Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Inside the townhouse, both Marissa’s and Ana’s bedroom doors are closed, but Marissa comes out as I’m rinsing my water bottle. “You’re home much earlier than I hoped you’d be.”
Grinning, I roll my eyes and shake my head. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Who were you with? Anybody I know? Though I don’t think I know anyone who lives on Surfline Drive.”
I make a show of checking my watch. “It’s late, and I need to be up early. I’ll tell you all about it the next time I see you.”
My roommate’s eyes are full of hope. “Just tell me, are you seeing him again?”
“It’s not like that, Marissa.” To myself I add, We’re going to pretend it’s like that, for my family’s sake, but it’s not, no matter how many dick pics are on offer.
Still, I’m humming one of my favorite songs while I get ready for bed, and as I fall asleep, I’m surprised to find that I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
Miles is in yoga class as usual, and now that we have an arrangement between us, I’m treated to a nod as a morning greeting. Not a hello, not a smile, and definitely no conversation, but there is a nod of acknowledgment, so I guess that’s progress.
I don’t understand how Max thinks his brother will be able to act like he’s my boyfriend, and I’m having a really hard time imagining Miles and Max passing themselves off as the same person, despite their identical features.
The women in class ogle Miles, as usual, and I laugh to myself, imagining how they’d behave if they knew he had a twin. If both men came to class, I’d have to hold the session outdoors to accommodate everyone who would come just to look at the two of them.
My midday shift at Big Daddy’s moves slower than dirt, and then it’s finally time to go learn all I can about the Pruitts.
After a quick stop at my house to shower and change clothes, I drive over to their beach rental, where Max greets me at the door with a friendly hello and a quick hug before ushering me inside. I enjoy the hug more than I'm willing to admit.
Miles, who’s in the kitchen putting away dishes from the dishwasher, gives me another brief nod.
After Max pulls out a stool for me at the tall counter that separates the living room from the kitchen, I take a seat. “Since I’m here to get to know you both better, I’m going to dive right in.”
Max takes a step back. “I was going to offer you something to drink first, but okay. Go ahead.”
“Were you two raised together, or did you have some kind of Parent Trap situation, where you grew up across the world from one another?”
Max’s brows knit together. “That’s your first question?” To his brother, he says, “See, I told you she had a vivid imagination.”
Finished with his task, Miles leans against the far wall, watching us. The kitchen is extraordinarily clean. From what I can see, I’d be comfortable eating food directly from any part of the gleaning countertop, or possibly even the floor. Not one single stray item clutters any surface.
Max crosses into the kitchen, the strong muscles in his back prominent even beneath the black t-shirt he’s wearing. “Why do you ask that, Callie?”
“From everything I’ve observed over the past week, the two of you are night and day. I always thought identical twins had similar behaviors as well as appearances.”
“Not necessarily,” Max says, “but we have more in common than you think. Miles is just quieter than I am.”
At this, Miles turns away, busying himself with something on the empty counter, and I’m afraid that I’ve offended him. While I’m trying to figure out what to say to make things right, Max opens the door of the refrigerator and lists off a selection of beverages as he looks inside.
“Can I get half lemonade, half iced tea, please?”
Max gestures making a note in the air. “Likes Arnold Palmers.” While he pours the drink, he quizzes me on other beverage likes and dislikes, and tells me his in return, including his mixed drink preferences.
“Are you sure we can do this? We’re barely scratching the surface, and this already seems like a lot to remember. And what kind of drinks do you like, Miles?”
“We have the same taste in most things.” Maybe it’s because he rarely speaks, but the way Miles says this and the way he’s looking at me, has me reading more into his words than drink preferences. It has my cheeks going warm, actually.
Max grins as he sets my drink in front of me. “We don’t need to know everything about each other. We can say our relationship is new, and body language will sell it more than knowing every like and dislike. Don’t worry, Callie.”