Tessa

By the time Burt shows up, the cops are finished with me and Cara, but now the creepy dude is wailing about being assaulted, so Lane’s caught up in the mix all over again, this time around with Burt, who’s all too happy to march everyone back inside for a nice viewing of the security tapes.

Well, everyone except Cara and I. The two of us are sitting together, huddled against one another on the bench near the main doors where we have a clear shot at everyone in the office without having to be crammed in there beside everyone else. Feels safer that way somehow. Even more so because I notice Lane glances out to check on me every ten seconds or so.

“Still think he’s an asshole out to torture you?” Cara mumbles under her breath.

“I’m willing to give up the asshole argument, but I think we both know, this will end up being torture for me, no matter which way it goes,” I whisper back, slouching down a little more, depleted of the energy required for sitting upright.

“You need therapy in such a big way,” she says dryly.

I laugh.

“I’m serious. The kind of issues you have, you need a professional to fix.”

I laugh harder.

“Why the hell is this so funny?”

Tears. I’m crying real tears I’m laughing so hysterically. “Because,” I say, gasping for air and trying to get ahold of myself mid-hysterics, “he’s my psyche professor.”

“Oh.” Cara’s stern frustration starts to melt away. “Wow. Talk about convenient.”

And now, we’re both laughing. So much so, we’re drawing all sorts of attention from the men in the office. Well, all of them except for Burt, who just waves us off in a dismissive gesture grumbling, “Yeah, they do that.”

By the time we manage to quiet down, Lane is free to go thanks to a very clear shot on the surveillance tape proving that creeper dude was in fact the aggressor, and Burt is shooing us all out of the building, insisting he’ll worry about getting the place cleaned up in the morning. We’ve had enough for one night, and frankly, so has he.

“I’ll drive,” Lane says, his hand on my lower back guiding me into the parking lot.

At least five different arguments spring to the tip of my tongue at once. The fact I’m fully capable of driving and I don’t want to leave my car jumping to the forefront, but I don’t say anything. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other until we reach his vehicle. Whether he’s oblivious enough to believe it should always be this simple with me or rather prefers not to tempt fate by saying anything else, I don’t know, either way, we both remain silent even as he opens the door for me to get in, and then when he joins me in the car and starts it up.

We’re halfway home when I conclude the silence is worse than any attempts at awkward small talk could possibly be.

“Finally decided to make contact with your past again?” I ask, staring straight ahead through the windshield.

“Not exactly,” he says quietly.

I turn to look at him. “You were with a whole group of people tonight. And I didn’t know any of them, so they were your people. From wherever you’re from.” 

“They were not my people,” he answers quietly, “They were my sister’s people.”

“You have a sister?” I probably didn’t need to sound quite so surprised. I mean, he could have a sister. He could have ten for all I know.

“I do.”

“Older? Younger?”

His lips hitch up ever so slightly. “Older. By about three minutes.”

“You’re a twin?” Now I really am surprised. Legitimately. I mean, being a twin, I feel like that’s something you tell people. Up front. Like, hey, my name is Michael McMichael and I’m a twin. At least that’s how I would do it if I were a twin. That’s some cool shit.

“I’m a twin.”

“I feel like you should elaborate,” I explain, quite impatiently.

He sighs in his dramatic but entertained way. “Alexis. That’s her name. Outside of having shared a womb for nearly nine months, we have virtually nothing in common. She’s a pediatric surgeon, married to her college sweetheart. Went to all the finest schools. Graduated with honors. She’s perfect, basically.”

“I don’t know how that means you have nothing in common. Some might argue you two are very similar. You know, minus the relationship status.”

He shakes his head. “Trust me. Not similar enough. Just ask my parents.”

I frown. “Are you about to tell me you’re like the black sheep of your family or something? You? The psychiatrist with his beach front office?”

“In a family of medical doctors who like wielding a scalpel, being the guy who prefers to dissect his patient’s feelings over their insides, doesn’t earn you high points. Believe me.”

I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. Families are complicated. I know that better than most.

“If you have nothing in common, how did she make it through your whole no overlapping the past and present rule?” I ask instead.

“According to her, we’re two halves of the same whole, therefore any attempts to shut her out are futile. If I’m there, she’s there.” He grins. “She’s not wrong.”

“So, you’re close. Even though you’re different.”

He nods. “Yeah. That whole womb thing, it stays with ya.” He turns toward me briefly and winks. Then, his attention is back on the road, or our road, to be more specific. I didn’t realize we were home already.

“I’m glad,” I mumble, unbuckling as the car comes to a stop. “Everyone needs someone like that.”

“Like you have Drea,” he points out.

“Yeah.” We may as well have shared a womb, as close as we are.

Both of us moving especially slow after our long night out, we make our way up the three flights of stairs toward our apartment.

I reach the door first and unlock it, letting us both in. I hear Lane click the deadbolt into place behind me and feel the tension release from my neck and shoulders almost instantly. It’s been a crazy night, scary and crazy. But we’re home. And for the first time since I walked in and found Lane here, I’m grateful I’m not alone.

Stopping short before I reach my bedroom door, I turn around to face him. I take a deep breath. And then ~

“Thanks.” Such a lame word. It’s so puny compared to what I’m feeling. Which reminds me of the other puny lame words I need to say to him. “And...I’m sorry.”

His head shifts sideways just enough to meet my gaze in a sweet sort of manner. “For what?”

“You know, just letting my crazy spill out all over you in full-on bitch mode throughout most of our interactions.”

He grins. It’s adorable and lickable and I close my eyes to keep from acting on my impulses.

“To be fair, I’ve made it extremely easy for you to lash out at me in full-on bitch mode, given you reasons to even.” His hand begins to move toward me, but he stops before making contact with my arm and retracts the motion, placing his hand safely into his pocket instead. I guess I’m not the only one struggling not to touch. Though keeping my tongue to myself should probably be more obvious and more achievable than him refraining from his comparably tame attempt at touching my arm with his fingertips.

I nod, not sure what else to say here. Probably best to simply end the conversation. Agree to move forward on a more balanced, friendly plane.

Keeping my eyes turned away from his, I make another attempt to reach my bedroom door, my fingers stretching, tips nearly gripping the handle. I’m seconds from disappearing inside, safe from any more temptation or confusion, but I’m a glutton for punishment, so I stop myself. I open my mouth. I ask.

“What really happened with Jules?”

I can feel him take a step closer from behind me, his body heat permeating my own personal space bubble. When he answers, his mouth is so close to me, I can feel his soft breath rush over my bare neck, giving me goosebumps all down my body.

“Nothing.”

I absolutely refuse to turn around to face him now. If I do, all sorts of stupid is bound to follow.

“Then why did she have your phone?”

He sighs quietly, and I can feel the motion behind me. His face getting ever nearer to my head, his movements mingling with my hair.

“She said she forgot hers and insisted she needed to take a crapload of selfies with everyone to document the night out and therefore needed to borrow mine.” I can feel him shrug, his body shifting up and down against my back. “I figured worst case scenario, I wind up with some really cute shots of you on my phone and just crop her out of them.”

Then he goes still. No more shrugging. No more leaning or swaying, or amused dancing about of any kind. His hands find my waist and slowly bring me back around toward him. All plans to avoid eye contact are aborted when I see his face. He’s serious. Dead serious. In an emotional, scary sort of way. He’s telling the truth.

“I didn’t sleep with Jules, Tess. I didn’t even know that was her name until I heard you call her by it when we were out. The only reason I went, is because she said it was a group thing and it gave me an excuse to spend more time with you. It wasn’t supposed to be a date at all.”

The piercing gleam in his eye is enough to make me start to back away, but his grip on me is firm and he stops me. The left corner of his mouth rises briefly, letting me know he noticed my attempted escape.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” he whispers in his deep rasp. It’s unhinging-ly sexy and I feel as though parts of me are bursting to break free from the confines of my body. “I don’t want to be someone who hurts you. And if you think I could, then maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

“Will you? Will you hurt me?” My whisper is more like a squeak and not remotely seductive.

“I might,” he relents with a strained sigh. Still sexy. “But it won’t be with someone else. This thing between us, it’s just us. I’m not interested in being with any other women. But I also can’t give you more than what it is. This is all I’m offering.”

“It’s not a bad offer.”

A gentle curve returns to his perfect lips. “So, you’re accepting?”

“I’m entertaining.” I’m stalling. I’m totally accepting. Just wrapping my brain around the things my body is fully committed to. “But, I have conditions.”

“Name them.”

“This just us business, I want it to apply on all levels. No one needs to know. It’s better for keeping the job you don’t give two shits about, and frankly, better for my reputation which, I do kind of like to maintain.” Not to mention, my scholarship is also kind of riding on playing by all rules, and this, well, clearly doesn’t.

He leans in and I back up until I’m one with the door behind me. “Anything else?”

I nod. “You hurt me again, you forfeit your lease.”

“Fair enough.”

“Also, I think we should probably sleep on the whole thing. Cool down. Make a level-headed decision in the morning when we’re thinking rationally.”

He keeps coming closer, hands moving tighter around my waist, up my back until his fingers are pressed firmly to me along with every other part of him. “I haven’t had a rational thought since you walked in swinging an umbrella at me,” he rasps, “now stop talking, I’ve been dying to kiss those lips since this morning and I can’t do that when you keep moving them.” Just in case I attempt to argue, he takes my lower lip in-between his teeth and tugs until my eyes roll back into my head and my mouth crushes his, ready to be devoured.

His grip moves and before I know what’s happening, my toes are no longer touching the ground and he’s lifting me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. Rapidly the distance between my back and my bedroom door increases as he carries me backwards to his own room. There’s a brief fumbling as he struggles with the door one handedly, unwilling to untangle himself from me long enough to see what he’s doing.

“Shit,” he grumbles into my mouth.

“You really need to stop saying that when we’re together like this,” I mumble back between heated kisses.

The handle clicks and the door opens. His mouth moves under mine, grinning. “Got it.” We back inside and he kicks the door shut on his way toward the dresser where he sets me down without ever breaking contact with my lips. 

My hands steadily make their way down to his pants so I can begin to peel his shirt up and off his body while he undresses me with a ferocious speed giving every indication we’re doing this right here and now. No moving to the bed. No wasting time on anything but each other.

High on everything from his cologne to the touch of his skin on mine, all reason escapes me and I give in fully to the moment. This moment. Right now, between us. Unfolding at such rapid speeds, I can barely catch my breath. And yet, I can’t slow down. Don’t want to slow down. Don’t want to have even a second to waste on second thoughts or doubts or reminders of how I know better. Every instinct to be responsible and make the right choices falls by the wayside tonight. I want this. I want him. Just for me. Just because it feels so damn good.

The sound of my zipper coming undone briefly breaks through the delirious trance and my eyes meet his in a moment of total stillness.

“Don’t fuck this up,” I whisper.

“I won’t if you won’t,” he answers softly, the tip of his nose nudging mine.

“Deal.” The moment passes. The stillness speeds up. And I’m free falling with no end in sight.

Lane

After the dresser, we move it to the shower where things get hellishly hot and dirty before they get even remotely clean. When we finally make it to the bed, it’s nearly five in the morning, but that doesn’t stop me from rounding out the night by taking my sweet-ass time taking care of every last inch of her in ways I was too wound up to do earlier when my every thought was about getting inside her and making all of the shit images still floating through my head about that bastard who tried to hurt her disappear.

When she falls asleep still wrapped up in me, all the fear and tension of her night have melted away and a contented smile is resting beautifully on her perfect mouth.

I close my eyes, roll my neck and drop my head back into my pillow. Every tedious word Alexis ranted at me tonight comes flooding back. She’s never been one to side with our parents, but tonight, even she told me I was fucking up my entire life. She’s not wrong. I ditched my practice, my patients and right along with it, my reputation. All to take on a new job I’m well on my way of fucking up just as bad, if not worse. And for what? To prove Olivia was right to walk out like she did? To validate her decision to choose Brant over me? Or is it simply an act of giving up and giving in. Accepting what I’ve been told most of my life. That I’m a second rate, slacker with zero ambition. I make bad choices, and my judgement is total shit.

Well, that last part at least, I can now attest to. In all my infinite insight into people’s minds, I still couldn’t see the lies the two people closest to me were telling straight to my face, day after day, for nearly a year.

Tessa shifts her body, moving closer into my chest and pulling me back out of my head. I used to think this is what trust looks like. Her, vulnerable and nestled against me, as if I’m a safe place she can fall into. But it’s as much a lie as everything else is. It’s why this thing between us works. Because the only one either of us truly trusts, is ourselves.