Page 61 of How to Lose at Love

“I can’t?” He chews. “Why?”

“Because it’s…” I flounder. “It’s…wrong.”

“How was it wrong? I was helpin’ a friend.”

Helpin’ a friend.

That twang, tho.

He might have been helping a friend, but when the target of that helping was me? Not cool.

Not okay.

“I don’t think anyone has ever told you to think before you speak.”

“Sure they have.” He nods. “Plenty of people.”

He’s such a liar. I have a feeling he got away with murder growing up.

“Nameoneperson who has told you to think before you speak.”

Dallas twists his face up as he comes up with an answer. “My nanna.”

“I don’t believe you.”

This guy is unbelievable.

To busy myself, I hoist myself up so I’m sitting on the counter.

I glance around, checking the place out.

The kitchen is tidy too. Only one dish in the sink, a bowl and a spoon. Toaster on the counter but no crumbs. Coffee pot.

The appliances are outdated and yellow, a shade that was popular fifty years ago and never since, but they obviously work and don’t need replacing. Besides, college guys don’t give a crap about the color of the stove and dishwasher the same way a girl might.

Suddenly, one of the brothers waltzes in—I think it’s the same one I was introduced to before ’cause he’s wearing the same shirt, but didn’t he say he’s a twin?

“What are you two doing?” He roots around in the basket on top of the fridge. Plucks a bag of chips out and tears it open, popping one into his mouth.

“Dallas was hungry.”

He nods. “Y’all mind if I have company?”

Dallas’s fork stops halfway to his mouth. “What kind of company?”

“Girls next door.”

Dallas groans. “Yes, I mind.” Sets the container of pasta down. “I mind a lot. I want to get to sleep early. Wasn’t plannin’ on listenin’ to them fake laughin’ at your dipshit jokes all night.”

“Neighbor girls?”

He puts the top back on the tortellini. “Yes, neighbor girls. They’re like flies on shit, always buzzin’ around.”

“Well, it’s not like the two of you are going to entertain me. And besides, they’re right next door—I don’t even have to give them a ride over.”

How convenient.

Drake studies me.

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