I guess he does have a girlfriend I should know about.
“Right.” I nod. “What’s her name again?”
Justin laughs. “Don’t worry. I haven’t mentioned her before, and I don’t expect you to know her name.”
“Good, because I don’t know it.”
“Summer.”
I nod again, committing her name to memory so Justin can’t complain to our mom that I don’t listen to him or take the time to get to know him—which seems to be his chief complaint since we became adults and drifted apart. But I’m here to change that, to work on our relationship, so I repeat in my mind his girlfriend’s name one last time.
“You never answered my question. What are you doing in Telluride?”
“I’m taking time off from filming.”
“Won’t your bazillion YouTube followers protest?” There’s an edge to his voice, a hint that he doesn’t respect my job as a YouTuber.
“Eh, they’ll be fine.” I drop my canvas backpack on his couch.
He eyes it. “Oh, so you’re staying?”
“I thought I’d spend the holidays with family, unless you have a roommate—or does your girlfriend live here?” I move my gaze around, looking for any sign of female existence.
“Summer and I aren’t that serious.” He reaches for his jacket hanging by the door. “Listen, I have a conference call I have to be on in thirty minutes. I’d change it around, but it's Monday morning, and with Thanksgiving—”
“You’re fine. I don’t want to mess you up with work.”
“I’m sure Mom and Dad don’t have room for you with the remodel, so you can stay here.” The leather satchel on the table is the next thing he grabs before wrapping a magenta scarf around his neck. It’s fascinating that there’s a version of me that wears a scarf. I wouldn’t have been able to picture it if it wasn’t for Justin. “Can we catch up tonight when I get home?”
I force my eyes away from the pretty-boy scarf. “Yeah, go. I need to shower and sleep anyway.”
“The spare bedroom is the first door on the left, and the bathroom across the hall maybe has soap. I don’t even know. Steal whatever you need from my bathroom.” Justin’s hand is on the door handle, but he’s trying to be a good host.
“Go.” I wave him off. “I can figure it out.”
“Okay, sorry.” His steps pause. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” I’m surprised by how much I mean the sentiment, considering the last time I saw Justin, he told me I wasn’t a grown adult and I didn’t take life seriously enough. Kind of a douchey comment from someone I’m three minutes older than. But if we’re being subjective, I can see how he came to that conclusion. I barely graduated high school. I didn’t go to college. I don’t have what some people consider a real job or even a real home. I spend my days traveling the world, filming myself doing daredevil tricks. To my straight-laced twin brother, my choices seem childish. But that’s the theme of our existence. He’s the smart, responsible twin, and I’m the reckless, athletic one. The yin and yang of our family.
“I guess I’ll see you later tonight, then.” Justin nods once, shutting the door behind him.
In the silence, my jetlag hits hard, and I have a headache, but once I’m speeding down the slopes, all of that will disappear.
four
SUMMER
It’s annoyingwhen couples send each other funny texts or memes all day long when they should be working. We get it: you miss each other and are flirting via text. So cringy.
Okay.
It’s not cringy.
It’s cute.
So cute, in fact, that I check my messages at the next stoplight to see if Justin has texted. There’s nothing new since the last time I looked two and a half minutes ago. I pull up my notifications just to be sure I haven’t missed a call. All clear. Alexander Graham Bell is probably rolling in his grave. He invented an amazing way to communicate, and my boyfriend doesn’t even take advantage of it.
Friday night was the last time I spoke to Justin. Does that seem odd? Because it does to me. Shouldn’t there have been a Saturday-evening check-in, aHow did the tree search go with your family?Or even a Sunday,let’s get brunchconvo. Honestly, I’m an easy gal to please. I would be satisfied with a simple,Hey!Because we all know Justin’s freaking phone has been attached to his hip all weekend and all day today. There isn’t a good excuse for why he hasn’t answered my three—okay,four—phone calls and five text messages.
