Page 32 of The Torment of Two

“Good girl,” I say, patting the cracked leather on the dash. “You purr like a kitten.”

The heater doesn’t work great in my car, but I don’t need it. My military jacket keeps me warm. As I drive, my thoughts drift back to yesterday when Gemma told me she was a Type Three.

I did a deep dive last night, digging into everything that went into a Type Three Enneagram personality. Basically, they’re obsessed with success, accomplishments, and their self-image. From what I know of Gemma, it seems spot-on.

I’ll see Tate again tomorrow between classes. This time, I’m going to get his cell number. I have tons of questions about this shit that I think he can answer.

My phone GPS barks at me and I turn down the road that leads to Gemma’s house. It’s the biggest and fanciest one on the street. Her black weapon of a Tahoe sits in the driveway. My shoulder now sports a big-ass bruise thanks to her.

Rather than going up to the door, I lay on the horn. Seconds later, she rushes out of the house, glaring at me.

I don’t acknowledge her irritation, choosing to fiddle with the radio instead. There’s a local station that plays rock from the fifties that I really like. Settling on that station, I wait for Gemma to climb in.

The door squeaks in protest when she opens it. Some trash I forgot to take out gets whipped out and tossed into her yard. Whoops. They’re paper napkins. Biodegradable. The earth will be fine.

“Drive,” Gemma huffs, slamming the door once she’s inside. “Otherwise, Dad will come out here and give you the third degree.”

I’m not about to talk to her parents, so I put the Rover in reverse and cruise back down her road to the main one.

“Your car is a mess,” she says, shoving one of my filthy boots out of the way with her pristine black one. “How can you deal with this?”

“It’s not that messy.”

“Two, you littered my yard when I opened my door. It’s a dumpster.”

“Tristan.”

“Here we go.” She sighs heavily. “I’d rather not go into all this with you today. Can we call some sort of truce? I had a bad day yesterday and I’m on edge.”

This intrigues me. “Why? Because of me?”

She smirks at me. “You wish.”

Kind of. It’s satisfying to know I get under her skin as much as she gets under mine.

“I went to Hemingford Hall by myself,” she says softly, looking out her window. “The guy was weird. Made me feel uncomfortable.”

At least I know why she wanted to go together this time.

“Most people aren’t happy when you show up unannounced at their place of residence.”

“I know.” She glances back over at me. “That wasn’t even the bad part.”

I wait for her to elaborate. “Just spit it out already, woman.”

“Someone followed me there. They left me a flower and a note.”

“I’m sure it was your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” She shakes her head. “I do not have a boyfriend.”

“You just grope dudes in parking lots for fun then?”

“What are you—oh. That was my twin brother, you idiot. Gross.”

Twin brother.

Would he have been living in my room too had Jamie not changed her mind?

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