8. My Spontaneous Sister
8
My Spontaneous Sister
Carson
My sister is nothing but spontaneous.
It’s something that sets us apart from being twins. I’m the more organized one, while she’s a bit on the wild side, and a lot more unhinged. Here’s an example.
About five minutes after I arrive back from the village, Carly makes her way through the front gate and to the yard, where she and Adrian are seated on the lawn chairs, probably talking about movies or something.
They look a little too friendly, in my opinion.
I open the front door of my house, holding my hands up to my mouth like a megaphone. “Yo, Miller! Stop flirting with my sister!”
My buddy’s head turns in my direction and groans. “For the last time, I am not interested in your sister like that.”
I know that, but it’s so easy to tease Adrian.
“Your loss, A,” Carly sighs. She’s joking. Carly doesn’t date—she has guys, but never boyfriends—and it’s always been that way. Some say she’s flighty, while I believe that nobody is entertaining enough for her. “I’m a real catch.”
“Car, what are you doing here?” I ask.
“I sent you a text,” she tells me. “Didn’t you get it?”
“You never sent me anything,” I assure her.
Grabbing her phone from the back pocket of her shorts, she stares at the screen with brows furrowed. “Huh, I guess I didn’t. I swear I typed something.”
“Carly…”
“Can’t I just check on my little brother?” She stands up from her seat and heads over to sling an arm over my shoulders and pulls me in for a side hug. She’s not that much shorter than me so her arm rests comfortably. We also look fairly alike for a pair of fraternal twins, except my hair is darker than hers. “Let me see how my little Cars is doing.”
“Little?” I groan. “I’m taller.”
“But you’re not older,” she shoots back, a smug grin that has me rolling my eyes. “Whatcha boys up to?”
“Nothing,” I answer, while Adrian responds with, “We’re heading to this party later tonight. It’s supposed to be pretty chill.”
Really, Adrian? You don’t bring up the p-word in front of my sister. If anything, that word should be spelt-out but Carly’s so fucking smart she would figure it out in an instant.
Her pale blue eyes light up at the word and she gasps. “I’m in! This is going to be fun!”
“But it’s supposed to be chill,” I say.
Carly scoffs. “It’s a USC party. How chill can they get?”
She’s not wrong.
I’ve partied a fair amount in my time here but I haven’t attended other college parties—just the ones held at USC. Just because it doesn’t have a whole bunch of Greek letters attached to the front of the house doesn’t mean it won’t be intense.
Must be the stress of the midterms ending that has people going batshit crazy.
Once we entered the house, the rest of us split. Everyone but me and Adrian went in different directions from each other. I’m nursing a lukewarm can of Sprite while watching a game of beer pong go wrong through a window outside, while Adrian’s drinking a water because he’s too much of a lightweight who easily gets buzzed after one beer—which he chugged and regretted almost immediately.
“Oh look.” Adrian’s head is turned towards the front door. “The others are here.”
I’m about to ask who he’s talking about when Ronnie Cho wraps his arms around the both of us. “What’s up, cocksuckers?”
“Enzo’s running late,” Adrian replies. Not even a hello that precedes it. Why is he even broodier when buzzed? It’s insane.
“How did you know what I was going to ask, dear Millie?”
“Not Millie,” he complains. The dude hates that nickname.
Allowing myself to turn around, I spot the rest of Enzo’s roommates. What surprises me more is finding Diana here. Even though I know she doesn’t attend these parties, that’s not what catches me off-guard.
It’s how she’s dressed. Don’t get me wrong, she looks fucking beautiful—always has since the day I met her—but tonight…wow.
Even my inside thoughts are drawing blanks to describe her. Her hair flows down her shoulders and over the thin straps of her cherry-red top and slightly faded shorts and I can't help but stare.
She almost commands my attention.
“Uh, Carson?”
Blinking, I turn around to see Adrian and Ronnie staring at me with somewhat concerned expressions.
“Yeah?” I raise a brow.
“You didn’t hear what I asked?” Ronnie smirks. “Of course you didn’t. Can you stop eye-fucking my roommates, please? The world would be better for it.”
Adrian takes this moment to shrug out of Ronnie’s arm. “I need another drink.” He stalks off without another glance back. Odd, he hardly ever drinks to begin with but he must be nervous about this undisclosed girl.
Ronnie and I share a glance and he shrugs. “He’s your roommate, Ryder,” he reminds me—not that I need it—before releasing me from his grasp and walking away in the opposite direction.
Here I am, left alone while everyone else continues to party. Maybe I’ve outgrown the party scene. Ditching the drink on an island, I reach for an open cooler and grab a soda can. I’m not even slightly buzzed but it’s the taste of beer that I need to wash away.
“Carrrrsssssonnnn,” my sister slurs, wrapping one arm around my back. “I lost my ring,” she wails.
And my sister, the lightweight that she is, is already drunk. Oh, someone please help me.
“Wait,” I say, prying my sister off of me and standing the both of us upright. “You lost the ring?”
She nods, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “I can’t find it anywhere!”
Great. Carly and I both have Irish Claddagh rings that were gifted to us back when we graduated high school from our late grandmother. I never lost mine but Carly has a habit of misplacing everything she touches. It’s not her fault, usually.
“Where did you last see it?” I ask her slowly, enunciating each word because I’ve been around a drunk Carly before—and it’s not easy.
“It was on my hand for one minute,” she tells me. “And in the next, it’s gone. I don’t see it anywhere.”
Observing the groups, I take a look around. Carly’s ring is small so it won’t be easy to spot it from a distance.
“What do I do?” She cries. That ring is important to my sister so I can understand how upset she is. The Claddagh ring holds a lot of sentimental value to her.
“Car,” I repeat over and over again to calm her down. “We’re going to find it, don’t you worry. We just need to keep looking.”
Wherever that fucking ring may be.