Chapter Thirteen
Gemma
Two: We have a date for Hemingford Hall. I’ll pick you up in a few.
I rub the sleep out of my eyes as panic sets in. How long ago did he send this text? Thirteen minutes ago. Crap!
Flying out of bed, I manage to throw on jeans, a hoodie, and my sneakers before I get another text.
Two: I’m waiting, but not for long. I have donuts. On me since you’re food poor.
Oh my God.
I don’t have time to be annoyed. The last thing I want to do is drive myself to Hemingford Hall. I rush into the bathroom, brush my teeth and then my hair before pulling my long locks into a messy bun.
There’s no time for makeup.
What if one of my followers sees me?
Panic starts to set in as I contemplate grabbing my makeup bag to put it on in the car, but then Two’s blasting my phone again.
Two: Come on, Golden!
Two: Sixty seconds…fifty-nine…fifty-eight…
“Asshole,” I hiss, storming out of the bathroom. I snatch up my backpack and purse, nearly crashing into Mom as I exit my room.
“Whoa, sweetie,” Mom says with a chuckle. “Where are you headed off to in such a hurry? Coffee date with Tate?”
“Uh, no, sorry. Off to work on my project with my partner.”
She opens her mouth, ready to ask more questions, but I quickly kiss her cheek and rush down the stairs.
“Be careful! Let us meet this girl soon!”
Girl?
Oh crap. They’ll probably freak once they learn I’ve been running around with a guy. I’ll save that drama for another day.
Dad is in his office when I pass, but thankfully, he’s on the phone. I blow him a kiss and then run out the front door in a frenzy.
And, as promised, Two is already halfway down the road.
He freaking left me!
“Hey!” I holler, chasing after his stupid junk mobile. “It hasn’t been sixty seconds, asshole!”
He hits the brakes and waits for me to catch up. By the time I climb into his vehicle, I’m sweaty and pissed off.
“Rude!” I shriek, damn near on the verge of tears from frustration. “You can’t do that to me!”
Emotion clogs my throat and I feel like I’m going to cry. Over a stupid boy! But it’s not just him. It’s everything. School, my family, work. I’ve just got a lot on my plate and I’m starting to feel overwhelmed. The last thing I need is Two adding more stress. My bottom lip wobbles and I bite on it.
“You like butterscotch coffee?” Two asks in greeting. “Hope so.”
I stare at the coffee in the cupholder from my favorite place. Rather than yelling at him more or crying, I pick the coffee up and sip it. It’s sweet and delightful. “Thank you.”
He gasses his car and we barrel down the road. “Sorry for being a dick last night. Is that why you’re about to cry?”
Last night, he did hurt my feelings. However, it wasn’t out of character for him. Dempsey and Spencer showed up right after he walked away, so it was a good distraction.
“I’m not about to cry,” I grumble, though the tremor in my voice says otherwise.
“Liar.”
Anger flares in my chest, chasing away the hysteria. I sip on my coffee and peek over at Two. Today he’s dressed casually like me in a PMU hoodie and jeans. Except instead of a messy bun, he’s wearing a worn ball cap to cover his chaotic hair.
“We’re twins,” I say with a snort. “Of course we are.”
He bristles and ignores the statement. Whatever. I’ll be able to handle his surly ass a lot better after coffee. By the time we make it to Hemingford Hall, my coffee has done its job and I’ve devoured two chocolate-glazed donuts.
Two doesn’t say anything as he parks and shuts off the car. He grabs his coffee and backpack before striding away toward the front door. I follow after him, my short legs unable to keep up with him. He’s already inside and gone by the time I reach the landing.
“He said he wants to look in the attic,” Paula says in greeting. “Good morning. You guys are up early today.”
“Just excited,” I tell her and mean it. “Do you think we could have any scrap material we find for our miniature model?”
“Of course. Take whatever you want as long as it’s nothing of value. I trust your judgment.”
I thank her and then hurry to find Two. When I reach the second floor, I find him at the end of the hall, pulling down a ladder from the ceiling. He’s dropped his belongings haphazardly in the middle of the floor. I take a moment to move his stuff to the wall and then add mine. By the time I finish, he’s already disappeared into the attic.
With a sigh, I crawl up the rickety ladder and into the dark, musty space. I sure as hell hope nothing jumps out at me. If I see a mouse, I’ll legit die.
I shudder just thinking about the time Dempsey found a dead mole in the yard and chased me around with it. He shoved it into my shirt. When I finally got it out from under my clothing and gathered the nerve to pick it up, I nailed him square in the nose with it. Made him bleed and everything. He deserved it one hundred percent.
Rodents are not my thing.
A dim light flickers on overhead and I see Two standing hunched over, his tall frame unable to be fully upright without hitting his head on the rafters. The space is littered with boxes, old furniture, and other treasures I’m eager to explore.
“Paula says we can take whatever we want for our project as long as it’s nothing of value. I think we should run everything by her before we actually take it just in case.”
He nods as he scans the boxes. “Where should we start, Golden?”
I dust off a velvet footstool and plop my ass on it. “Maybe catching our breath?”
His gray eyes lock on mine as he studies me. “Climbing a ladder winded you?”
“No, but frantically running since the moment I opened my eyes has.”
He cocks his head to the side. “You’re not wearing makeup. Where are your fake lashes?”
Wincing, I look away. I’d hoped he wouldn’t notice. I rarely go anywhere without makeup. Now I feel exposed and vulnerable.
I don’t say anything, wondering if I’m going to actually break down and cry today. It feels imminent and Two is supercharged today with his antagonization. It’s only a matter of time.
He crouches down in front of me, grabbing my chin with his long, bony fingers. “I like it better. You can see your freckles.”
My belly twists delightfully at his words. Did Two just compliment me? No way. “You should feel proud. Not everyone gets to see the real me. I’m apparently showing you all the goods.”
His thumb strokes along my jaw, sending a shiver down my spine. “Why are you showing me?”
Good question. Why am I letting Two see these parts of me? He’s been a maddening thorn in my side since the day I met him. Of all people, he doesn’t deserve to see past my carefully applied layers both inside and out.
“I don’t know. You just feel safe, I guess.”
He frowns at my words, drops his gaze to my non-glossed lips, and then scrambles away like he just saw a rat. I squeak, darting my head all over, looking for the beast.
“What did you see?” I demand, hugging my middle. “If it was a mouse, tell me. I don’t like them.”
With his back turned to me, he grunts and waves me off. “No mouse. We just need to get to work.”
I stay annoyed for about three seconds until he opens a box with old pictures. Then I grin back at him, eager to see what awaits us.
Paula let us borrow a few pictures, but we have to bring them back. However, she did let us take some of the torn-off wallpaper in the office, some dusty floorboards we found, an entire box full of old clothing, and a bunch of other random stuff. Now, we’re on our way to Two’s to work on our model.
“We should stop by this cool place on Main Street for lunch,” I say, pointing in the general direction. “We need fuel to keep working.”
“Let me guess,” he grumbles almost playfully, “I’m buying.”
“Naturally unless you think they’ll accept the change at the bottom of my purse.”
“You’ve got problems.”
I crack up laughing. “And you’re one of them.”
The vibe between us is no longer tense like it was this morning. We both fell into mutual states of bliss when we started discovering all the cool stuff in the attic. Despite it being winter, the attic got hot quickly and we both got filthy and sweaty. I suppose it was a good thing I didn’t waste my time on hair and makeup.
Two cruises down Main Street and then parks in front of Soup and More once I point at it. He doesn’t make a face or comment on the front of the building. After we climb out, I lead the way into the dark building. It’s busier than when me and Dempsey came, but there’re a few open tables.
With Two standing beside me at the counter, ready to pay for my food, I suddenly wonder if this is how it would feel to be on a date. Sure, I’ve liked guys over the years, but I haven’t ever been allowed to date any of them. Dad drilled into me that lots of guys are after two things—money and sex—and that I should deny them both until I know they’re the one.
We order our food and then settle at the same table me and Dempsey sat at. Two’s eyes bore into me from across the table. Then, to my surprise, he reaches across the table to wipe at my cheek.
“Dust is smudged on you,” he says, voice a low, guttural growl. “All better.”
I smile at him. “Thanks. What do you think of this place so far? Pretty cool, huh?”
“It’s definitely a hidden gem.” His eyes dart to mine and lock into place. “Pretty cool.”
My flesh heats because I think maybe he’s referring to me being the hidden gem. That I’m pretty cool. Or I could be feeling super vulnerable and reading into it. Ugh.
“Today was a success.”
He nods. “It’ll be even better once we get back to my place.”
Heat coils in the pit of my stomach. I’m definitely reading into everything he says. Why, of all people, does it have to be with Two?
“I don’t like to lose,” Two says, darting his gaze to the table. “That’s why I bolted after the pool game. Plus, your friend didn’t like me.”
“She’s family. And it was just a game, Two. You win some, you lose some.”
“But I don’t like losing to you,” he grits out. “It fucking sucks.”
I recoil at his words. “Oh.”
His panicked eyes land back on mine and he curses under his breath. “Sorry. I’m being dramatic. Supposedly it’s my thing.”
“I’m feeling a bit dramatic too today,” I admit with a shrug. “Can we just be dramatic together and know neither of us is going to leave the other in the literal dust? We’re partners. I like that I can let my guard down with you.”
He softens as he reaches over to touch my hand. “More dust.”
There was no dust. He just wanted an excuse to touch me.
Another shiver dances down my spine.
“I’m glad you’re my partner for this,” he murmurs, thumb gently rubbing at the pretend dust on my hand. “No one else is as serious as we are.”
“I’m an achiever, remember? I like to accomplish my goals and be the best. Even if I feel like a total fraud the entire time.”
He studies me for a long beat. “Is it hard being perfect all the time?”
I don’t fake a smile or spin a lie to make him think better of me. I give him the truth. “So hard. This morning, you almost saw the breakdown. Sometimes, when it’s all too much, I just come crashing down. It takes a few days to pick myself up and put all my armor back on.”
“Sounds heavy.”
“It is.”
“Leave your armor at home, Golden.”
Tears well, but I don’t let them fall. “Okay.”
The woman who owns the place—Cara—delivers our delicious food a little while later and it’s only then that I realize he’s held onto my hand the entire time.
I’m not reading into this.
Two likes me whether he likes it or not.
The feeling is mutual.