Twisted Love

by Piper Lawson

  Daisy takes a sip of her coffee before cursing at the temperature. “We should get going.”

  But the way Daisy’s looking at me with those huge, dark eyes has me thinking of another set of familiar dark eyes. Ones that changed not only the trajectory of my relationship with Daisy, but with myself.

  I don’t want last night to be a one-time thing. But if I’m going to convince her of that, I need to get my head on straight first.

  Eight Years Ago

  * * *

  I’d just finished my nighttime chemistry exam and was on my way out to celebrate when the call came in from Tris about Mom.

  Hospital.

  Overdose.

  I stayed on the line with him for an hour while he cried and cursed, then I made some more calls of my own to ensure she was getting looked after.

  I had another exam before I could head home for the summer. The doctors assured me there was nothing to be done in the meantime, that she was in stable condition. But I knew she wasn’t. Stable on the outside wasn’t the same as stable on the inside.

  I wanted to track down my dad and haul him up against a wall, hit him with my fists.

  I wanted to hold my mom's hand and stare at her pale face, to ask her why she put up with it until I got a good answer.

  Mostly, I wanted to forget the world outside. At school, it was easier to pretend I was in control—of my grades, my friends, girls. In light of what happened tonight… not so much.

  I grabbed my jacket to brace against the wind and went down to a bar students frequented near campus.

  I ordered hard liquor, drank it too fast. It burned through me, dulling the ache at the edges of my soul, the one that said something had gone horribly wrong and the world wasn’t as it seemed.

  That’s when I spotted her.

  Dark hair tumbled down her back in a wave. Curvy legs were revealed by a short denim skirt.

  The outfit was how I recognized her. The cropped shirt that must’ve been freezing if it weren’t for the jacket tucked under her arm.

  She looked as if she was alone, and that realization pulled me across the room, had me laying a hand on her shoulder. I was going to make sure she was okay. But when she turned and settled damp, heavily-rimmed eyes on me, the words stuck in my throat.

  Her eyes were wild. Haunted. Hurt.

  Or maybe that was only the reflection of mine on this night that had already cost me so much.

  “No,” she informed me before I could say a damn word, then she spun on her heel and headed for the door.

  It took me half a dozen steps to catch up with her. “No what?”

  “No, we’re not doing this. My sister and I had a big fight.”

  My first thought was whether her sister was okay, but I forced myself to focus on one twin at a time. “I’m not leaving you alone."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Sure, but it would be irresponsible to let you loose on the student body looking like that. Let’s go to my car.” She shot me a look, and I let out an exasperated huff. “I’m not driving home. I just need somewhere to think. You look like you could use that too.”

  She followed me to the parking garage, where I stopped in front of the Mustang I’d bought the year before with the proceeds of my first venture. I shifted in and reached over to get her door.

  My body buzzed through the seat. I stared out the windshield at the concrete parking structure around us. Every breath was painful. For the first time, thanks to the alcohol or my state of mind, my own agitation sank in.

  “What’s your problem?”

  Her voice cut the quiet, and I turned to look at her. “My mom went to the hospital tonight after overdosing.”

  Whatever she expected, it wasn’t that. “I'm sorry."

  Being in my car with this girl was weird. If anything, I’d been hanging out more with her sister.

  “We all have our problems. Don’t say anything to anyone. About my mom.”

  “Who’m I going to tell?” Her voice was softer than usual. Self-deprecating.

  I leaned over the console, catching her hair where it stuck in the door.

  Instead of pulling back, I lingered there, our faces inches apart. It wasn’t her makeup or her dress, it was the look in her eyes, like she wanted to run from it all too, that fucking called to me.

  That was why I kissed her.

  There was nothing first-kiss-like about it. Nothing tentative or exploratory.

  It was a raw truth, a moment of weakness I saw reflected back at me. As if two people who normally had their shit together could find solace for a few seconds in a darkened car.

  She welcomed me, opened under the crush of my mouth. I dragged her across the car and into my lap. It was every bit of wild desperation in me, crude and angry.

  If a few seconds was good, a few minutes had to be better.

  She was fire in my arms, clawing at me as if she was just as needy as I was.

  I didn’t have to justify this or explain it. I dragged her shirt over her head, and she moaned against my mouth as I stroked her sides, her breasts. I was hard for her, grinding against the soft spot between her thighs I suddenly wanted more than my next breath.

  Her hands were on my zipper as if she wanted that too.

  “You sure?” I rasped as she worked my jeans down, me shifting to help.

  Her tight nod had my abs clenching harder. “Yeah. I’m on the pill.”

  This is wrong. A voice that sounded like mine echoed somewhere deep in my mind.

  But it was too late. She shifted over me, taking me inside her on a long stroke.

  I understood the appeal of casual hookups when everyone was on the same page, but this felt more complex, and the feelings ricocheting through me weren’t about sexual gratification. It was as if she had the same emotional brittleness, the same fragile pride masquerading as strength.

  Before tonight, I’d never been tempted by her advances, but from the moment she’d turned to look at me tonight, something had changed. I couldn't hold her away.

  What changed was the world fucked you over when you weren’t looking.

  “Ben. Oh my God.”

  My hands tangled in her hair, stroking a thumb down her cheek, the line of her jaw. I thrust up into her, needing to take her like she needed me. Needing to forget everything that wasn’t this.

  “Fuck, Vi.”

  She stiffened, pulling back to stare at me.

  Something was wrong. Awfully, horribly wrong.

  When my heart was still hammering against my ribs, she shifted off me, straightening her clothes. “This was a mistake.”

  “Wait.”

  But she was out of the car and across the parking garage before I could argue.

  17

  The morning after I slept with Vi, I woke in my car—where I'd fallen asleep—to a call that I could see my mom in the hospital.

  By the time I returned to school the next semester, Vi was gone.

  Daisy, though… Daisy was there.

  And I gradually realized what I wished I’d known all along—that she was the one who called to me, who got me, who I connected with.

  I was too disgusted with myself to do a thing about it other than be her friend, living in the fallout of sleeping with her twin, of losing control to chase something that could never satisfy me.

  It was a lesson in weakness.

  I’d never pursue an emotion promised by intimacy, fleeting or otherwise.

  But eight years is a long time to do penance.

  18

  Running a marketing and PR company has its glamorous moments—events, awards dinners, the occasional travel and weekends like the Vanes’. But a lot of it is days like today. Reviewing client files, ensuring we're not just keeping up but anticipating needs.

  “The charity campaign isn’t doing what we expected, but we made some adjustments and donations are up this past week,” Kendall says.

  I check that off my list as we go around the table. Serena and Kendall
give updates on their customers. When we're done, I feel more on top of things, which I know is thanks to the women leading accounts and not myself.

  “I appreciate you both taking on more while I’m overseeing this wedding. You’re both getting a cut of this.”

  “You don’t need to do that,” Kendall insists.

  “But we’re glad you are,” Serena quips, throwing a pencil at Kendall, who catches it, laughing. “Especially since you’re living the high life. The Vineyard with Ben? Can’t be all bad.”

  “It wasn’t,” I admit, unable to hide a smile.

  A knock at the door has me looking up to see my sister holding a cake-sized white box.

  Rena beats me to the door. “Damn, you’re the cutest thing ever.”

  Lily grins. “You’re saying that because I brought treats.”

  My sister comes and puts the box in the center of the table, opening the lid.

  “Oh, no. Those are the lavender cupcakes? Rory goes crazy over them,” Kendall says of her son, who loves cooking and baking. “He tried to replicate them but can’t and he refuses to let me bring them into the house because he’s irritated.”

  “What’s the writing on them?” Rena asks.

  I tilt my head to read the script that runs from each of the six cupcakes to the next. “You were a dick…but I was too…Let’s not fight… because you pay the rent.” The final two cupcakes have a smiley face and a heart on them.

  “I want a little sister,” Rena decides, reaching for the cupcake with “Because you pay the rent” on top. “Kendall has a cute kid, you have a cute sibling.”

  “You have a brother,” I remind her.

  “He’s in college, and he’s all drama. Literally. He’s in performing arts school.” But she smiles. I know she adores Beck.

  Lily clears her throat. “Can we talk a second?”

  “Yes, we were just finishing up.”

  Kendall says, “I’ll send you the summary for that client this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” I opt for the cupcake bearing, “You were a dick.” It’s probably best if that doesn’t wind up in the kitchen.

  I follow my sister back to my office and close the glass door after us.

  “So I know we haven’t had much time to talk this past week because you’ve been working to pay my tuition. Which again—appreciated.” Lil threads her hands together in front of her as if she’s been rehearsing this. “But I wanted to tell you, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

  I pick up the cupcake and swipe a finger through the icing, then suck it off. The sugar hits my veins in a heady rush that can only do so much to offset my skepticism.

  “I paid him to take my virginity.”

  Oh Jesus.

  “Not… what I thought you were going to say,” I admit.

  “He’s a guy from class. I tried to find the market value for a similar…service.”

  “And?” It’s amazing I can vocalize right now given what she’s telling me.

  “A hundred bucks. I thought it was important.” Her face scrunches up, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “But he didn’t…”

  “No, he left. We were going to reschedule.” Lily crosses to my floating bookshelf and traces a finger along the spines of the marketing titles.

  “Don’t reschedule.”

  “You realize I’m twenty. Everyone else has already had sex.”

  “Just like there’s no one time to start working or get married or have kids, there’s no one time to have sex.” I set the cupcake on the corner of my desk and fold my arms.

  “Why. Did your first time mess you up?” Lil asks, heading back to the middle of my carpet.

  Vi and I used to talk about everything, but because Lil is so much younger, we never had that kind of relationship. But the way she’s looking at me, as if it’s more than a smartass question, has me reconsidering.

  I can tell her, or keep her in the dark.

  I’ve always tried to protect my little sister, not wanting her to be exposed to the world in case she leaves like Vi did.

  But I don’t want to keep this secret anymore.

  “Not my first time. But one time, yes. Sex can be important,” I admit, and her eyes brighten. “It can change everything.”

  “You mean like sex with Ben.” She jumps on it, and I sigh.

  “Yes. Like sex with Ben.”

  The entire way back from the Vineyard, it was all I could think about, even with him next to me.

  I’m still shivering.

  Lily’s eyes are bright with excitement as she runs forward, grabbing my arms. “This is amazing. You realize that.”

  Her enthusiasm has me biting my cheek. “It’s complicated, because this weekend wasn’t the first time Ben and I slept together."

  My sister shakes her head in confusion. “Wait. What the hell are you talking about?”

  "Ben and I slept together once in college. Only…he didn't know it was me."

  I don’t know if I expected hearing the words aloud would set me free. If I did, it doesn’t happen. But Lily was honest with me. I'm going to be honest with her.

  Her disbelief is nothing compared to the feelings that rise up, the ones I always try to shove down.

  “How much did I tell you about when Vi left?”

  “Not much.”

  I sink into the couch at one end of my office, and Lil drops to the edge of the chair facing it.

  "Even though we were different, we’d always gotten along when it mattered. We were both excited about school—I thought for the same reasons. I wanted to be independent, make my own way. But in college, she was an attention-seeking missile.” I remember her with boys, at parties, even with professors. It was as if she could flirt her way to As. “I called her out on it one night during finals. She was going to a party instead of studying the night before her biggest exam. I said she wasn’t being herself and no one would see her for who she was. She told me that was who she was.”

  She’d also said some choice things about me—that I was envious and couldn’t possibly understand how important fitting in was.

  My throat tightens as I continue. “She accused me of judging her for the fact that she'd rather party than study. Which I suppose I was, but at the time, it only made sense. Why would you pay tuition to go to school when you didn’t even care about the education? She told me she’d wanted to travel, to meet people and find herself, and she could find work anywhere along the way, but she’d gone to Columbia because I wanted to and I couldn’t do it without her.

  “I said that was bullshit. But she said I couldn’t possibly know what it was like to be her because I didn’t know her. That it wasn’t what she wore or how she acted that made us different. That we were fundamentally growing apart. I hated that thought," I admit.

  "She stormed off that night. I thought I'd give her way a try. I was angry. I borrowed her clothes, her makeup, did everything I could to look like her. Which wasn't that hard when we had the same hair. I went to a bar intending to get drunk. That’s when I ran into Ben."

  Lily wraps her arms around herself, absorbed in my words. “You guys were friends already."

  “Not really. We'd hung out a few times, and I liked spending time with him." My lips curve at the memory. "He was smart and had this unapologetic 'I'm going to take over the world' thing I envied. But Vi had a crush on him, which meant I stayed away. As far as I knew, she’d never made any progress though, so I didn’t expect him to notice me. But he spotted me that night, came right over. I didn't know he thought I was her. I didn't know until we were in his car together."

  The next breath is hard, made harder by the look of dread on Lily's face.

  "I didn't know until he said her name instead of mine."

  Her hand goes to her mouth.

  The shock is all hers, but the ache, the hurt and rejection and hollowness...

  It’s mine. I feel it as if it’s fresh.

  "Vi left after that. Her things were gone by th
e end of the weekend, and I came home to a dorm room half cleared out.

  “I avoided Ben at first, because I was hurt and embarrassed. But it wasn’t his fault. Not really. I’d wanted to be her. But our friends still hung out. We started hanging out more, and he was just… Ben.” My chest squeezes. “It felt like we kept running into each other.”

  "So you never told him."

  “No.” The same guilt from the other night twists at my stomach. “He asked me once if I’d heard from her, and I told him an unsigned postcard from Paris. He shut down the moment I said the words. He must’ve liked her, Lil. There’s no other reason for him to ask about her. It had been months. I just couldn’t tell him. After everything that’d happened… I didn’t want him to leave me too.”

  Vi would’ve laughed if she’d known—as least if she wasn’t jealous that I’d gotten Ben when she had made it clear she was into him.

  But in the end, like every other guy in my life to that point, he would’ve rather had her than me. If I thought he was different, that somehow he wanted me when he didn’t want her… I was wrong.

  And that had fucked me up for longer than I care to admit.

  “I didn’t know,” Lily murmurs, stretching out her arms.

  I let her hug me, returning the squeeze.

  “Well. That’s why I don’t want you rushing into anything,” I say into her shoulder.

  “In case I sleep with a guy who mistakes me for my twin?” she quips, and I snort.

  “In case you make a mistake you can't forget.”

  She pulls back with a frown. “What happens next? You have feelings for him.”

  “He doesn’t have them for me. At least not in the same way.”

  “You don’t know that,” she argues. “Maybe he just needs evidence he can’t ignore.”

  The phone on my desk dings, and I go to retrieve it. Lily follows, peering over to glance at the screen as I unlock it.

  “The photographer’s pictures from the wedding shoot,” I explain as I pull them up and flip through.

  They’re good, thank God. Aiden looks like he’s in the moment, as if whatever his bride said to him finally sank in.