The Twins & Me

Dirty Liars

I dial Arlo immediately, but his phone just rings and rings. How much does Ollie know? The love part or the part where I begged Arlo to...

I dial Ollie's phone. He answers on the second ring.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't know, little Wren?" His tone is flat. No hello, no sound of surprise.

"What do you know?" There's a genuine fear in my voice, and I don't know what I'm more frightened of—Ollie knowing Arlo loves me and I love him, or that Arlo and I almost had sex without him.

"I've slept in the same room as Baby Brother our whole lives—I know when he gets up to go piss in the middle of the night. When he beats one out. When he checks his phone to see if you've texted him—of course I would know when he'd get up to sneak to see you."

His words send shockwave after shockwave through me. "Ollie, please, it's not—"

"And of course, I couldn't do anything under your parents' roof. But we're under my roof now, aren't we, Baby Brother?"

I grip my phone so tight it hurts. He hid this knowledge so well, all week—there wasn't a moment where I thought he might have known what we did that night. It's positively scary how good he was at hiding it. "Why isn't he answering my call? Ollie? What's going on?"

"Come and find out."

And he hangs up.

I don't like this. I don't like Ollie's tone, or Arlo's lack of response. I don't like that my hair is wet and that I have to Uber over to their place because I don't have a fucking car.

Sunday night, and my ride takes forever to pick me up. I keep trying Arlo's phone the whole ride over, but it just rings and rings.

Ollie wouldn't hurt him, would he? How mad can he possibly be?

It only hits me when I break from the Uber and into their building that I'm just as responsible for this punishment as Arlo is. I try to wrap my mind around the fact that Ollie will want to take this out on me, too, but the only thing I can concentrate on is Arlo.

Arlo, who's not answering his phone.

Arlo, who did the sneaking out.

Arlo, who told me I'm the patty.

Arlo, who gives me the best kisses.

Arlo, who really, honest-to-God loves me.

When I finally reach their apartment door I try the knob and find it open—they never leave their door unlocked. As soon as I enter, I already feel something off. The lights are all on, the boys' bags are in the entryway. Usually their floor is kept spotless, not even shoes are allowed to litter by the front door.

Stepping further inside and met with only silence, I stumble when my shoe crunches on something.

Glass.

Shards of glass litter the hall by the kitchen. The lineup of empty liquor bottles lining the counter are gone; their fragmented bodies lay scattered everywhere.

"Arlo?" I call out, skittering over the remains of their boastful collection.

A bump from down the hallway, and suddenly Arlo comes hurtling out of the dark, loses his footing and slams onto the hardwood. "Wren," he blurts out. His eyes are wild and his hair is a mess when he looks up at me.

As I rush over the shards of glass to get to him, Ollie appears at the mouth of the hallway. I notice immediately his hand is dripping with blood—his blood. The rest of him is flushed, eyes just as wild as Arlo's, except where Arlo has panic Ollie has a hunger. "Maybe Little Wren can give me all the gory details."

"I told you," Arlo says, struggling to stand. He shoves me behind him, away from Ollie. "We didn't fuck."

"Dirty liar," Ollie spits. He points at me, finger stained red. "You think I don't know what she smells like? You came crawling back into that room with her all over you."

I try to get in front of Arlo, but he won't let me by. "It's the truth, Oliver. We didn't do anything without you—I—I swear."

A pained expression comes across his features. "That's a lie, Little Wren. I can see it in those sweet little baby blues of yours. Something did happen that night."

"Only that I told her I loved her," Arlo says in a rush. His hand reaches behind him to grip me, make sure I stay behind him. "I told her I loved her and we kissed. That's fucking it."

That stops Ollie short. He even takes half a step back, the shock on his face plain to see. "You love her?"

Arlo's arm is still protectively over me, shielding me from Ollie's rage—but not his eyes. Not the way his mouth stutters over the word love, or the way he stares right into me as if he's just discovered what that word truly means.

"I do," Arlo says definitively, with determination.

Ollie pauses, eyes darting back and forth between us. "You still broke the rules."

It feels like there's lead in my stomach.

"And you—" Ollie points to me at me again, though he can't look me in the face anymore. "You lied to me."

Now a rage of my own is bubbling inside me. "Fine," I say, finally managing to get around Arlo. "You still want to play your little game of crime and punishment—fine. I was the one who kissed Arlo, I was the one who wanted to fuck him. I'm the one to punish, Oliver."

It's so clear now—Ollie never cared about me at all. Even the few tender moments he gave me, the looks and smiles, real ones, they were all fake. This was nothing to him. I was nothing to him. My own stupidity for ever considering that maybe, maybe he felt something for me and I for him is crushing all around me, like a chunk of me is being tore out.

Ollie's taken aback by my venom. His mouth clamps shut.

"Punish me," I tell him.

His eyes soften for the briefest of moments, so quick that it could've been a trick of the light, but then his body tenses. He reaches for me with that snakelike grip so I don't have time to react, and his hand is clamped around my upper arm. He has me thrown over his shoulder, knocking the wind out of me, and down the hall before Arlo can get to us.

"Ollie!" Arlo shouts.

I'm so stunned by the lack of oxygen I barely comprehend he's taken me to the Den. The lights are off, but he must know where he's going because the next thing I know I'm being tossed onto one of the squishy armchairs like a throw pillow.

Then the slam of the door, the bolt of the lock, and the switch of the lights being turned on.