Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Revenge might be a little harsh,” I amend because it sounds harsh. “I meant…it might be fun to get back at him for lying to both of us.” She’s playing it cool, but there’s no doubt in my mind she’s pissed off.
I take a deep breath and look at Daisy, hoping she won't think I'm a dick for suggesting this. "So here's what I’m thinking," I begin. "What if we pretend you and I are into each other to get back at my brother? To see how he'll react."
And to teach him a lesson.
Dude needs one, acting like a fool.
“You and me?” Daisy's eyes widen in surprise, then she starts to grin. "Yes. That's actually genius," she says, nodding enthusiastically.
“I thought so too. Imagine how pissed he’ll be when he realizes we’re fucking with him.”
She considers this. “Unless he isn’t interested in me and he’s happy for you.”
The idea doesn’t seem to thrill her. “I really thought I liked you. Him. I love the idea of making him pay for his idiocy as much as the next girl, but at the same time…what if it backfires?”
I shrug. “It won’t.”
If my brother went on a date with this girl—and kissed her at the end of it—it means he likes her. My brother doesn’t get involved with women, ever. He keeps his distance.
So the fact that he hasn’t distanced himself from Daisy—even if he says it’s for my best interest—tells me something entirely different: Drake likes Daisy.
Now I just need to convince her to play along.
“Here’s what we’ll do…”
twenty-one
daisy
It’s not you, it’s me. I need to stop dating losers.
He deserves it.
It’s not like we’re doing anything terrible; we’re teaching Drake Colter a lesson.
Lying on my bed, I stare at the ceiling, grateful that both my roommates are gone so I can think, uninterrupted.
Drake.
It’s weird thinking of him by this new name, considering I’ve been calling him Drew this entire time. No, not a new name—just a different name…Same person.
But…
Dishonest.
Do his lies make me gullible?
Do his lies make me the idiot?
Did his handsome face make me as pathetic as every girl before me begging for his attention?
No wonder that girl came up to the table while we were on our date; she recognized him because of that damn scar in his eyebrow—the scar his brother doesn’t have.
I can’t imagine what was going through her head.
Who was she to him, really?
A girlfriend? A side-piece? Just someone he fucked when he had an itch?
Jocks did that, didn’t they? Fucked a bunch of people?
Don’t stereotype, Daisy.
I wasn’t stereotyping, my insecurities were.
How’s that for honesty?
The whole situation is messed up; the look on poor Drew’s face when I accosted him at the drinking fountain—utter confusion. Him trying to explain that he had no idea who I was, but still trying to be polite.
“I meet a lot of people…”
No shit, he meets a lot of people—the boys are legends, his whole family is. Toss in the fact that Drake and Drew are twins? And identical? And good looking?
Trifecta.
Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought one twin would pretend to be his brother. We are not ten years old. We are adults.
The audacity!
Frowning, I swipe through my phone until I find Drew’s name. Delete E – W and add A – K – E
Drew.
Drake.
Stare at the new data.
Close out my contacts and swipe through to an internet search: Drake Colter.
An entirely new photo gallery of pictures pops up. Whereas Drew’s photos were primary football media coverage, Drake’s are a visual buffet that have my mouth watering, complete with more than a handful of bare midriff ab shots.
He doesn’t have a six-pack stomach. He has an eight-pack.
Tan.
Smooth.
Glistening.
“What do they do to make his skin sparkle, rub him down with oil?” I mutter.
That’s not oil, idiot—that’s sweat.
Moving along, I read his bio. Not that far from his twin’s, it seems they have equally illustrious careers. Same scholarships, same parents, same siblings, same city, state, schools.
But Drake is cockier. Smug.
Sexy.
Everyone knows this.
Cocky, smug, sexy is facts.
As I look at pictures of the guys, arms around one another, posing, it’s clear to me which brother is which, if not by the way they look or carry themselves, but by the eyes.
Clear as day.
Drake’s gaze haunts me from the screen, almost as intense as if he were sitting across from me again at the dinner table.
“I was thinking... how about we go out for some revenge on my brother?" Drew’s words echo in my brain, repeating themselves on a loop, doing nothing to quell the butterflies in my stomach.
“He needs to learn his lesson.” Drew had called me when I’d gotten home to discuss the plan further. “Not that I want revenge on him or anything, but he has to learn to stay out of my business.”
“If you actually wanted to get revenge on him, I’d be seriously concerned.” I’d laughed.