you for … chatting with me.
303895xxxx: Good luck on your quest for the holy grail.
720327xxxx: It’s not a quest or the holy grail just… I don’t know. It would be nice to have someone beside me.
Thirteen
Her
Sunday, June 14th
I have the best brother in the world. When I wake up, there’s a glass of orange juice and the vitamin supplement Mom has been giving us since we were teenagers. I swallow them, and drink the juice before getting out of bed. I check my phone. It’s a habit of mine, going through my social media, checking my emails and then my private messages.
I freeze when I look at my texts and remember my conversation. What was I thinking last night?
Wrong Text, Right Love Page 8