I laugh against his mouth. “It feels pretty real to me.”
“Summer?” The tone of his voice really accentuates the question behind the word.
I press my lips into him, mumbling over the kiss. “Yeah?”
That’s when he pulls back, swearing under his breath.
Headlights slice through the front window, dancing across his face.
There are moments in life that are so horrific that you know they’ll be ingrained in your mind and soul forever. They’ll pop up at two a.m., when you can’t sleep, and make you so embarrassed you feel like smothering yourself with your own pillow just to escape the humiliation of reliving it all over again.
This is one of those moments.
Because while my body thinks—thought—this man was Justin, my mind has been picking up on clues all along that it’s not. Like the stubble on his face that’s more than just a five o’clock shadow. Or how my tippy-toes still put me shorter-than-normal next to his frame. Or how his hair is longer with an unruly waviness that my fingers loved ruffling through. Or his bulging arms and well-defined back and chest. Or the final straw: the kiss was more explosive than anything else I’ve ever experienced. That probably should’ve been my first clue that the man I just kissed wasn’t Justin Davidson but his twin brother, Caleb.
Whom I’ve never met.
The horrifying realization causes me to jump back, hitting my calves against what can only be the open dishwasher. Why did it have to be open and in my way at this exact moment? I wish the horror stopped there, but in true embarrassing-moment fashion, I fall backward into the dishwasher, landing on the open door and bottom rack. I yelp in pain as the plastic rods and dishes stab into my butt. The appliance jerks forward, sending the top rack slamming into the back of my head. All of this gracefulness is accompanied by a loud crashing noise as glass plates and cups bang into each other.
Caleb swears again, trying to chase after my fall with arms extended, but he somehow manages to trip on the open door and fall over me to the ground. I roll off the jagged prongs poking me and slide to the tile, lying on my back beside him.
My chest heaves up and down with an ache that’s so tangible I should probably check myself into the ER.
What did I just do? And why did he let me do it?
I twist my head, looking at him. He’s pressed to the floor on his stomach like pancake batter just poured on a hot grill. His brows lift, and his eyelids pull open slightly.
“Al..ti…tude.”
“Huh?”
“Al..ti..tuuuude,” he groans as his eyelids flop closed again.
My brows drop in confusion. “What?”
“I’m sick. Get medi-sinny,” he groans again.
Then I know.
Caleb has acute mountain sickness from the high elevation.
And I just made out with him.
Now, I’m the one who feels sick.
five
SUMMER
“Okay, here we go!”I grunt as I help Caleb to his feet. He drapes his arm around my shoulder, putting most of his weight on me.
Thirty seconds ago, when he was kissing me back, he could hold his own weight. But now? Now, he’s so bad he needs me to drag him to the couch. It’s like a man-cold on steroids. And everything is made a thousand times worse because he’s shirtless. So I’m not just touching him. I’mtouchinghim. What started as a blessing has now become my worst nightmare.
“Where’s your shirt? It’s like ten degrees outside. Are you homeless? Does Justin know you’re here?”
“The room is spinning.” His neck rotates in a circular motion like he’s following the spin with his eyes. “Does it spin for you?”
“Nope.” Once we’re close enough to the couch, I lift his arm off my shoulder, pushing his body so he falls into the cushions.
