Page 63 of The Casanova Complex

I get to Merritt’s five minutes early. With how stabby I know she gets about people being late, I’ve quickly learned my lesson.

I ring the doorbell and step back on the porch, shoving my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants. It’s an unusually cold night for late October in NOLA, in the fifties, so I threw on a hoodie and sweatpants since I knew we’d be outside most of the night.

A few moments later, the door swings open, and it’s not Merritt on the other side but a younger, boy version of her.

They have the same shade of dark hair and upturned nose. But it’s the cool stare he pins me with that is the copy and paste of his older sister. Wary and guarded.

“Who are you?” he asks, his hand curled around the edge of the door like he hasn’t decided whether or not he’s going to close it in my face.

Yeah, this is Merritt’s little brother. For sure. If the fact that they’re identical didn’t already give it away.

“Bennett,” I say back. “Who are you?”

He eyes me for a second before he responds. “Elliott. You’re my sister’s boyfriend.”

I nod. “I am.”

I’m thinking this might be some kind of test, and I’m hoping like fuck I pass if it is.

I respect it though.

“What are you supposed to be?” he asks.

“Uh…” I say, glancing down at the OU Hockey hoodie I just threw on, not realizing we were going to be dressing up. It was the first clean one I had in my closet. “A hockey player?”

Elliott squints, his gaze dropping to the front of my hoodie as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Original.”

My lip twitches. “Yeah, fair. In my defense, your sister shot down my idea of Shrek and Fiona.”

“Lame. She wouldn’t have even had to dress up since she’s a troll every day,” he says with a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips.

A laugh slips out of me, and I shake my head.

I like this kid already.

“What are you supposed to be?” I nod toward the long, black robe thing he’s got on.

He pulls a mask out from behind the door and holds it up to his face.

“Ah. Ghostface. A slasher classic. I like it.”

“Watch this,” he murmurs from behind it, and a second later, fake red blood pours down the inside of the mask. “It has a blood pump.”

“That’s so sick. Yeah, your costume is way better than mine, man.”

Elliott tugs it away from his face, and there’s a wry grin sitting on his lips that feels like a stamp of approval of some sort. “Thanks. Wanna come in?” He holds the door open wider, and I nod, stepping past him into the small foyer.

Pictures of Merritt, Elliott, and their dad line the walls in mismatched frames, but I realize there aren’t any photos of their mom, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s in their lives. I’ve never heard Merritt talk about her, but then again, it’s not like I know much about her outside of the things I’ve observed.

She’s not much for volunteering things about herself or her life.

“So you’re coming with us tonight?” Elliott asks from behind me, and I spin to face him, nodding.

“Yeah. I’m pumped. How do you feel about Reese’s?”

He shrugs. “Eh. I’m more of a Snickers kinda guy.”

“Sweet.” I chuckle. “Well then, I’ll take them off your hands. I’d get them myself, but ya know, I think I’m a little too old.”