I push through the glass doors with the casual confidence of my twin brother, letting my eyes sweep over the open space. Pop music is pounding from the speakers, entertaining the crowd that is exclusively made up of SBU players. After secretly playing with them for two weeks, I can put a first name to each of them, greeting a few with a fist bump in passing and repeating my story about the forgotten swimming trunks.
Taylor offers me his pair, and I flip him off with a genuine laugh.
I’m not here for the jokes, though.
Finally, I spot Xander on the bench press in the far corner. Headphones cover his ears, and I can only imagine the horrible screaming he exposes himself to for fun. He’s currently benching 200 lbs like he’s doing a warm up.
“Show-off,” I mutter under my breath as my eyes trail over his arms. Ropey veins stand out whenever he pushes the bar up. Hedoesn’t look like he needs any assistance, yet I step up behind the bench as if I intend to spot him.
At first, he doesn’t take much notice, but on his next rep our gazes lock.
His black lashes flutter before his eyes widen, then narrow the next second. Without hesitation Xander locks the bar back into place and sits up, hands pushing the headphones down so they dangle around his neck.
I grimace at the high-pitched screaming sound followed by a hard guitar riff.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” he hisses, and my breath hitches in my throat. Okay, so apparently my brother and his best friend aren’t on great terms right now.
“I forgot my swimming trunks and–”
“Don’t fuck with me, Nicko. What is this?! You two arenotdoing this shit again!”
I gape at him as he calls me by my name, too shocked to keep up appearances. My hands instinctively fly to my face, searching for what gave me away.
“I–” I start, then break off, my eyes roaming our surroundings. The other Bats are still standing together in small groups, more interested in chatting and chirping than actually working out. None of them is paying us any attention.
“Don’t lie to me, Nicko,” Xander warns, the blue of his eyes flashing with outrage. “Where’s Nate?”
“How do you know it’s me?!” I can’t help it, Ihaveto ask. I thought of everything. Hell, I even made an effort to pull a pair of Nike socks up all the way over my calves, just as my brother does.
“Was it the outfit? Damn, I should have packed that new shirt Nate gave me for Christmas,” I think out loud, honestly at a loss here.
Xander cuts me off with a huff.
“Please. It’s just the way you–” but he doesn’t finish that sentence. Instead, he frowns at me, then gestures vaguely with his hand, encompassing my whole appearance. “It’s all of this. Your eyes have these little golden specs, and you always jut out your chin. Also, you move differently somehow. You...you just don’tfeellike Nate. I can’t explain it. Hell, you don’t even smell like him!”
“Of course I smell like him, we use the same fucking shampoo,” I object, baffled by his explanation. I spent two weeks without him noticing I was posing as my brother, and now he’s coming up with all these points of how we’re actually different?!
“Gotta be the deodorant,” I murmur as I lift an arm to give myself a good sniff.
Xander raises his brows at me, then barks out a laugh. “It’s not the deodorant! Unless you can like...bottle up the smell of winter.”
“Winter?!”
“Hush,” Xander reprimands me as my shriek earns us a few stares from across the gym. “Whatareyou doing here now? I swear if you think you can spy on us–”
I roll my eyes. “That again.”
“Well?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. The answer is right there, on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t get it out. I lick over my lower lip. My mouth is so dry it feels like I swallowed a handful of sand.
“Nicko?” Xander prompts gently, and there’s a spark of annoyance in my belly. He knows. Hemustknow, right? So why’s he making me say it?!
I push out the air in my lungs in one big sigh, rubbing both hands over my face.
“I missed you,” I finally say, the words barely audible over the music. But once the confession is out, there’s more to follow: “Ineeded to see you. I didn’t want to hang out with the rest, and I kept thinking about–”
Xander doesn’t give me a chance to finish. He’s on his feet and rounding the bench in the blink of an eye, his fingers closing around my wrist like a vise.