Oliver

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With a jolt, Arlo breaks our kiss. I have the urge to pull him back into me, but there's a look in his eyes like a deer in the headlights, so I follow his petrified gaze.

Oliver.

They're identical in facial features, though Oliver's eyes are hard; there's a glint in them, something mischievous. His hair is cropped shorter, still thick, but not quite as curly. He doesn't sport earrings like Arlo, but his whole right arm is covered in a colorful tattoo sleeve. It disappears beneath his shirt and sprouts out again on his neck.

"This is what you've been hiding?" Oliver says cooly, giving me a disapproving once-over.

I quickly glance down at myself; oversized black T serving as a dress (featuring a worn ACDC logo, courtesy of Dad's closet, which I managed to raid before moving), bright white bike shorts peeping out just beneath the hem, and a well-broken in pair of Birkenstocks. Not my best day, sure, but I did manage to put on some makeup this morning and my skin has been doing really well—I also got my hair trimmed last weekend with Lila, who treated us both to a spa day.

"I'm not hiding," Arlo disagrees. "Wren and me, we're just..."

Just what? Friends? Study-buddies? I knew it—someone drop-dead gorgeous handsome couldn't look at me like he does and still hold the same feelings I do. I mean, he kept me from his brother, didn't he? Is he embarrassed? Something cold slides into my chest.

Arlo glances at me, takes in my expression. Then, with resolve, finishes: "We're getting to know each other."

Getting to know each other. Courting, if we were in an old romance novel. The phrase feels like he's saying more than friends, even if he didn't say that outright. Even though it's ambiguous, I can't stop the small smile that tugs at my mouth.

Oliver, though, laughs a humorless laugh. "How sweet."

His voice sends goosebumps up my arms, but not in the good way.

"Stop, Ollie," Arlo says in a quieter voice, one I've never heard him use.

Oliver stops his laughing, his smile fades. He looks at me again, then back to his brother. "Okay. Forgive me, I didn't realize you wanted to play keep-away."

Arlo sighs, running a hand through his hair to push his bangs out of his face. "I'm not playing."

I have a weird feeling they're speaking in some sort of twin-code, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't intrigued.

"What's your name?" Oliver asks me, leaning forward across the table to get a better look at me.

"Wren," I answer, having a weird sort of déjà vu from when Arlo first asked me.

"I'm Oliver," he says, sticking a hand out for me to shake.

I take it without hesitation. His grip is firmer than Arlo's, but doesn't hold the same kind of warmth. "I've heard a lot about you," I lie.

This earns a laugh from Arlo.

Oliver releases my hand with a final squeeze and nods, a smirk playing on his lips. "What are you doing tonight, Wren?"

"She's got plans with her sister," Arlo says immediately, giving my leg a little pinch beneath the table.

I nod in agreement.

"Shame," he tisks, throwing Arlo a look. He straightens up and looks between us. "Raincheck, then. Can't wait to learn all about baby brother's little secret."

His gaze says exactly that, and before he turns and walks out of the coffee shop he adds, "Cute necklace."

I glance down at my little star pendant.

Arlo leans back into the booth, and I note the distance he puts between us, as if Oliver is still watching. "I'm sorry."

"Is he always like that?"

Arlo takes a second to answer. "Lately, yeah. Not so much when we were younger."

I imagine a younger Arlo and Oliver, playing together and laughing. It doesn't seem quite right. "How did he even find us?"

Arlo closes his eyes tight and runs a hand through his hair. "It's my fault. I forgot to turn off my location."

"He tracks you?" I can't keep the surprise out of my tone. Lila is as protective as older sisters come, but even she wouldn't do that.

He nods, letting out a small laugh, as if keeping tabs on him is the least offensive of Oliver's behaviors. He peeks at me. "Wouldn't blame you if you got up and walked out of here right now."

We're getting to know each other.

In response I lean into him, letting my body rest against his side. I kiss the side of his neck gently and his hand slides up my thigh.

"Why—" I begin tentatively, "Why didn't you tell him about me?"

He pulls away slightly to look at me. "I was playing keep-away. He called me out on it but I wasn't about to admit it."

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. "What's keep-away? Like the kid's game?"

He laughs. "We learned to share the second we were born—and from then on shared everything, you know? We didn't have much when we were younger so we had to out of necessity. But keep-away, that was an excuse to claim something for ourselves. Only it doesn't stay that way when the other one finds out. I was never good at it. Still not, I guess. Once I introduced you two, there was no going back to having you just for myself."

I want to know more about this game, about other games they play, but I have the feeling he isn't up for talking about his bond with Oliver at the moment. There's a storm lurking in his eyes, a sort of tension I haven't seen in him before. It's similar to when he told me he'd never taken a class without his brother. But this is more intense, and I don't like it.

I wriggle my eyebrows to draw him out. "So... you do want me all for yourself?"

The storm breaks and he laughs. His hand on my thigh grips a little tighter, and it sends a thrill up my spine. "Yeah, I can admit that to you."

An odd surge of satisfaction pulses through me.

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