Page 240 of The Romance Adventure

“Toots?”

She kicks me under the table.

“Ow. Careful with those tootsies.”

Royal appears and tilts his head toward me. “The two of you have been flirting since you were thirteen, so I’m not sure whether this is a good thing or if I should get the firehose now that you’re seated together at a table in public.”

“Is that what you call flirting?” Harley asks.

“More like taking the snot out of each other.” The words are almost robotic, scripted, so no one thinks we’re a “thing.”

“Don’t make it sound so sexy,” Royal says.

“It’s just proof that we’re frenemies,” Harley adds.

“Welcome to the Driftwood, we hope you’ve enjoyed dinner at the patio,” Royal says, moving past our banter.

“You deserve the atomic elbow,” I mutter.

Royal steps back. “What memory hole did you dredge that one out of?”

“Harley and I have been reminiscing. She was just reading Chip’s will. So not flirting. She’s wildly impressed that he left me a diary.”

“And a pen,” Royal adds.

“A pen with a plume.” Which makes about as much sense as Royal thinking that Harley and I have been flirting. Pshaw.

“By the way, have you read the diary?” Royal asks.

“No. It’s in the safe.”

“Why?” my twin asks.

“To keep it safe.”

“From who? What? Obviously, he wanted you to read it.”

“Even if the printing was anywhere near legible, which it’s not, I can’t read it.” I couldn’t bring myself to.

Harley crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You think we’re that gullible? You can’t read? Really, Ryan? Your brother knows you’re not illiterate. You’re some other kinds of iterate, but not that.”

Royal laughs in public, a rare sight.

“What’s iterate?” I ask.

Harley scowls at me. “I don’t know. It just makes you sound dumb.”

“You sound dumb.”

“You just told us you can’t read,” Harley says, flabbergasted.

I inhale slowly, about to tell them that I can’t bring myself to read it and the handwriting is very fancy, when Royal says, “I’m going to go get the journal from the safe.”

Harley stews with indignation. It comes off her in waves, making the silence between us uncomfortable. We both pick up our phones.

“Wait. That’s mine,” she says.

“Mine now.”