Page 2 of Deranged Imposter

That was when I met his twin brother as well. Zico is a sore topic, so we avoid talking about him.

Mikah forgave me when I shoved a half-eaten cookie into his mouth and threatened to tell his mom, who banned sweets before dinner.

Since then, he’s made it his mission to brand me as his partner in crime when he got in trouble. We were a strange trio, and all the snobby adults mentioned it through backhanded comments.

Mikah and Zico were heirs to one of the wealthiest and most esteemed rare disease research facilities. His father owned the company and was a renowned geneticist; he’d say one thing, and nothing else mattered anymore.

On the other hand, I was in a lower socio-economic class. Before my parents got the job, there were days I stole food from stores because the paychecks went toward debts. I stole enough times to learn I had to defend myself from shop owners and run with the speed of an ostrich.

So, that’s why I punched him. It was reflex, but Mikah wrestled with me like I was the final boss in his video games.

“See, I know we’re a good fit,” the woman says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Even you had to think about it. I know you haven’t heard the names before, but I’ll be inheriting all of my father’s establishments.”

This lady is not making sense anymore.

It’s six in the afternoon, the sun is still bright as ever, and I’m exhausted from the travel back home. The last thing I care about is some woman, whatever her name is, stopping me from diving into the shower.

“Look, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I grumble and click my tongue. “Mikah hates reading and breaks out in hives when he gets love letters.”

“Mine are different. I infused them with my affection for him.”

How do these people get into one of the most prestigious private universities? Probably the same way I did. Money and status; mine comes from the Masini’s generosity. But it doesn’t take a genius to know Mr. Masini got me into this college to keep tabs on his son.

“If he burns them and hates you…” I say dryly, stitching on a plain smile.

“It’s a risk I’ll take,” she barks, squaring her shoulders. “I win either way. He’s going to remember me.”

I lament internally and adjust the heavy folder with her confession letters. I really don’t want to give this folder to Mikah and be subjected to his utterly unimpressed look, criticizing me for being a pushover when they arehisadmirers.

“You can find him in the law building,” I try again and push the folder back to her.

She rams it back with anger flaming on her tongue. “Do this for me. We’recomradesgoing to the same university, and good people help out others.”

Arguing with her is akin to appealing logic to a wall, so I just lug the folder under my arm and nod drearily. Mikah will throw it away without looking at it, and it wouldn’t hurt my conscience because I did my part as the messenger.

“I’ll be expecting his answer,” the woman chirps, beaming happier than the infuriating sun. “I will only accept 'yes' from him.”

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Move along, lady. I’m getting sick of smelling her dense perfume, and she can’t accuse me of assault when I throw up the energy drink I had earlier all over her chest. She triggered my acid reflux.

I walk around her when her mouth opens, no doubt wanting to get more conditions in. I know it’s rude to walk away from an unfinished conversation, but she has taken too much of my precious time.

My bed misses me.

I slide my key card to open the dorm’s door and make a beeline for the elevator. There are too many people, and my sore feet decide to fly up the flights of stairs. Three floors is a piece of cake.

I barge into my room, thanking the silence that welcomes me. The folder clatters to the ground when I trip over messily placed shoes.

Rubbing my aching knees, I glower and squint at the shoes.

They aren’t mine. I don’t wear size 11.5 men’s dress shoes.

“It was great while it lasted,” I mumble as I shrug off my backpack.

I hobble on the least painful leg and drop the folder onto the dining table. I'd make a bigger deal about someone other than my roommate being in my dorm unit, but I'm hungry and tired. Not only does my group have to go back to Arkansas’s Ozark National Forest for the final observation of nature, but we must also start planning immediately.

Everyone has a schedule of inconvenience.

We would’ve gotten the next trip locked down if people weren’t chatting about the latest frat party and sharing raunchy stories at the cabin.

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