Page 67 of How to Win the Girl

I thought he told me everything.

“Nope—we’re good. I’m not into the matchy-matchy thing.” Our mom tried to get us to match when we were younger because obviously we’re twins, and she thought it was fucking cute, but we always found a way to look different.

Why the hell would this woman I’ve never met think I’d want to be her twin when I already have one at home?

Jeez.

Karris looks deflated. “Oh. Okay.” She lets out a puff of air. “You don’t want to come sit?”

“No, thanks.”

Her smile falls.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel like a dickhead for standing at the door, not a foot more.

“Do you want a cookie?”

Also no. “I just ate.”

“But I saved it for you.”

Saved it for me, specifically?

I’m terrified to ask what that means.

“My aunt makes these cookies for me every year on my birthday—her secret recipe. She only sends me twenty-four. As luck would have it, I have one left, and I want you to have it. Since they’re your favorite.”

“Right.” Drew’s favorite.

“Won’t you take a bite?”

She really is pushing this cookie on me.

I take a few steps forward, reaching down to the plate and pluck the cookie up, palming it in my right hand. It’s massive, honestly, but feels a bit dry?

“Do you have a bathroom I can use?”

Karris smiles. “Sure. It’s that second room on the right.”

“Gotcha.” I wink, taking long strides to the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind me, cookie still in my hand.

The white shower curtain matches the white curtain that’s blowing in the breeze over the window, like a flowing bridal veil.

As I’m taking a piss, I survey the window and its height off the ground; its width.

No screen.

No screen? Doesn’t seem safe, but whatever—not my business.

“Don’t go out the window,” I say out loud. “Don’t be that guy.”

But I am that guy.

Drew might not be the type of dude that ghosts a chick by dropping out her bathroom window, but I fucking am. As soon as I zip my fly, I’m thrusting the windowpane as high as it can go and sticking my leg through, guesstimating how high off the ground I’ll be when I drop down.

A few feet maybe?

“Wait. You climbed out the window?”

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