Page 12 of A Stealthy Situation

I dump my bag. “Not much to tell. He’s hot, flirty, and we had a mini lunch date. I’ve invited him to a frat party this weekend.” I don’t want to give Em too many other details—like Harrison’s red hair is a dead giveaway—because Em’s always been great at sticking to our rule about not talking to people in class. I’m the one who struggled to keep my distance. And if he goes around looking out for Harrison in class, Harrison will definitely spot him and zone in.

Em perks up. “You’re having a party?”

“We are now.”

Whenever our house has a party, it’s the one time we can get sloppy about being in the same place. With a full house and everyone too drunk to see straight, someone bumping into one of us in one room and then seeing the other in the next room is easy to pass off as alcohol. If they even remember it the next morning.

“Did you get out today?” I ask him.

Emmett shakes his head. “Felt too shitty.”

“Well, once you’re better, make sure you do. You can’t just live in here all day, every day.”

“Okay, West.”

I grunt, hating when he acts like my being worried about him is the same as our eldest brother fathering us. “Fine. Live in here all day. Become a mole man for all I care.”

“It’s sweet when you don’t care.”

“You’re so annoying. You’re also killing my chances of hooking up. I can’t bring guys back to my room and be all ‘don’t worry about the other me in the corner, he’s not watching,’ can I?”

“I dunno. Some people like that. Twins.”

We both pull an identical face. While I share literally everything with Em, neither of us wants to share a hookup, and because we’ve had the offer many, many, many times is yet another reason we wanted our own lives out here.

Emmett snatches up his painkillers and tosses them to me. “I can’t remember what it says, and my head hurts. If I took some at two, can I have more yet?”

I read the bottle and toss it back. “Every four to six hours. So, if you took it at two … and it’s five now …”

“Another hour.”

“Damn.”

“Wanna get me some water?”

“Can do. I’m going to let some of the guys know about the party, and I’ll be back, okay?”

He manages a pitying smile. “You don’t need to babysit me. I’m sick, not dying.”

I don’t even like him joking about that. My morbid sense of humor over my parents’ deaths only stretches so far, and when I try to imagine life without Em, I go cold all over.

We’ve always talked about what life will be like when we’re older. We’ll graduate, get our own careers, our own partners, and live within walking distance of each other. We’d be happy to live in the same house, but that’s not for everyone, and we can’t expect our partners to feel the same.

I might joke about Emmett cramping my love life, but if he needs me, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Most people might find living in a tiny bedroom with someone else stifling, but it makes no difference to us. I figure we were smooshed together so much in the womb we came out mentally resigned to be that way our whole lives.

I reach the kitchen to grab Emmett’s water and find two of my frat brothers at the kitchen island.

“Sandman.” I greet the guy who pledged with me and has had the stupid nickname ever since. For the pledge party he threw, he thought he’d make it Hawaiian themed, only instead of filling the backyard with sand, he covered the house in it instead.

I swear I still find grains randomly around the house.

“Hey, Dalton. Just talking about weekend plans.”

“What plans? We’re having a party.”

“We are?” He nods. “Cool.”

“Theme?” Big Wally asks.

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