Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“What is?” I ask when I’m finally able to speak some words.
“Your eyes,” he says. “I can get lost in your eyes.” And just when I think he is going to lean in and kiss me, just when I can literally taste his lips on mine, the door swings open, and Zoe steps inside. I jump away from him and out of his reach, an action Zoe doesn’t miss.
“Holy shit, I didn’t know you were home,” she says from the front door and then looks at Evan. “I thought you were going out.”
“Change of plans,” I tell her. “Come in.”
“What the fuck?” I hear whispered from beside me, and I look at him. “There are two of you?”
I shake my head and laugh. “This is my twin sister, Zoe.” Zoe puts her purse down next to mine and slips off her jacket, tossing it on top of everything. This is the professional Zoe. She is wearing a maroon-colored pants suit with a white button-down silk shirt. I know exactly what brand her Yves St-Laurent shoes are because she stole them from my closet.
“I’m the pretty one,” Zoe says, walking up to him and putting her hand out. “I’m also the funny one.”
“She isn’t the funny one at all,” I finally pipe in. “She’s the annoying one who has the worst timing of life.”
She laughs now. “She didn’t say that when I pulled the fire alarm at school and got her out of detention.” I look over at Evan who just stands there laughing. “Anyway, I thought you guys were going out. I came by to borrow a dress for a function I have to attend this weekend.”
“And you weren’t going to ask me?” She shrugs after I ask her the question.
“We were just going to order pizza,” Evan says and puts his arms around my shoulders. Zoe’s eyes watch his every move. “You should join us.”
“Oh, there is an us now is there?” she teases, and I don’t know who I’m going to kill first.
Chapter Eight
Evan
I look across the dining room table at her as she takes a bite of her pizza. Not with a knife and fork, not even with a plate in front of her. Straight out of the box, she’s folded the piece in half and taken a bite.
“This has to be the best pizza of life,” Zoe says, and my head turns to her. When we were standing in the hallway, and I was so close to tasting her, I would have made a deal with the devil for just one kiss. Just one. But no one was taking bets that day because the door opened and shut, and I thought I was going lightheaded when I saw the woman at the door. All the blood had left my head and traveled south.
“It’s my favorite,” I say, grabbing another slice out of one of the three boxes. We were going to eat in the living room, but Zara brought the pizza into the dining room. I’m now sitting in one of the brown chairs with the square marble table between us. She moved the vase of flowers to the other side. She sits at the head of the square table, I sit on her left, and Zoe sits on her right. “I have it every single time I’m here,” I tell them, folding my own pizza except pieces of sausage fall out. I ordered a large pie for each of us since we couldn’t decide on the same toppings. Zara was a just cheese girl, but Zoe added pineapples, and there was no way in fuck I was eating that one. Besides, I was going to finish this whole pie.
“So Evan,” Zoe starts, and I look up mid chew. “What did you think of the tweet?”
“I thought it was funny.” I look over at Zara who smiles and nods. “But I think the funniest part was the hashtag at the end.”
“I think she should have put his picture with it so if you googled that hashtag, his picture would show up,” Zoe said, and I almost choke now.
“I don’t know the law all that well, but I think he could sue for defamation of character?” I tell her, grabbing the water bottle and taking a drink.
“But then he would have to prove he doesn’t have a pencil dick. And well,” Zoe says, lifting her hand open, “he’s going to lose.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Zara says.
“Yes, we can,” Zoe says. “Let’s talk about your date.”
“No,” Zara says at the same time I say, “Sure.” And she turns and glares at me.
“Perfect,” Zoe says, clapping her hands together and rubbing them. Zara drops the crust of her pizza in front of her and gets up.
“Eat.” I look at her, pointing at the pizza, and Zoe stops rubbing her hands together. “You didn’t eat all day.”