Stand-In Saturday (Love For Days #2) - Kirsty Moseley Page 0,1
reaches out and pats my arm, offering mock support for the metaphorical heartbreak she would have caused. “You would have just been a path to me meeting your brother. Sorry, Theo.”
Ouch.
But I knew her answer before she said it. I’ve always known the answer. Amy and Jared are perfect for each other. Me, on the other hand, maybe I’m destined to be alone because there can’t be two girls out there as great as Amy, surely.
I nod along sadly. “Guess it’s lucky I didn’t then. Imagine if you’d shagged us both and had to live with the knowledge you’d let the brother go who was better in bed. You’d have been devastated and lusting after me at every opportunity. Talk about awkward,” I joke, trying to pretend like her hypothetical rejection didn’t feel like a punch to the solar plexus.
She laughs and slaps my arm as she rolls her eyes. “You wish.”
Correct.
I’m saved from answering as the front door opens, and in walks Heather and her husband, Tim. They’re Amy’s best friends. I grin and offer a salute with my bottle by way of greeting as they let themselves into Amy’s apartment like they own the place. To be fair, we all do it. We’re round here a lot, hanging out, so things like the common courtesy of a call or knock before letting yourself in are a non-existent thought.
Amy pushes herself off the sofa and whistles appreciatively as she looks at Heather. “Damn. You look fit!”
Heather grins, running her hands down her figure-hugging black dress, smoothing the skirt against her thighs. And I have to admit, she does. Tim watches his wife with the self-satisfied, confident air of a guy who knows he’s punching way above his weight. But they’re honestly a great couple, and since they tied the knot just over a year ago, they’ve been walking around in a blissed-out bubble that makes us single folk nauseous.
Glancing over at Tim, who’s wearing smart suit trousers and a baby-blue button-down shirt, I realise I’ve made a glaring error with my choice of attire for tonight’s drinking session.
“Damn it. Were we supposed to dress up? I thought we were just going to the pub for a few cheeky drinks and then a drunken pizza on the way home,” I groan, grimacing down at my worn jeans and faded Jurassic Park T-shirt.
Tim shrugs.
Resigned, I push myself up from the sofa. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I lie.
Without asking permission, I bypass the bathroom and instead head to Jared and Amy’s bedroom. Jared and I are twins. We shared a womb, so borrowing his clothes is my God-given birthright.
As I stalk to the wardrobe, I toe off my trainers and rip open the buttons of my Levi’s. My gaze wanders over Jared’s rows of expensive designer suits, all in their separate garment bags. There’s a clear window at the front of each, so you can see what’s inside without opening them—all the fancy stuff for my brother. I select a dark grey Tom Ford and unzip the bag, shimmying my jeans off before yanking the new outfit on. I ignore his shirts; a T-shirt with a suit is much more my style.
A quick glance in the mirror as I shove my shoes on, and what I see makes me give an appreciative nod. I look good. My light-brown hair is styled, though it is slightly longer than normal, so it flops a little. It looks deliberate though, so I’ll allow it. Jared pays a fortune to get his suits tailored to fit his athletic, lithe, six-foot-two frame, so since we’re pretty much identical (at least physically), they look perfect on me too. It fits in all the right places to show off what’s underneath without actually showing anything at all. Smart and professional, but with the T-shirt and trainers, a little bit of fun and me peeking through.
Just as I’m fussing with my hair again and reaching for Jared’s aftershave, Amy walks in.
“Um, ever heard of knocking?” I joke, chuckling.
“This is my bedroom!” she scoffs before raising one eyebrow. “Does he know you’re borrowing that?”
I shrug one shoulder, uncaring. “He always knows. He just has the sense not to bother trying to stop me anymore.”
Amy playfully tsks her tongue. “You’ll be thirty next month, Theo. You really should buy your own.” She crosses the room, walking over to her dressing table. She picks up her bangles, sliding them on as we make eye contact in the mirror.