Page 41 of The Torment of Two

Oh my God.

I don’t have time to be annoyed. The last thing I want to do is drive myself to Hemingford Hall. I rush into the bathroom, brush my teeth and then my hair before pulling my long locks into a messy bun.

There’s no time for makeup.

What if one of my followers sees me?

Panic starts to set in as I contemplate grabbing my makeup bag to put it on in the car, but then Two’s blasting my phone again.

Two: Come on, Golden!

Two: Sixty seconds…fifty-nine…fifty-eight…

“Asshole,” I hiss, storming out of the bathroom. I snatch up my backpack and purse, nearly crashing into Mom as I exit my room.

“Whoa, sweetie,” Mom says with a chuckle. “Where are you headed off to in such a hurry? Coffee date with Tate?”

“Uh, no, sorry. Off to work on my project with my partner.”

She opens her mouth, ready to ask more questions, but I quickly kiss her cheek and rush down the stairs.

“Be careful! Let us meet this girl soon!”

Girl?

Oh crap. They’ll probably freak once they learn I’ve been running around with a guy. I’ll save that drama for another day.

Dad is in his office when I pass, but thankfully, he’s on the phone. I blow him a kiss and then run out the front door in a frenzy.

And, as promised, Two is already halfway down the road.

He freaking left me!

“Hey!” I holler, chasing after his stupid junk mobile. “It hasn’t been sixty seconds, asshole!”

He hits the brakes and waits for me to catch up. By the time I climb into his vehicle, I’m sweaty and pissed off.

“Rude!” I shriek, damn near on the verge of tears from frustration. “You can’t do that to me!”

Emotion clogs my throat and I feel like I’m going to cry. Over a stupid boy! But it’s not just him. It’s everything. School, my family, work. I’ve just got a lot on my plate and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. The last thing I need is Two adding more stress. My bottom lip wobbles and I bite on it.

“You like butterscotch coffee?” Two asks in greeting. “Hope so.”

I stare at the coffee in the cupholder from my favorite place. Rather than yelling at him more or crying, I pick the coffee up and sip it. It’s sweet and delightful. “Thank you.”

He gasses his car and we barrel down the road. “Sorry for being a dick last night. Is that why you’re about to cry?”

Last night, he did hurt my feelings. However, it wasn’t out of character for him. Dempsey and Spencer showed up right after he walked away, so it was a good distraction.

“I’m not about to cry,” I grumble, though the tremor in my voice says otherwise.

“Liar.”

Anger flares in my chest, chasing away the hysteria. I sip on my coffee and peek over at Two. Today he’s dressed casually like me in a PMU hoodie and jeans. Except instead of a messy bun, he’s wearing a worn ball cap to cover his chaotic hair.

“We’re twins,” I say with a snort. “Of course we are.”

He bristles and ignores the statement. Whatever. I’ll be able to handle his surly ass a lot better after coffee. By the time we make it to Hemingford Hall, my coffee has done its job and I’ve devoured two chocolate-glazed donuts.

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