A nervous laugh pops from my lips. “No, no. Definitely not.”
They trade a glance.
“Come on.” Ophelia loops one arm with mine. “You’re coming with us.”
“No, I—”
“Don’t protest,” Odette orders, attaching herself to my other side, so I’m effectively sandwiched between them. “We haven’t seen you in, like, ages. We’re going back to our place.”
Ophelia squeals again. “Girl’s night!”
“But—”
“No morebuts, Valentine.”
“It’ll be fun, we promise!”
“Our parents are away in France for the summer. Plus, we have a metric ton of wine in the cellar just begging to be consumed.”
“You can tell us all about whatever stupid boy made you cry.”
“And then we can decide how best to punish him!”
I sigh as they drag me out of the store, into the night. I don’t bother putting up any more resistance as we walk across the parking lot, where their bubblegum pink Land Rover is parked beside my classic green convertible; a fittingly odd reflection of our mismatched friendship. I know from experience, it’s futile to deny the Wadell twins when they’ve fixed their sights on something. And, tonight, that something seems to be me.
* * *
Less than an hour after following the twins back to their house — a massive Tudor-style brick mansion with a series of soaring gabled roofs and a facade of dark timber framing — I’ve got a glass of priceless Dom Pérignon from the Wadell wine cellar in one hand and a store-brand yellow gummy bear in the other.
A perfect pairing.
Ophelia and Odette are sprawled on opposite sides of the enormous white leather sectional that dominates their parents’ living room, staring at me with identical expressions of incredulity as I catch them up on all that’s happened since I last saw them.
Geneva.
Oliver.
Brown.
Cupid.
Chris.
Archer.
When I finally trail off into silence, I take a large gulp of champagne for strength. The bubbles dance over my tongue and down my throat, exploding in my empty stomach like liquid fireworks. For a long while, the twins are quiet, sipping their own champagne as they process the load I’ve just dropped on them.
“Wow,” Odette says finally, draining her last bit of Dom. “That’s—”
“Intense.” Ophelia blows out a puff of air. “Especially the shit with Archer. No wonder you left. If I were you, I never, ever would’ve come back here.”
“I told you, I have to make a decision about Brown.” I shrug with a calmness I do not feel inside. “Otherwise, I probably would’ve stayed away forever.”
“You know what? Screw that. And screw Archer Reyes,” Odette says, sitting suddenly upright. “No idiot guy should have the power to scare you away from your home.”
“Or to keep you away from your friends!” her twin adds. “He’s not worth it. Especially when you have a new hottie to occupy your days!”
“And nights.” Odette winks.