Page 23 of The Romantic Agenda
“There are two of you?” Fox asks abruptly.
Joy narrows her eyes in response. “That had a tone,” she says, and then gives him a teasing smile.
“They’re not identical,” Malcolm says. “Grace is the evil twin.”
“No, she’s not. Anyways, we’re like the Olsen twins. You know them, right? Fraternal—but we look similar enough to be identical.” Joy holds a hand under her chin. “Grace swears her face is like five percent more symmetrical than mine or whatever”—she rolls her eyes—“and she has a mole above her left eyebrow.”
Malcolm adds, “You can also tell them apart because Grace is a little bit taller and they sound different. Joy’s voice is higher.”
“So.” Fox continues only focusing on Joy. “There are two of you.”
“Does that bother you?”
He doesn’t get a chance to answer because Summer decides to give him another patch of gray hair when she asks, “Can I drive!?” and positions herself behind the wheel.
“No,” Fox says sternly.
Malcolm glares at him before answering, “Once we’re out on the lake in open water, sure.” He gently maneuvers her to the side.
Summer begins asking him rapid-fire questions like when he got his license, has he ever been on a sailboat, and if he would ever get one, becausesheloves sailboats. Malcolm answers each question patiently, always with a smile, as he drives them farther away from the dock.
Joy isn’t exactly upset that Summer has become Malcolm’s radiant center of attention. Seeing him happy really does make her happy. When Summer looks at him, it’s warm and precious. It brings out his wide grin and crinkling eye-smile. He teaches her how to drive the boat by being attentive and not overbearing. Some of his best traits on full display for everyone to see—everything she sees in him all the time. The things she never loses sight of, that are there even when they fight, even when he’s being impossible. All the things she loves about him so much it makes her cry sometimes because she can’t understandwhy?
Joy has always struggled with expressing the feeling of wanting something someone else has. The only concept she’s ever heard of that comes close is jealousy or envy. If someone is on the brink of having something you want, of course it’s jealousy, right?
But it isn’t. The feeling doesn’t eat her alive or try to consume her or twist her insides until they turn green. It can’t be.
If Summer is who Malcolm wants, then good for him. Good for them. When she confesses, if that’s his answer, then she’ll quietly step aside. But until that moment, she’s stuck, unable to understand why not her? What’s wrong with her? It hurts, this unrelenting longing wrapped in unconditional love. Tender and excruciating all at once.
Joy forces herself to tear her gaze away from them—and meets Fox’s eyes. Startled, she says, “Hi,” because that’s the first thing that pops into her brain.
“Hi.”
Has he been watching her? If he feels guilty about being caught again, he doesn’t show it, continuing to maintain eye contact from the other side of the boat. He’s also wearing a bright orange life jacket now.
“Lovely weather we’re having.”
“Sure.”
Joy’s never met a person she couldn’t initially dazzle. She’s too quick, too flirty, too aware—most people never stand a chance. Fox might drive her into overtime, though. His stoic grumpiness isn’t exactly Mount Everest since he’s shown enough interest toplay off, but it won’t take her much further if she can’t find the right angle.
Her online popularity clearly spooked him, and he also had a weird reaction to her being a twin, so she needs to hook him with something he would consider normal—relatable yet intriguing. He wants to know more. She can feel it.
Whatever preconceptions Malcolm unintentionally planted about her must have been shaken once he met her. The same thing was true for her, wasn’t it? All she knew was that Malcolm claimed Fox hated him, but she hasn’t been able to figure outwhy. She hasn’t even seen anything that could lead to an explanation for it. He seems grumpy by nature, and it’s pointed in all general directions, not specifically at Malcolm.
“You’re into all this outdoorsy stuff too, I’m assuming.”
“No.”
Joy crosses her leg at the knee and leans toward him, resting her arms on her thighs. She watches him carefully as she asks, “Do you hate Malcolm?”
The right side of his mouthtwitches. “No.”
One-word answers. He’s testing her.
“I see you,” she says in a singsong voice.
When he lifts that eyebrow again, she knows she’s right.
