Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
I choke down a laugh, because I know he wouldn’t appreciate being laughed at during such a sensitive topic. “I’m almost certain that won’t happen. But yeah, you don’t want to just go for it while she’s mid-sentence or anything. There’s a thing called consent. So, read the moment, you know? Wait for a lull in the conversation, gauge her expression and look for the signals.”
“What signals?”
“Like, if she’s licking her lips, it usually means she’s thinking about kissing you. If she’s staring at your mouth, also a good sign. Actually, that’s the way in,” I tell him, pushing away from the railing and heading for the cooler near the door. “Alright, listen up. This is what you gotta do.”
He trails after me, accepting the soda I hand him. For myself I get a beer, twisting off the cap and tossing it in the plastic bucket on the deck. I return to the wooden railing and hop up to sit atop it.
“So at the end of the date,” I continue, “or in the middle, or whenever you gather up the courage to do it, this is what you do—you stare at her lips. For like five seconds.”
Riley sputters out a laugh. “That’s so creepy!”
“It’s really not. Stare at her lips until she gets all awkward and says, why are you looking at me like that? Or some variation of that question.” When he opens his mouth to protest, I interject, “Trust me, she’ll say it. And when she does, you say, because I really want to kiss you right now—can I? So now she’s prepared, right? And based on her response, you go from there.”
“What if her response is no?”
“Then you handle the rejection like a man, tell her you had a great summer with her, and wish her luck on her future endeavors.”
I can’t help but marvel at the sheer maturity I’m exuding. If only Gen were here to see it.
“But for what it’s worth, a chick doesn’t go out with someone four times if she’s not interested,” I assure him.
“Truth,” Cooper’s voice echoes from the sliding door. “For once, my brother’s not talking out of his ass.”
Riley’s gaze snaps to the door. His jaw falling open, he glances at Cooper, then me, then Coop again, and finally me. “Holy shit, you didn’t tell me you guys were identical,” he accuses.
I roll my eyes. “I said we were twins. Figured you’d extrapolate from there.”
Grinning, Coop extends a hand toward my Little Brother. “Hey, I’m Cooper. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
Riley’s still blinking like an owl, astounded at our twinship. “Wow. It’s scary how alike you look. If you weren’t wearing different clothes, I don’t think I’d be able to tell you apart.”
“Not many people can,” I say with a shrug.
“What about girls? Like, your girlfriends? Did they ever get you guys mixed up?” He’s utterly fascinated.
“Sometimes,” Coop answers as he grabs a beer for himself. He strides toward the barbecue, lifts the lid, and groans happily. “Oh man, those ribs look amazing.” He turns back to Riley. “Serious girlfriends usually know the difference, though. My girl says she can tell us apart by our footsteps.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” I crack, sipping my beer. Yes, Mac can tell us apart, but from the sounds we make while we walk? I call bullshit.
Coop flashes a smug smile. “It’s true.”
Beyond his shoulder, I glimpse Mac through the open sliding doors. She just entered the kitchen and is removing items from the fridge. Then she starts preparing a sandwich at the counter, her back to us.
I slide off the railing. “I request permission to test that theory.”
Cooper follows my gaze, smirks, and nods magnanimously. “Go for it.”
Utilizing the stealth mode I’d perfected after years of sneaking in and out of houses and girls’ bedrooms, I creep into the kitchen. Mac is focused on arranging cheese slices on her bread, singing softly to herself. Only when I’m close enough that she won’t have much time to turn around, I walk normally and come up behind her.
Wrapping both hands around her waist, I nuzzle her neck and speak in my perfect, uncanny Cooper voice. “Hey, babe, your ass looks good enough to eat in those shorts.”
An outraged cry fills the kitchen as she spins around and tries to knee me in the groin. “What the fuck, Evan! Why?”
Luckily, I capture her knee with both hands before it connects with the family jewels. Then I dart backward and raise my hands in surrender. From the deck, loud laughter greets my ears.
“Told you!” Cooper calls out.
“What is wrong with you!” Mac huffs.
“It was just an experiment,” I protest, keeping my distance. “Question, though. How did you know it was me?”
“Your footsteps,” she growls. “You walk like it’s a game.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Evan, please get out of my sight before I punch you in your stupid face.”