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“Love you!” Aurora singsongs.
“Love you more.” Cedar returns and the line goes dead.
6
REX
The ghost of her lips on mine, her hands in my hair, and on my chest still lingers. The spots tingle like she’s still there, but colder now that she’s not. Despite that, it’s been hours since I left her in the studio with G and all I’ve gotten since is a few text messages.
I’ve already tried to call him for answers, but in true Genevie fashion, he won’t divulge shit.
Mysterious bastard.
I gotta respect the client privacy, though. He does the same for me.
My twin pulls for my attention more than I’d like to admit as he takes up the entire length of the couch with his bullshit and stank ass feet. As I suspected, he was here when I got home, raiding the fully stocked fridge like he lives here and flicking through streaming services I pay for on my television.
Can’t exactly invite Aria over if his ass won’t leave simply because I know she wouldn’t be down to have company like that. She doesn’t seem like the type to put on a show for anyone else. Especially not someone like my fucking rowdy ass twin.
And being a fucking famous person means being in public brings too many sets of eyes and cameras. There’s just too much risk of her finding out about who I am if she meets him.
So I’ve resulted to true childish behavior by sitting at the bar off the kitchen counter and pelting ice cubes at his head from the bucket I have next to me.
“Ow,you fucking turdscicle!” I laugh as I watch the cube bounce from his noggin to the floor and skid into a corner somewhere for me to find with my socks later.
“Know where no one throws ice at you?” I grab another, my palm freezing with the melting ice, my fingers long ago numb.
“In Hell because it’s too hot to have ice.” He brushes off the drops of water left behind by my assault just in time for me to wail him with another. “You fucking heathen!”
“Get out of my house!” I shout, throwing another. This one he retrieves and tosses back in my direction without leaving the couch. I dodge the projectile as my phone vibrates along the counter.
“Never!”
Aria: You’re doing what now?
Me: Throwing literal ice cubes at his head.
Me: He still won’t leave.
She returns with a laughing emoji that has me grinning like a fool and not paying enough attention to my surroundings. I hear the cascade of falling ice before I feel it and shoot to my feet with boiling rage at my sibling. The bucket I had stashed next to me now empty, its contents scattered down my body, in my hair, and along my floor.
For the second time tonight, I send a message with numb fingers, asking for a moment to deal with my twin. The last time taking me way too long to return to her.
“Macaroni, you fart knuckle!” I pocket my phone as I lunge at him.
“Don’t call me that!” He takes off, sliding along the wet floor and only barely skidding around the corner without eating tile.
I chase him again. Sidestepping the slippery spots and clearing the distance quicker than he expected.
“Oh, shit.” He laughs, skirting around the pool table in the game hall instead of over it like I do. I hook him with an arm around his big head as my feet hit the floor, pulling him to a stop and tucking him into my side.
Two, three jabs to my ribs in a feeble attempt to break loose, but my grip is solid around his forehead.
Noogie time.
I viciously rub my knuckles over the top of my twin’s head, mussing up his treasured hair and loosening the bandana he wears like a headband all the fucking time. It’s purple today and I watch as it flops to the floor while he grunts and squirms against my assault.
“You asshat!” He wraps his arms around my sweatpant-clad thigh, and yanks until I’m off balance and we’re on the ground.
