A Taylor Christmas

Chapter 3 - Weirdos

10 days to Christmas

**Aidan's POV**

I think I am adopted. There is simply no other reasonable explanation for this.

How can I possible be related to those two weirdos?

I know that people – with people, I mean Alex and the other oldies – claim that Noah is my twin brother, but I seriously struggle to see any similarities. We don't even really look alike.

Yeah, okay, so maybe we have the same hair color.

Boohoo.

Like that's proof for anything. Sam has the same hair as us, too, and so does Alex. It's not like there are millions of different hair colors out there, anyway, so even if you are not related, there is still a chance that you have the same hair.

I mean, there is nothing else we share. Noah has blue eyes and I have green ones.

Maybe that means he is the one who's adopted?

Unfortunately, I have seen baby pictures of Sam before and if he hadn't been wearing some old fashioned stuff on them, one could easily mistake him for Noah – or vice versa. So those two must share some genes, I guess.

Then there's the mystery of butt face, aka weirdo #2. It's easy to believe that she is related to weirdo #1 (Noah). They're like two peas in a pod. Maybe Alex got something mixed up and the real twins are those two. Again, there is photo evidence that suggests otherwise, but photos can easily be faked.

She has the same eye color as me, however, and that is a bit distressing. I guess it would be a bit of a coincidence if I were really adopted and I shared physical features with both of my weirdo-maybe-siblings.

"Incoming!" Noah shouts.

Half a second later, an object flies past me, narrowly missing my head. I flinch but don't jump aside. I am unfortunately way too used to this. Instead, I turn towards my "twin", who has jumped across the sofa and dashed past me with ninja-style moves to retrieve whatever he has thrown across the room just seconds earlier, and shoot daggers at him.

"What the fuck, you dick!" I yell at him.

"Aidan! Watch the language!" Josh exclaims, hurrying into the living room.

"But he...," I start to protest.

"I don't care. You don't curse like a sailor in this house, understood?"

I turn my head back and glare at Josh now, who is standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, his hands full of various costume making materials. He glares right back at me and, despite myself, I soften my facial features. I am very stubborn and hate to back down, but it is near impossible to win an argument with Josh, like, ever. He's the most stubborn in this family.

My adopted family?

"I'm here, I'm here, I'm here!" butt face suddenly screams, dashing around the corner from the hallway into the living room just as Josh takes a few steps into the room as well.

What happens next is like a scene from a really dumb, bad movie.

Butt face – also currently known as weirdo #2 – runs right into our older brother's path and collides with him. Josh squeals like an old lady and throws everything he has been holding into the air because of the impact. Weirdo #2 is thrown backwards by the force and quite literally sails through the air and lands on the sofa where I am sitting. She bounces once and ends up with half her body falling right on top of me. She lets out an odd sound that seems to be a mixture of a scream and laughter while I react instinctively and shove her backwards, causing her to fall off the sofa and onto the floor with a thud.