He slumps back as if he’s out of energy. I’ll have to lift his feet onto the couch so he can lie down fully.
“Why not?” I say out loud to myself as I grab his ankles and swing them up onto the cushion at the opposite end. “We’ve already made out. Why don’t I just tuck you in? I’m sure Justin won’t mind.”
Oh, my gosh! What if Justin had walked in while we were kissing? I can’t even wrap my head around how bad that would’ve been.
Caleb scoots his body farther into the couch until he finds a comfortable position. He lifts one arm up to his head, using his thumb and index finger to rub his temples.
“Medi-sinny. Please.”
“You want medicine?”
His other hand points at me. “That’s it. Me-di-sinnnn.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes, because he’s sick, but I also want to roll my eyes because I’m annoyed that he’s so sick that he didn’t stop me from kissing him.
“Hold on,” I say as I walk back to the kitchen, flipping on the lights.
“Bright light! Bright light!” His voice goes high and tiny like a Gremlin.
“Sorry.” I shrug over my shoulder. “I can’t find the medicine without the lights on.”
Caleb doesn’t react, just covers his eyes with the palm of his hand.
I take a moment and straighten up the kitchen from the dishwasher debacle. It’s a Christmas miracle I’m still alive. Those plastic prongs could’ve stabbed me to death. I’ll probably have tiny bruises all over my butt and back.
It only takes a second for me to find the medicine cupboard. I grab four pills and fill up a glass of water, taking it all back to Caleb.
“Here.” I open his hand, placing the pills inside.
He throws them into his mouth and reaches for the water, downing the entire glass in one long gulp. He hands me the glass, then resumes his position with one hand rubbing his head.
I stand over him, trying to figure out how in the heck this whole mess happened. The light from the kitchen helps illuminate the problem.
Caleb Davidson is Bizarro Justin—the perfectly opposite duplicate of my boyfriend. And when I say perfect, I meanPurrrfectwith a capital P. Everything about him is enhanced. His eyes are bluer. His hair is browner. His lips are fuller. His muscles are bigger. His six-pack is more defined. He’s even three minutes older than Justin. It’s like someone injected Justin with a whole lot of flawless.
In the world of twin brothers, that’s just not fair.
But for me, Justin will always be the better twin.
Caleb gifts me a lazy smile, and good grief—eventhatis more charming than Justin’s. Didn’t I just say that Justin is the better twin? And oh, my gosh! This isn’t a competition. There’s no such thing as abettertwin. I cover my face with my hands, horrified by this twin-brother compare snare I’m trapped in. And more importantly, I’m horrified by the fact that I just kissed Justin’s brother.
“Are you crying?” His question is valid since my fingers are covering my face.
Aside from popping my head up and shouting, ‘Peek-a-boo!’ I don’t think this moment could get more embarrassing. I slowly lower my hands, meeting his half-awake gaze. “No, I was freaking out because I’m a cheater. Thanks for that, by the way. Thanks for turning me into a cheater.”
“You’re Summer,” he says, closing his eyes again. “Justin’s boyfriend.”
“Girlfriend,” I correct, placing a pillow behind his head. “But after everything that just happened, I might not be that anymore.”
“You’re beautiful.” His statement is just that—a statement. There’s no smirky smile or glimmering eyes—his eyes are actually closed.
“Uh…” I straighten. “Thanks.”
“And a good kisser.” Another statement with no flirtation behind it, but that doesn’t stop me from looking around the room at no one in particular because we’re alone. But if there were actually people here, I’d make eye contact with them, sharing a knowing look that any sane human being wouldn’t have said that comment out loud.
I think he’s a good kisser too, but those words will never be uttered out loud.
I nervously run my fingers through my hair, flipping it to the side. “Well, just so we’re clear, I didn’t mean to kiss you.”
