“She’s like six years younger than my cousin Cora, Grant’s younger daughter.”
“No shit!” I wanted to high-five Grant from across the room, but I did my best to act appalled.
“I know. It’s wild. Cora almost lost her shit when she found out her soon-to-be stepmom was only twenty-six. She shouldn’t have been surprised, though. No female born before 1994 is named Rylie.”
I laughed. “That’s so true. I had a dog named Riley, actually. We had to put him down because he started having seizures and walking into walls.”
Zara stared at me. “You’re fun to bring to a party,” she said dryly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Oh, I can be tons of fun,” I said, bringing her hands up to my lips and giving them a kiss before swinging her out and then back in again so quickly that she squealed.
“There isn’t even any music playing yet.”
I grabbed her right hand with my left and put an arm around her waist. “I can sing something,” I offered, already beginning the first few lyrics of Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.”
Zara smiled through the first verse but eventually began singing along. We stumbled over a few lines, the lyrics much easier to remember when the actual song was playing. When I got to the chorus, I changed the words to “brown-haired girl” instead. I hadn’t intended the song to have a deeper meaning—or a meaning at all, really. I’d just chosen something that I liked and remembered most of, but as I sang, the symbolism of the words hit me hard. Zara and I had gone to school together, grown up together, but we unfortunately hadn’t connected until we’d reconnected. And I was thankful we had.
When we finished singing—a horrendous version that was nowhere close to doing the original justice—I gave Zara a kiss on the forehead before releasing her. “I feel like we should make love in the green grass now,” I said, thinking of the image the lyrics conjured.
Her lips turned up into a slow smile before she spoke. “Can we at least wait until it gets a little warmer out?”
“Warmer’s probably best. June?”
Her grin widened. “It’s a date.”
A few minutes later, I met Cora, who, appropriately enough, had brought her fifty-one-year-old boyfriend, Jay. He was a photographer, and they’d met when he’d photographed her naked for a book. It wasn’t one of those porno ones, though, Cora had assured us—as if people routinely set porn out in their living rooms for company to peruse at dinner parties. It was an artful collection of real women. I nodded like all of it made sense, and my performance was Oscar-worthy. I was more interested in their golden retriever they’d brought to the party than I was in their weird-ass Woody Allen relationship or the photos of Cora’s sideboob that Jay thrust in our faces.
“He’s older than Grant by four months,” Zara said when they were gone.
“They brought their dog,” I said slowly, “to an anniversary party.”
Zara burst out laughing. “They’re weird. In case you haven’t noticed.”
“You don’t say?”
“I guess I’m just used to it. My family’s a little different. Sorry if this is all…a little much.” Zara looked apologetic.
“Don’t look at me like that. Your eyes look like Cora and Jay’s dog’s.”
“Thanks,” Zara said with a laugh.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… It’s me who should be sorry. I put you in an awkward spot when I said I’d come to this with you.”
“No, you didn’t.” She grabbed my hands in hers and held them there. “I could’ve said no. Made up an excuse for why you couldn’t have come.”
“So why didn’t you?” I asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “Because I want you here with me.”
“I want to be here too.” And it felt good to tell the truth.
ZARA
Somehow CJ held his own with my family for the majority of the night. He ate the seconds and thirds my grandmother insisted he eat because he looked like he needed “some meat on his bones,” and he spent a good half hour dancing with my cousins’ kids—the oldest of whom was eight.
Seeing CJ on the dance floor spinning around with toddlers and elementary schoolers gave me a new appreciation for the goofball, who was really just a big kid himself. The children looked like they were having the time of their lives when he tried to breakdance and do the worm—a move I especially enjoyed because it looked more like he was humping the floor.
He took a break to get some water and was sitting for just a few minutes before my cousin’s twelve-year-old son, Charlie, came running over.
“You know any Fortnite dances?”
CJ raised an eyebrow at me and then looked back to Charlie. “Nope, but I have a feeling I’m about to learn some.” Then he headed back out and spent the next twenty minutes or so acting like a complete fool and loving every minute of it. I pretended not to notice when he motioned for me to join him, but he was relentless, finally coming over and pulling me out of my chair. “I’m gonna teach you the Fresh,” he said. “Charlie told me I’m catching on quick and I should start a YouTube channel.”
“I don’t think you need a YouTube channel.”
He was swinging his arms like Carlton on Fresh Prince as he spoke. “Fine. We can start a YouTube channel.”
“And what makes you think I’m interested in starting a YouTube channel with you?”
He grabbed my hands and swung my arms out and back in again before spinning me around. “We’re good together, don’t you think?”
I tried not to read into his words because, after all, that’s all they were. We’d spent a lot of time here putting on an act, pretending we were something we weren’t. Sometimes I got so wrapped up in the story line, I forgot it was only a performance.
But somehow during the last twenty-four hours or so, the lines between fiction and reality had become so blurry I could barely make them out anymore. Our feelings for each other seemed real. They were evident in the small, innocent touches we shared in front of my family as much as they were during the privacy of our own room when no one was there to watch.
“We are good together,” I agreed as I moved close to him. “Great, actually.”
A grin spread wide across his face before he brought his lips toward mine and gave me a soft kiss.
I had to remind myself not to deepen the kiss—not to give in to the near-constant desire I had for this man—but the need to be as close to him as possible was overwhelming. I felt like I could drown in it if I didn’t remember to stop and come up for oxygen.
He hovered his lips over mine and barely grazed them before pulling away and dancing like a lunatic again.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Chapter Sixteen
Zara
The next morning was a lazy one, consisting of pancakes, coffee, and quiet conversations in my grandparents’ kitchen, where my family attempted to find out everything they could about CJ before we left because they were scared they might never see him again. It wasn’t going to be easy to tell them we broke up when the time came.
My parents would be especially devastated, as my dad already seemed to be thinking of CJ as the son he’d always wished for. Not that my brother-in-law wasn’t a good guy. He was. But CJ and my dad had found some sort of connection over all things stereotypical male: sports, motorcycles, household projects. And he had just invited him on his next fishing trip.
“I said I would go,” I nearly whined, sounding more annoyed than I actually was. I couldn’t help but enjoy the fact that my parents seemed invested in CJ, even if their investment would end up being as worthless as a stock on Black Tuesday.
My dad shrugged. “I already have a partner,” he said, putting a hand on CJ’s shoulder. “Maybe next time.”
CJ looked at me apologetically, like it was his fault my dad had chosen him over me. “Or we could all go together,” he suggested, to which my dad laughed loudly, effectively grounding the idea before it even had a chanc
e to take flight.
And to further squash it, he said, “That’d be a little awkward, don’t you think?”
Not any more awkward than taking your daughter’s fake boyfriend on a male-bonding adventure.
“I guess,” I said. Knowing the fishing trip would never come to fruition, guilt flooded me quicker than it had all weekend. I’d never liked lying to my parents, and this weekend had been a true test of my ability to withstand my own conscience.
I looked at CJ, who’d just tried to grab another slice of bacon off the fresh pile on a plate next to my grandmother’s stove.
She swatted his hand away. “Hold your horses. You’ll burn yourself.”
CJ chuckled and slowly put his fingers on a strip of the breakfast meat before lifting it to his mouth and taking a bite. “I survived,” he said after swallowing. “The reward’s worth the risk. You really know how to cook bacon, Meemaw.”
My grandmother grinned so widely, I thought I noticed some wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there before. “And you really know how to sweet-talk an old lady.”
Leaning back in his chair with a sternness I rarely saw on him, my grandfather scolded CJ with his eyes from the kitchen table. “Better watch it, young man. She’s taken.”
CJ held up his hands—one still holding the slice of bacon. “I’d never dream of it. Besides, I got a girl.” He reached an arm around my waist and leaned down to kiss me on the temple. “And I don’t plan on letting go of her anytime soon.”
I knew the comment was for show, but I smiled anyway because hearing those words filled me with a warmth I didn’t want to lose. But I knew I had no choice. We’d be leaving soon, and things would go back to how they’d been when most of what we’d seen of each other had been without clothes on. It wasn’t that I didn’t like that—I freakin’ loved it—but this, what we had here…well, I liked that too.
I just had to find a way to go back to normal. Whatever normal looked like now.
COLTON
The ride home seemed to go fast. Too fast, actually. I probably should have stayed awake for more of it so I could have fully appreciated the last few hours of our weekend together. Groggy, I checked the clock on Zara’s dash, which told me we would be home in about forty-five minutes.
She wasn’t aware I’d woken up, so I took the opportunity to watch her. To study every beautiful feature—the light freckles on her nose and part of her cheeks that seemed to darken in the sunlight, her strands of soft blond hair that she’d swept behind her ear to expose her neck, where I could swear I could see her pulse beating.
I wanted to kiss her there, feel the evidence of her heart beating against my lips. Her eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses, and I wondered what she was thinking about. I could sometimes tell what she was thinking—or feeling—by the look in her eyes. I wanted to know what she was thinking now more than ever.
Reaching a hand over to place on hers, I said, “Are we there yet?”
She looked over at me, my head resting on the back of the seat as I watched her. “When did you get up, sleepyhead?”
“A few minutes ago.”
Laughing, she shook her head. “You were just staring at me, weren’t you?”
“Possibly. Does it bother you?”
She thought for a moment before answering. “No. It doesn’t. I like that you like to look at me.”
“Good. Because I don’t really have any plans to stop it anytime soon.”
She didn’t respond, and I felt a pang of anxiety. “Hey,” I said, and I waited until she looked at me again. “You okay? What are you thinking about?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer, but I couldn’t help but ask the question anyway. Despite all the lies that had transpired since we’d reconnected, I needed the truth to be present wherever it could.
“The restaurant, actually.”
I squeezed her hand in mine. “What about it?”
“Will it be weird for you? If I buy it, I mean?” The thin line of her lips told me this question hadn’t occurred to her just now. It was probably something she’d been wondering about for some time.
“No. Why would it be weird?”
“I don’t know. Well, I do, but I don’t know how to verbalize it.” She slid her sunglasses up to the top of her head, pushing her hair back.
“Try.”
She ran her free hand over the steering wheel while she thought. “It feels like I’m taking something that’s yours.”
“You aren’t taking something. And it isn’t mine.”
“It’s your family’s,” she said. “Your mom’s. And she’s not even here to agree to it. I don’t know. When I first considered buying it, we didn’t have…whatever we have now. I guess it just feels more personal than it should.”
“It is more personal.” Zara seemed to tense at my words, so I put a hand on her shoulder and massaged it gently. “But not in a bad way. I’m not gonna lie. It’s hard to see the restaurant go. There’s a part of me at that place, a part of my mom…of all of us. But I can’t imagine my dad selling it to just anyone.”
“Maybe he shouldn’t sell it at all,” she suggested.
“He can’t afford it, Zara. If he could, he’d keep it. He can’t make the repairs anymore or run the place on his own. It’s too much. And Co—my brother and I aren’t close enough to help him.”
Sighing, she said, “I guess you’re right.”
“As much as I love being right, I wish I weren’t right about this. But I know how hard it’s been on him, and I know he’s given this a lot of thought. I want to support him in that.” I brought her hand up and gave it a soft kiss. “And I want to support you too.”
“Thanks,” she said. “That means a lot.”
That’s what I was afraid of.
Chapter Seventeen
Colton
Zara and I hung out a few times after we got back from her grandparents’ party, and things between us had only grown more intense. We saw more of each other—naked, of course—and Zara was becoming increasingly difficult for me to resist. Somehow we’d transitioned from our purely physical relationship to one that seemed like something more, though I didn’t know what exactly more was. Other than some Netflix or grabbing a bite to eat or whatever.
I wondered if Zara had noticed the shift, but I didn’t want to bring it up, mainly because I didn’t want to analyze what it meant. Especially if it didn’t mean anything. Which it probably didn’t.
After being constantly in each other’s company for a weekend, it felt normal to spend time together, and I didn’t want to read more into things than were necessary, especially when this would inevitably end. There was no building something whose foundation was a lie. And I reminded myself I didn’t want to anyway.
I was getting dressed to meet her at a Korean place she wanted to try when Corey came in.
“What are you up to?” he asked.
“Nothing much. Just meeting Zara for dinner.”
When he didn’t respond, I turned to look at him and saw him staring at me smugly. “What?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Just didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
“Thursday?”
“No, dipshit. The day you, the self-proclaimed bachelor for life, would be dating someone.”
I stiffened. “We’re not dating.”
Corey narrowed his eyes at me. “What do you call it?”
“Hanging out.”
“Hanging out? Really? Are we back in high school?”
I walked over to my bed, grabbed my sweater, and pulled it on. “What would you call it, then?”
“I already told you. I call it dating.”
“And I already told you that we’re not dating.”
He seemed to think for a second. “So you’re banging other people, then?”
“No.”
“Is she?”
The thought alone made my stomach hurt, but Corey didn’t need to know that. “Not that I know of,” I bit out.
; “But you are still having sex with each other?” When I rolled my eyes at him, he continued. “So you’re exclusively having sex with each other, and on top of that, you’re meeting for meals and…whatever else you two do when you’re not naked.”
“Do you have a point in all this?”
He crossed his arms over his chest and smiled. “Define dating for me, Colt.”
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I grumbled, but he looked like he was willing to wait me out, so I answered him. “It’s when two people commit to be boring with only each other. And we’re anything but boring.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, because sitting on someone’s couch watching serial killer documentaries is so thrilling.”
Why did I ever tell him anything? It always came back to haunt me.
“We haven’t established that we’re not seeing other people. We just happen to not be.”
“Semantics. You may not have discussed it, but you’ve both obviously mentally made the decision to only see each other.”
“I don’t know that she’s made that decision.”
“So you’re admitting that you have?” Christ, he looked proud of himself.
“I don’t need to play the field when I have a sure thing lined up already,” I said, even though the words tasted bitter in my mouth. Truth was, sleeping with someone else didn’t hold any appeal. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even looked at another woman with any intent behind it.
Holy fuck, was I dating?
No. Dating was something both parties agreed on. There was a conversation and flowers and hugging and it was romantic and not like anything that had happened between Zara and me.
He stood there staring and smiling at me like the freak he was, so I moved past him. “Just because you haven’t seen any action in a while doesn’t mean you get to give me a hard time for having a sex life. I gotta go.”
“Okay,” he yelled down the hall after me. “Enjoy your date.”
Misadventures with a Twin Page 11