Page 98 of The Twins

Vegas

SAN RICARDO - AFTER GREY’S ARRIVAL

Amira…Excuse me, Grey. That’s her new name, how she introduced herself to us.

Her hair is a succulent chestnut color, not yet the shade she had on her teenage pictures. She made sure to have her hair dyed upon her arrival. Her nails are cut, and she doesn’t bite her cuticles. She has a different obsession, one that I never noticed before.

Her middle finger and her ring finger connect with the delicate skin of the inside of her elbows, crashing down to make her bleed. She gets fixated on that pain, and she doesn’t easily get distracted.

As we sit in a café that I never even knew existed, she keeps her hands on the coffee cup. It’s a cold brew with a shot of caramel and tons of whipped cream on top.

Grey forced me to take a cab into the town. We’re having a coffee outside of the house. It’s a date in my eyes. I dressed up, too. I cleaned up nice as much as it hurt to move my limbs in the shower.

But it isn’t a date. My brother’s out to meet his therapist, and Grey thought it would be a good idea for me to get out of the house now that I can. Remo will pick us up when he’s done.

The bullet wound twinges, oozing with discomfort for my body.

I pay no attention to that when she’s in my presence.

Now that she’s here, I can’t take my eyes away from her. She’s so pretty I could cry, and fuck, I want to cry, but with me being a bed-ridden patient, I have zero privacy. Ever since I got shot on the job, I’ve been bottling my feelings up, and I won’t be able to survive much longer.

I’ll collapse.

“You want to have sex with me, don’t you?” Grey asks, taking a sip from her coffee. It physically pains me that the one person I ever developed feelings for thinks I want her for her body only.

“I’d be a fool not to,” I reply. I arch my back, the aching tormenting me some more. Why did I ever catch a bullet for Tara? Right. I’m playing a role here, and that role’s all about my playful fuckboy nature.

I don’t catch feelings.

“Of course. That’s all you want me for,” Grey responds, gritting her teeth. She looks away from me, taking hasty breaths. “That’s all I’m worth.”

“I never said that,” I clarify. I can’t defend myself because if I open my mouth and let it all pour out, her heart’s going to break at my foolish actions.

I played with fire to get her here.

“Why do you call me sugar puff? What’s the point if you just want to fuck me?” Grey asks, picking up the spoon by her coffee cup. She feasts on the whipped cream at the bottom of the cup. She finished her drink before I could even begin mine.

I wave at the waitress, and she hops by our table. It’s a self-service spot, but I used to fuck this girl in high school. There are no hard feelings there. She knows I got shot on the job, so she takes good care of sugar puff and me.

I order another drink for Grey, and she narrows her eyes, scrutinizing my gesture. People do that in movies, right? Buy their girl drinks?

I never dated before, so I wouldn’t know.

Grey’s second drink arrives, but she leaves it untouched. “That was kind of hot. Have you slept with that girl? She seemed very comfortable around you.”

“Indeed, I have,” I reveal, and Grey flinches. I attempt not to over-interpret her reaction or the fact that she finds my behavior hot. In my head, she’s jealous. Why would she be? I’m nobody to her. She fancies my older brother, the mature one.

The guy who’s so in love with this woman that his depression and PTSD have suddenly cured themselves because of her presence in our lives.

I clear my throat, leaning forward on my chair. I should move less in my condition because each tiny movement tugs at my insides. But I don’t.

I want Grey to hear this loud and clear. “When I walked in on you and my brother sleeping that first morning you ever stayed over at our place, your eyes were puffy. I imagined what it would be like to kiss you and make it better. I imagined you’d taste like sugar.”

“You never kiss me,” she complains, her shoulders slumping.

My heart pounds heavily, desperate for her to make a move. Why should she? For all she knows, I’m a dickhead with only one thing in mind. Sex. “You want me to?”

“Not yet.” I stiffen. Of course. “But one day?”

She needs time. Maybe one day, she’ll be ready for more with me. I sure know that I need time to show her how much she means to me. “Whenever you’re ready, sugar puff. I’m here.”

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