Page 15 of The Consequence of Loving Me

For some reason, his words make my stomach roll. I’m not sure why I feel those words all the way down to my core, but I do—and I have to get us to a new topic. I know I’m not jealous that he loves her.

I think I’m just slightly jealous that she’s somebody worthy of love.

“So, tell me about this twin sister of yours,” I say, successfully changing the subject.

He laughs, releasing a long sigh.

I sit there, continuing my task of hanging clothes, as his eyes rest on me. I can feel them examining my face, and I definitely feel them as they make their way down. They finally stop to rest on my hands as I work to hang the sweater.

“My twin sister is the complete opposite of me,” he says. “I like to be a wallflower, take in my surroundings. She likes the attention to be fully on her. Where I’m calm, she is every bit of wild.”

It’s my turn now to stare at his hands. Since the sleeves of his hoodie are still rolled up, the muscles in his arm feather as he hangs one article of clothing after the other. I can’t remember the last time I spoke to a man who wanted nothing from me. My body, my passion, my desire.

“I like her already.” A smile breaks on my face, one that is genuine.

Maverick shakes his head, a smile forming on his face as well. “You two will be a match made in heaven. Or maybe it’s hell. I’m actually kind of worried for the rest of us when the two of you strike up a friendship.”

The sound of the heater turns off once again, leaving it almost completely silent in the room. Occasionally, there’s the sound of a hanger bumping against another, but other than that, it’s so quiet.

My mind wanders to the few friends I have. After thinking for a moment, I realize I don’t really have any friends anymore. At one point in my life, I had many. Everyone wanted to be my friend. At least that’s how it felt. But that time is in the past, and now I’d rather be without them. Without friends. Without anyone close.

Or so I thought. The more I get to know Maverick, and the more I hear about his twin, the more I realize I might like to be friends with the Morrison twins.

I’m content in the silence, lost in my own thoughts, but the tenor of Maverick’s voice calls me back to where we are.

“My parents always say that when we were little, they were completely convinced one of us was switched at birth because we were so opposite,” he says. “I never cried, and according to them, I essentially raised myself, whereas Lily needed supervision at all times. She constantly wanted to be held and would scream all night until someone picked her up. Lily still has that set of lungs on her, too. You should hear her when she and Aspen get in their classic arguments. I’m convinced people can hear them all the way on campus when they really get going.”

The pile of clothes ready to hang has grown so big I’m afraid if we set anything else on top of it, it will go toppling down. I crawl off the bed and start to arrange the clothes in my hand so I can hang them in the closet.

“Why do they yell at each other?” I ask from inside my closet.

“Because they’re basically the same person in two different bodies who happen to be attracted to each other.”

I jump when Maverick’s voice comes from the doorway. I was so distracted hanging my clothes in the appropriate spots that I didn’t realize he’d gotten off the bed. Now, he’s holding the rest of my clothes for me to hang.

“Wait a minute. Aspen has a thing for your sister?” I gawk. “And she has a thing for him?” I take the next piece of clothing from his hands and hang it with the rest of my T-shirts.

He laughs. “Well, yes and no. Neither one of them will admit it, but anyone in the same state as them can feel the chemistry burning. I’m not sure either one of them will do anything about it, though. They’re both too content with hating each other to realize they like each other.”

My mind turns this new information around. I have a feeling I’d like Lily based on Maverick’s description of her, but I find it ludicrous she could be attracted to somebody like Aspen. To each their own, I guess.

As I take the last few pieces of clothing from Maverick’s hand, his phone vibrates from the pocket of his sweatshirt.

He pulls it out, his eyebrows pulling together as he reads whatever’s on the screen. He shoves it back into his pocket and looks at me. “I’ve got to take this.”

I nod. We both stand across from each other awkwardly. “I’ll see you later, Maverick.”

He quietly mumbles a goodbye and leaves the room.

As his footsteps sound over my head, I finish hanging the rest of my clothes. It sounds like he’s pacing up there, but I can’t be sure. All I know is he continues to walk around for twenty more minutes as I finish unpacking for the night.

Finally, a door slams, letting me know he left.

Now, alone in the house—and alone in my head—my mind wanders to times I have no business reminiscing on.

8

Veronica

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