Page 13 of Beni

“Impossible.”

A smirk answered her back. “But is that a problem?”

“Wake up,” Beni snarled.

He was fed up with kindly telling his twin to roll his lazy, hungover ass out of bed. Bene barely reacted beyond a displeased grunt under his breath before rolling over in the black sheets that covered his bed. In fact, he even went as far as dragging the matching black comforter with silver accents over his head to block Beni out. Like that was really going to work. Come on, you know me better than that.

Beni grabbed the comforter, and ripped it away from his brother. Along with the flat sheet, and the pillow he was using. That left Bene blinking, dumbly and probably still a little drunkenly, against the bed.

“Next is gonna be cold water on your face,” Beni said, amused.

“But why?”

“We have shit to do. Get up.”

He’d been telling him that for an hour now. On and off, as he got up and around, readying for the morning and the rest of his day. He kept coming back to his brother’s room in their shared Chicago apartment in the Heights—the place wasn’t amazing, but it also wasn’t a shit hole. Given they were two bachelors and mostly just needed a place to sleep considering they rarely did anything else at their place, it worked for them.

“I’m too hungover for your shit today,” Bene mumbled, smooshing his face into the mattress. “Go away.”

Nope.

Beni stayed put.

Six months working and living in Chicago, and you would think Bene might have learned by now not to overdrink. They always had shit to do the next morning, usually early. No one needed to be feeling like a walking, talking ball of puke while doing it.

Except for Bene, it seemed.

“I told you not to get smashed last night,” Beni said, picking up a few of the stray pieces of clothing on the floor to throw over the chair in the corner. “And now look at you.”

“Shjhf jhjd nknksj.”

“What?”

All he heard was unintelligible mumbles.

Bene turned his head, so he faced his brother with closed eyes. “I said, it’s fucking Saturday, Beni.”

“And we have to be at the gym in an hour. So …?”

“That’s … that’s a no from me, bro. I’ll puke all over the mats if I workout today.”

“And I don’t workout alone, so get your ass out of bed. Your hangover isn’t my problem.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“But do you really?”

“Right now,” Bene said in a disgusted sigh, “more than you will ever understand.”

And yet, he was still getting what he wanted. It took a bit of effort, and some time with Bene sitting on the edge of his bed with his head between his knees to soothe the rising vomit. He did eventually get his twin out of bed and looking like he might be ready to hit the gym.

Yeah, he could have gone alone.

Except he didn’t want to.

He watched Bene’s bare back—uninked, like his; their father always clear on his great disdain for tattoos—disappear into the bathroom across the hall from their bedrooms that were situated side by side in the small apartment. The door slammed closed behind his twin; another sign Bene was not in the mood for this today.

Oh, well.