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“Ahh, okay,” Jamie says. “We’ll meet you guys inside.”
Drake follows behind Jamie with nothing more than the tip of his head in acknowledgment, and then they disappear through the front doors of the SAC.
“Great. Now your friends know, too,” Jemma says. “Pretty soon, everyone on campus will know, and I will be the laughing stock of Strickland University.”
“No,” I promise. “We won’t say anything. Our friends can keep a secret.”
“I hope so.” Jemma blows out a puff of air, frustrated. “I really do have to go.”
“For whatever it’s worth…” I say, staring into her watery eyes, “… I do like you. And I meant everything I said.”
“Me, too,” says Tucker, and I do everything in my power not to punch him in the face.
Jemma sniffs. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something. Instead, she walks away, taking a piece of my heart along with her.
“You better get her out of your head,” I tell Tucker. “She’s mine.”
He smirks. “Fuck you. I met her first.”
Shaking my head, I walk away, seething mad at my brother. He knows me well enough not to follow.
I have no idea how to feel, how to act. He didn’t do this on purpose. Neither of us are technically at fault, but I’m sure Jemma wants someone to blame. I wish I could take away her pain, make it hurt less. But nothing will help. Maybe time and a lot of groveling will be enough to get her back. That is if Tuck doesn’t try to compete with me.
Eighteen
Jemma
I’m in shock. My mind stopped working the second I laid eyes on Tucker and Trent. They’re identical twins, their appearance the same in every way. There were a few things I should have noticed. Like the fact Tucker wears his hair spiky in the front, and Trent keeps his short, sweeping over his forehead. Tucker’s voice is slightly deeper, with a little more of a pitch that always sends shivers down my spine.
But which one do I like?
Which one has crept into my heart?
I feel betrayed. I feel used. I have no idea how to feel. Because I’m so confused. I can’t trust them or myself, and I don’t trust myself around them.
My anger seethes through me as I powerwalk through campus, desperate to keep my tears at bay. A few people stare at me, and I do my best to avoid their gazes. I wipe away the dark makeup running down my cheeks, attempting to keep my shit together, when I want nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out. I like Trent… or was it Tucker? Is it possible to like them both?
Pain stabs my heart, driving a knife into my chest that hurts more with each second that passes. My breathing becomes more rapid, unstable, as I walk into Penn Hall and climb the stairs to my dorm room. By the time I reach the landing, I hunch forward to suck in some air, my head spinning from the anxiety shooting through my body.
How could I be so stupid?
Why did I fall for their tricks?
Their reactions seemed sincere, as if they had no idea they were both with me until today. But can I trust their word? I don’t even trust myself right now. I should have noticed the slight differences between them. Now that I know they’re twins, I can see the subtle ways each of them lured me in.
Tucker is goofy, always relaxed and in control, where Trent is more reserved and focused, clearly the more responsible twin. When I’m with Trent, I feel safe, and my guard slowly lowers around him. I try to wrap my head around each interaction with them, committing each time to memory.
My feelings for Trent and Tucker are stronger than ever now that I’ve been with each of them. But I thought they were one person. One guy I was beginning to feel myself investing real feelings into. And now I almost hate them, even though I know that’s not true. I want to hate them, would love to put them in my past and move on.
I push my way down the hallway and into my dorm room, thankful my roommate isn’t around to ask questions. Slamming the door behind me, my tears now fall from my eyes, soaking my shirt. I sink to the mattress and roll onto my side, my emotions flooding through me like a dam breaking.
My cell phone rings, and I sob even louder when I see Trent’s name on the Caller ID. A picture of us from the party this weekend displays on the screen. His handsome face is covered with streaks of white and black makeup from his zombie costume, the smirk I’ve come to adore tugging at his mouth. No matter how much I want to confront him, I hit ignore and drop the phone to the mattress.
