I cut the thread and tuck the scissors away. “Won’t or can’t?”
She narrows her eyes at me again, and I get it. She doesn’t like prying eyes, but all this avoidance isn’t helping her one bit.
In a moment of brazen courage, I place my hand on top of hers. “Let me help you … please.”
With widened eyes, she leans back as her lips part, eyes darting between my hand and me.
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door, and Sunny immediately retracts her hand. I turn my head the second the door opens.
“Um, sorry for interrupting, but Mom’s asking who was at the door, and I don’t know how to answer her without lying to her face,” Aspen says. “I’ve been holding her off for now, but it won’t be long until she starts searching the house.” She looks at Sunny and a know-it-all smirk slowly forms on her face. “Hi, by the way.”
Sunny just raises her brow. That’s it. No wave, no hi, no nothing.
Aspen tilts her head and glances at the wound I just sutured. “Are you okay? That looks gnarly.”
Sunny swiftly pulls her tank top back down. “I’m fine.”
“Please don’t tell Mom about this,” I say.
Aspen makes a locking key symbol near her mouth. “My lips are sealed.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“As long as you give me all the details later, of course.” She winks.
“No,” Sunny says resolutely. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s sensitive,” I add. “Please, Aspen. Just do this one thing for me.”
She sighs. “Okay, fine. But don’t ask me to lie to my family.”
“I’ll see myself out as quickly as possible,” Sunny says. “Don’t worry.”
“All right, don’t forget your pizza downstairs, Xav.”
“I won’t.”
Aspen winks. “Good luck.”
We both wait until Aspen finally closes the door to breathe out a sigh of relief.
I swear, if we weren’t twins, I would’ve probably killed her a dozen times already just out of the sheer embarrassment she puts me through just because she’s sniffed out a possible love-match.
As if that could ever happen.
Sunny is amazing, but a girlfriend? No, she would never agree to that, not with anyone, and definitely not … me.
She clears her throat and gets up from the tub, straightening herself.
“Don’t stretch too much. It might open the sutures,” I say. “What about the wound on your arm?”
She grabs her jacket off the floor and throws it over her shoulder. “It’s just a scratch. I’ll see myself out since I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
The moment she waltzes off, I grab her arm and make her stop. “Don’t go, please.”
She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t say a word, but the fact alone that she stops and doesn’t push me away speaks volumes.
“You can stay as long as you’d like,” I add, glancing at her face from the side.
