“Nice to see you as always, Ria.”
I pause and turn my gaze to the half-naked guy in his bed, sheets pooled around his waist, the flickering sunlight from behind me kissing the skin of his chest. Arlo O’Dargan. Aka my brother’s best friend and my long-time frenemy since first school. His deep voice is annoyingly perfect, much like the rest of him. Sun-kissed blond hair, bright topaz-green eyes, and a jawline any model would be jealous of, he could be classed as the perfect guy. Just not to me. I don’t see him like that, not even as I glance at his rock-hard abs and big shoulders. Nope.
Dammit, I got the wrong room again.
I glare at him. “I wish I could say the same, Arlo. I’m surprised you’re even in your own bed and not in some poor girl’s.”
“None of the girls’ beds I join are poor or unhappy, Ria-banana-llama,” he teases and stands up, not giving one shit that he only has boxers on. I sharply turn away and blindly stumble to his door, grabbing the handle.
“And don’t call me that!” I shout back.
“Make me stop then!” he hollers to my back as I slip out of his door and slam it hard behind me, hearing his laugh in the corridor. Taking a few steps, I find the right door and bang on it a few times before opening it up. I flick the light on as I walk in and see my brother snoring in bed. The shower is on, so he isn’t alone (unlucky girl), and I walk right up to him, stepping over messy clothes and empty beer bottles.
“Asshole, wake up!” I shout, kicking his leg that’s hanging out of the bed. He jolts up, brushing a hand through his dark blond hair and relaxing when he sees it is me. For twins, we are pretty different. For one, my brother is well over six foot, and he has brown eyes. He looks like he got all the good genes and I was cut short at some point with my height. And generally, I’m not as popular as he is, mostly because Austin could charm his way out of a lion’s den even if he was a gazelle. I’d definitely be eaten by the lion in under three seconds flat.
“Happy birthday, twin sis!” he holds his hand up for a high five.
“Happy birthday right back to you. Did you forget our plans for breakfast today?” I ask, and his sheepish grin says it all as I high-five him. “Oh, and answer your phone. Mum and dad have been calling and then nagging me because you didn’t answer.”
“Of course,” he replies with a wave of his hand like it isn’t an issue. “Wanna get breakfast now?”
I glance at the bathroom door and back to Austin, arching an eyebrow. “What about your guest?”
“I don’t even know her name, to be honest with you, sis,” he answers, and I pull a face at him as he shoves his shoes on. He writes a quick note for shower girl before hooking his arm around my shoulder and guiding me out of his stinky room. After a short walk to the cafeteria, we both sit down with our coffees and relax.
“The party is at eight. I did remember it’s my year to host,” he states, crossing his arms. One good thing about being a twin? Sharing the responsibility of hosting the party. Last year, I spent months planning a massive rave in an abandoned castle. I damn well hope Austin has come up with something good, or I’m having our next party next year in a farm with pigs. “It’s going to be the most epic party.”
I grin. “Where is it then?”
“On the beach, the left side, you know where there is that cavern?” he questions, and I nod, feeling excited. “Well, be there at eight, sis, and I’ll give you a gift then.”
“I will be there,” I reply, knowing the lazy ass hasn’t been shopping yet and plans to the second he leaves the cafe. I reach into my bag and hand him the small box and the letter that came to me. He pops open the box and pulls out the silver and black bead bracelet I made for him in class. The beads are all made from quartz, our birthstone, and the middle one has his initials carved into it.
“This is seriously fucking awesome,” he tells me, sliding it on his wrist and doing it up. “Did you make it?”
“Yup. Now go and buy me something pink and expensive,” I say, climbing to my feet. “Oh, and make sure there is wine at the party. White wine, I don’t like red.”
“You got it,” he replies, and I chuckle as I leave and head for class. Tonight is going to be epic, that’s for sure.
Chapter Two
For some weird ass reason, my uncle’s warning comes into my mind as I look at myself in the mirror. My pink dress fits my body like a glove, emphasizing all my curves, and my heels make me seem taller than I am at just five foot five. I’ve taken a ridiculous amount of time curling all my hair, only to brush the curls out to make it seem like my hair is naturally wavy. Girl Problems 101. As soon as someone invents a quicker way to get this effect, the better. Still, my uncle’s warning makes me halt and actually almost want to stay in. I mean, he is old and literally insane, but his warning has still creeped me the hell out. I wonder if Austin got one of those cards. I really should have asked him today.
“Are you finally going to live out all the brother’s best friend romance novels I’ve read, and hook up with Arlo?” Soph asks with a small grin, coming out of the bathroom, looking ready to kill in a short leather skirt and a yellow crop top that hides pretty much none of her. Her bright hair is up in a ponytail, and her makeup, although light, is bang on. I can never get my makeup that perfect.
I screw up my face. “You’re gross. Arlo is—”
“Ridiculously hot and single,” Soph interrupts. He might be all those, but that wasn’t what I was going to say. “And he only has eyes for you.”
“You’re just talking out of your arse now,” I mutter, picking up my phone. “Come and take a selfie with me before we leave.”
She chuckles and rushes to my side, and we take several photos before posting them on Instagram. While I’m on there, I find several photos of my brother at the party and the dozens of bottles of white wine he has left on the beach for me. That alone makes me grin as we grab our bags and head out. The dorm is pretty empty of other students as we head down the stairs and out the front doors. The air is cold now, and I instantly wish I had brought a coat, but then again, I will be in front of a bonfire soon, by the looks of the photos. Soph hooks her arm in mine and rests her head on my shoulder as we head down the pathway towards her car. She has rich as hell parents, and their idea of a gift was the shiny new red Land Rover, and I’m the lucky bitch who is her bestie, so I can take full advantage of the heated seats. Soph opens her bag and searches for her keys, and then keeps searching, looking more frustrated by the second.
“Crap, I forgot my phone,” she mutters and pauses, closing her bag with her keys in her hand, the glittery elephant keyring I bought her shining from the street light. “Why don’t you drive my car there, and I will grab an Uber.”
“I can wait for you,” I say, even as I glance at my own phone and see that we are ten minutes late to my own party.
“Nope. Just go,” she says, passing me the keys. “I want to call my mum anyways, check and see how she is doing today.”
She looks down, and I place my hand on her arm, wishing I could help. Her dad buys her cars, and her mum is one pill away from forgetting who she is half the time. Money doesn’t bring happiness, that’s for sure. Soph’s life makes me happy for my middle-class upbringing, everything from the pound ice lollies I loved from the shops to the budget beach holidays in a tiny caravan in Wales.