Page 30 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

I keep imagining it so vividly, him showing up to meet me for a run or me showing up to meet him at a coffee shop and he takes one look at me and goes, “Dude, did you kiss my sister?” and before I know it he’s on top of me, wailing on me.

I’d have to give it to him, too, I know. Just lay down and let him have at me because who kisses their best friend’s sister, anyway?

He’d probably yell “She’s ten years younger than you are, you freak!” and then everyone around us would gasp, and it would turn ugly.

That’s probably the worst case scenario, but it likely wouldn’t getmuchbetter than that.

I'm at the grocery store, mindlessly scanning the shelves for something to make for dinner.

I reach out for a tube of anchovy paste to make a Caesar salad when I see her. Julie. Or I think I see her.

I try to dodge quickly to get a better look, but when I turn around, I smash directly into someone’s cart and tip it over a little before they can right it back onto the wheels.

The older woman steering the cart cries out, “Excuse me!” as though I tripped on purpose, and I drop the anchovy paste on the linoleum tile.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I rest my forehead in my hand for a moment, steadying my breathing.

The woman continues to squawk at me, saying “Excuse me? Are you going to pick that up?” and other variations of the same question while I attempt to regulate my heart beat and a sweat bursts open on my palms.

“Chris?”

Oh, yeah. It’s definitely Julie.

I sigh, lift my face up from my hands, and look at her. Our eyes meet, and she smiles unsurely, lifting her fingers to wave.

Chapter Thirteen

Hannah

As I step into CHOICE Fitness, I can’t shake the feeling of unease that has been gnawing at me for days.

I hold my breath as I look up at the employees manning the front desk. No Chris. Thank God. The last thing I need right now is for Chris to be here, and the whole plan to be ruined.

I sign the guest waiver and pay my $10 before making my way onto the gym floor. The unfamiliar scent of sweat and rubber greets me as I make my way through the crowded space, my eyes scanning the rows of exercise machines and weight racks in search of Tyler.

I spot him near the back of the gym, his shock of auburn hair standing out in the sea of sweaty bodies. With a sense of relief,I quicken my pace to join him, eager to discuss the troubling suspicions that have been weighing heavily on my mind.

“Hey! Tyler,” I greet him with a too-excited voice.

But I’m anxious, and I feel out of place in the gym, used to getting my workout from running with Lucy at dog parks and swimming at the beach.

Los Angeles has a million gyms and yet somehow also feels like a place that doesn’t really need them, as there are so many ways to exercise naturally outdoors.

Tyler quirks an eyebrow in my direction as he sits on some torture device, kicking his legs up and down while weights lift high in the air as he does.

“What are you wearing?”

I look down at my outfit, a brown two-piece outfit consisting of a sports bra and booty shorts that the lady at the store assured me were perfect for working out at a gym. “You don’t like it?”

“You look like you’re starring in a porn movie made in a gym,” he tells me. “But sure.”

“You watch a lot of those, huh, Sargeant Lonely Heart?” I flick his knee bone, hoping to mess him up, but he doesn’t falter at all.

“It’s Sargeant Pepper. He has the Lonely Hearts club,” he tells me, as he breathes heavily while pumping his legs.

His hair sticks to his forehead, the ends brownish from the sweat.

“I can’t believe you corrected me on such a stupid thing,” I tell him, sitting on a machine next to him and reading the little sticker tutorial.

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