Falling for my Ex’s Twin (Falling For You #2)

Chapter 1

JIMMY

Friday is the highlight of my week. I get to dance the night away and find someone sexy to go home with.

I’m here with my friends from the best club on campus: Barbell Society.

Well, I’m here with most of my friends. Angus, the slacker, isn't here yet. It’s true he has the furthest distance to travel.

He’s the only one of us who doesn’t live within walking distance of the city centre.

Instead, he lives on his dad’s farm, several miles away.

Which means he always drives and never drinks.

He’d better get here soon. I need someone to be my wingman.

“Angus is here!” Steph’s voice cuts through the loud, throbbing music. “Who’ve you brought with you?”

Oh, yeah, Angus did say he was bringing someone along tonight.

I turn around, grinning, ready to welcome Angus’ friend to our group.

Angus is gesturing to a guy who’s all too familiar to me. “This is—”

“Flynn?” I’m not grinning anymore.

Flynn steps back, clear blue eyes wide. “Jimmy?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” And why is he looking so damned gorgeous? He has no business looking so pretty.

“I—” Flynn falters.

“He’s working on my farm.” Angus looks between us. “How do you know each other?”

I fold my arms in a pissed off gesture. “Flynn is my brother’s ex-husband. My twin brother’s ex.”

“I think I’ll get a drink after all.” Flynn darts away, heading towards the bar.

I need a drink, too. Flynn was the last person I expected to see here. Leeds is my city, not his.

“Okay. That was awkward,” Steph says. “I take it you two have history?”

“Yeah, I just told you he’s—”

She covers my mouth with her hand. “It looked like a lot more than that. I couldn’t decide if you wanted to murder him or fuck him.”

“Definitely not the latter.” Not anymore. “I wouldn’t want my brother’s sloppy seconds.”

Angus frowns. “I didn’t even know you had a twin.”

I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned Billy before. I might not have specified that we were twins. Fuck Billy. Fuck Flynn and fuck this conversation. “I need a drink.”

I stomp towards the opposite end of the bar from where Flynn is sitting, find a vacant stool, and wave to the bartender. When it’s my turn, I order a shot of vodka. A glance down the bar tells me Flynn is on shots, too. Copycat. I ignore the fact he got his drink first.

Angus sits beside me. I down the shot of vodka. It warms the back of my tongue and slides down smoothly. The aftertaste hits, making me grimace. I order another.

“You know vodka is depression juice, right?” Angus asks.

“Don’t care.” I down the second shot and ask for a glass of red wine. Mixing drinks is the fastest way to get drunk and fuck, do I want to get drunk.

“Are you okay?” Angus asks.

No. My mood has soured, thanks to Flynn. “Fine.”

I can’t help but glance down the bar at Flynn with his fluffy, brown hair and piercing blue eyes that used to make me swoon. He looks sinfully handsome in a close-fitting, white T-shirt and an unbuttoned overshirt.

“What’s the deal with you and Flynn?”

First Steph and now Angus. Wasn’t my explanation clear enough? “I told you. He’s my twin’s ex-husband.”

He’s also the one who got away. The first guy I ever had a crush on. The guy who made me realise I was bisexual. The guy my bastard twin knew I fancied, but chased after anyway.

“So, what? They had a messy breakup, and now you hate him? Did he break your brother’s heart?”

I stare into the large glass of red that the bartender put in front of me.

From what I’ve been told, their breakup was quiet and amicable.

The way Mum tells it, they ‘fell out of love’, whatever the fuck that means.

“No.” I sip the wine. It’s cheap and tastes crap.

Sipping it isn’t an option, so I down it in a couple of long gulps.

I gesture to the barman to pour me another.

“He must have done something to get you so het up.”

“Leave it, Angus. I don’t want to talk about it.” I’ll get angry, maybe sad, and then angry all over again.

Angus raises his hands. “Okay. Tell me when you do want to talk. I’ll listen.”

Yes, he will. Angus is a good friend. However, he’s been a little spacey of late.

He hops off the barstool. “I won’t be around for the next two weeks.”

I blink at him. Why am I only just finding this out? “Where are you going?”

“Away for some peace to revise.”

“Can I come?” It would get me out of Flynn’s orbit for two weeks, and I’d get to hang out with my bestie.

Angus smiles apologetically. “Sorry. It’s a one-bedroom cottage.”

“We can top and tail. Or I’ll sleep on the sofa.” Do I sound desperate? I am desperate.

Angus looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up. Is he figuring out how to let me down gently? In his shoes, I wouldn’t want to hang out with me right now, either, let alone spend a whole fortnight trapped together in a tiny cottage. Would it help if I promise to be in a better mood?

“I was hoping for some alone time. It’s been a full-on semester, and I need a break. Don’t be mad.”

I could never be mad at Angus. He’s been my best friend since we started uni. He’s got my back, and I’ve got his. Even so, it’s not like him to want alone time. Either the pressure of our looming exams is really getting to him, or he’s up to something. My brain is too drink-addled to fathom it out.

I sigh. “I’m not mad. Just—bad timing, dude.” I glare at Flynn, who's doing his best to avoid glancing in my direction.

“Maybe you two should talk and sort things out,” Angus says.

“No thanks.”

He pats my shoulder. “Come and dance?”

I appreciate his efforts to drag me out of my grumpy stupor. “I’m fine here.” Throwing mental daggers at the guy who decided my twin was a better catch than me. Me, bitter? Of course not. I should have got over Flynn by now. I’m pathetic.

“Okay. I’ll tell you when I’m heading off if you haven’t come and joined us by then.” Angus waits, as though expecting me to say something.

I don’t.

“I was going to leave early, but if you want, I can stay as long as you need and make sure you get home okay.”

Angus is a good friend, but I don’t want him to ruin his night for me.

“I live ten minutes away.”

“Twenty.”

If I walk briskly. “Whatever. Close. I’ll be fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. You go and do whatever you were going to do, and Angus?”

“Yeah?”

“Have a great time away. Don’t study too hard.” I wish I could go with him.

“I will.”

“Yeah, you will.” I push my bestie away. He deserves to go and have fun.

He leaves, but not to join our friends. Instead, he goes to Flynn.

I get it. Angus must feel responsible for the guy.

He brought him here, after all. Angus has a bleeding-heart personality.

He hates seeing people upset, as demonstrated a few weeks ago, when he tried to be emotionally supportive of one of the university lecturers, who turned up at the bar we were all at, distraught.

I admired Angus for his kind-hearted nature, now I low-key want to throttle him for talking to the guy I need to hate.

I drink my wine and glower at them. What are they saying?

I motion to the bartender and order another vodka.

I’ll regret it tomorrow, but right now I don’t care.

I’m starting to get tingly, and the room is swaying back and forth.

A few more drinks and I’ll be well and truly drunk.

Drunk enough to forget I ever ran into Flynn.

I am so drunk.

The bar keeps going in and out of focus. When it’s not doing that, it’s spinning . My whole body is tingling, and I can’t feel the glass I’m holding. I take a gulp and spit the water out. Water? I don’t want water. I wave to the bartender, who takes his sweet time coming over to me.

“You gave me water,” I whine.

“Yes.”

“Vodka. Please.”

He shakes his head.

I almost cry. “No?”

“You’re cut off. It’s time to go home.”

“You cut me off?” I’ve never been cut off before. I’ve never been this drunk before. Have I? I giggle because I can’t remember. “My ride’s around here somewhere.”

I twist on the barstool and scan the dance floor. Whoa. Why do so many people have big heads? Oo, it’s like being in a fun house full of crazy mirrors. Round and round we go. Wiggle wiggle.

I turn around again, mouth dry. “I can’t see my friends.” Oh, that’s right, Angus came and told me he was going. He offered me a lift home, but I told him I was fine. I hiccup. I’m fine. I point at the bartender. “I’ll get a taxi.”

I stand up, using the bar for support. My legs are wobbly one second and not there the next. I wander towards the exit, weaving this way and that. People keep getting in my way. Why would they do that?

I stumble onto the street. Why is there a queue for taxis? Where do I live again? I stand in the wibbly-wobbly queue, which takes forever to move. Eventually, I get to the front.

The driver stares at me. “Not you, mate.” He points at a sign, but it’s too fuzzy and tiny to read. “No drunks.”

“I’m not—”

He puts the window up. Clunk. Did he lock the doors? Bastard. I stumble backwards as a couple steals my taxi.

“Bastards.”

“I couldn’t get one either.”

I spin around and almost fall over. I stick my hand out and brace myself against a lamppost. Oh, no, that’s not a lamppost. That’s Flynn, leaning against a lamppost, with his hands on his knees and my hand in his face.

“Fuck. Sorry.”

He grunts.

“You look awful.” But still kinda hot. At least, he would if he would stand still. Why are there two Flynns? I laugh.

“Why are you laughing?” His words slur together.

I’m pretty sure the only reason I can understand him is that I speak drunk, too. It’s a secret language. Or, or, like Klingon! I make the ‘live long and prosper’ sign and then snort-laugh.

He sinks to the floor. “Go away.”

I crouch beside him and then fall on my arse. I laugh harder. “What ya gonna do?”

He shrugs. “Sleep?”

“Here?”

He flops onto the floor. “Why not? It’s comfy.”

Using the lamppost, I manage to stand. I lean down, grab his arm, and pull.

“Leave me alone.”