Buried secrets, two girls with the same face, and a boy who loved too much.
***
When Travis and Nicole meet on a bus for the first time, he thinks she's his ex, Rachel, who broke his heart two years ago. But he doesn't understand why she's pretendin...
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"WATCHING YOU STAND up to her like that... I think you're really brave."
***
For some reason, being called brave mattered to me a lot. Maybe more than it should. Because I've felt helpless before. Spineless. I've been made fun of, laughed at, and ignored before.
It made me feel small and insignificant, but a brave girl was never small nor insignificant. She was a storm. She was fierce. She was brave. Wins or losses. Praises or sneers. She was brave through it all.
Being called brave mattered to me because it meant I wasn't small or insignificant anymore.
My whole life, only two people have ever called me brave: Laura. And now Travis.
My whole life, I'd been wanting a believer, someone to look past my imperfections and still believe in me. I found the person in Laura. And now, Travis.
I sometimes looked back on the time Laura and I had spent together, and it made me believe soulmates weren't always lovers. Look at Harry and Hermione.
Soulmates come in many forms, and mine came in the form of my cousin.
And Travis, he was the only person who acted like Laura.
What does that make him, then?
"I see you."
"You're way cooler."
"I believe in you."
"I can't wait to tell my friends about my super talented cousin who dances. And one day, when you're on TV, I'll yell to the whole neighborhood to watch you."
Travis and Laura. Two most important people in my life. They were like a parallel, reflecting each other, mirroring each other, both sent to play a role in my life.
Laura had left me with a scar. What would Travis leave me with?
For now, though, he left me with dripping panties, a scattershot of undecipherable emotions, and a racing pulse. Couldn't tell about the future. Could be babies or a broken heart.
You never know.
Travis made me an emotional wreck. He was breaking me slowly to peek into my interior, and with every crack, I felt more and more vulnerable.
I hated the powerlessness that came with it. It was embarrassing, and I wasn't familiar with such raw exposure.
No one had seen me cry since I became an adolescent. Not my mom, not my dad, not my sister, and certainly not my friends, so why him? Why couldn't I keep my well-kept guard around him?
That wasn't all. The vulnerability also left me so helpless I wanted to turn myself over to him. Just like that, with no qualms. Maybe that was what bothered me a little.
