The layers of Kaid Isherwood (The 1st book in the 'Layers' series)

Chapter 18

Lucan Ashworth's POV

When I woke up that morning, I was... well, shocked. And not the kind of shock you feel when you realize you forgot to set your alarm—no, this was the kind of shock that makes your heart do backflips. I don't usually go around being shocked, so for the sake of accuracy, let's just say it was a big deal.

I opened my eyes, and as per usual, I glanced around the room, half expecting to see some absurd new form of chaos. But this time, something caught my eye—a rather neon piece of chaos. Kaid Isherwood was sprawled out in his bed, but hold the phone, there was one noticeable detail: a neon green cast wrapped around his leg, which seemed to glow like a highlighter. For a second, I thought maybe I was still dreaming, but nope—there it was. Kaid had somehow managed to break his leg overnight. I could've sworn I went to bed and he didn't have a cast. Did I miss a memo? Did someone else break his leg for him in the middle of the night?

Naturally, I needed answers. And how else does one get answers but by waking someone up in the most courteous, polite way possible? Oh, right, by hitting them on their broken leg with a random boot.

And not just any boot. A stripper boot. Yes, you heard me. A stripper boot. Why was it there? Beats me. It was on Kaid's side of the room, so I can only assume he's secretly moonlighting as a footwear connoisseur for exotic dance clubs. But hey, that's not my business. What was my business was waking him up. So, without further hesitation, I took said stripper boot and gently smacked him right on the leg.

Kaid's response was... well, spectacular. He erupted in a tirade of curse words that would make even the most hardened sailor blush. His mouth opened, and it was like a profanity cannon going off. The kind of words you can't even repeat in polite company. Honestly, I was impressed. He woke up, though, so mission accomplished.

He glared at me, and I'm pretty sure I saw the lasers in his eyes. It was like staring into the fiery depths of a sun. I was pretty sure I'd need sunglasses for the rest of my life after that look.

"Why do you have a broken leg?" I asked, unable to hide my curiosity. He sat up, his arms folded like he was preparing to lecture me, probably about the dangers of interrogating people before coffee.

"I fell down some stairs," he muttered, eyeing me like I was some kind of undercooked steak he didn't want to deal with.

I squinted. Yeah, sure, I didn't buy that for a second. Kaid Isherwood was a pathological liar. And besides, he spends most of his time on steep stairs—if he was going to fall down them, it'd probably have happened years ago. But I didn't feel like calling him out on it, because let's face it, he's probably lying for a reason. He's good at it.

"Well, I'm sure the breakfast table will be thrilled to have you with your broken leg," I said as I took a step closer, just enough to make sure he couldn't hit me with any retaliatory kicks.

"Like hell, you sadistic asshole. What kind of person hits someone's broken leg with a stripper boot?" Kaid was seething now, his voice sharp enough to cut through steel.

"Apparently, your roommate." I grinned, because I'm a great friend like that.

I grabbed him and hauled him out of the bed, ignoring the sounds of protest. His protests, by the way, were priceless.

"No! Set me down, you stupid wanker! I'll kill you and sell your blood on the black market!" he shrieked. Which, in case you didn't know, is definitely not what you want to hear from your roommate in the morning.

I continued walking down the hall with him in my arms, dodging his flailing limbs and increasingly ridiculous threats.

"It's too late for that, Kaid," I said nonchalantly, like I wasn't carrying a guy who was about to murder me for, you know, hitting his broken leg with a stripper boot.

At some point, Kaid begged me to get his crutches, and like the decent human being I am, I ignored his pleas for a good five minutes. Hey, the world isn't about instant gratification, okay?

We made it to the breakfast table, where almost everyone was already seated, including Kain—Kaid's so-called twin. Yeah, that's right, twin. The guy who looks like Kaid but less of a disaster. Kain looked at us with a smirk, clearly enjoying my misery.

"Ah, Kaid," Kain said, as if the sight of a broken leg was an everyday occurrence for him. "I see I don't have to drag you to the breakfast table anymore."

Kaid didn't even look in his direction. If anything, he looked like he was about to combust.

"What? Is there a rat in here?" Kaid sneered, eyes darting around like he'd spotted an invader.

Then, in the most Kaid way possible, he turned back to me. "If you try to feed me, I'll bite your hand off."

"Oh, I'll hit you with a stripper boot to wake you up every morning until your leg heals," I shot back with a devilish grin. Because, honestly, what's more fun than making your roommate's life hell before breakfast?

That's when Kain decided to open his mouth again, and this time, it wasn't about the food. "Oh, by the way, Kaid," he began, as Kaid froze mid-growl, "why did you have a stripper boot last night?"

The entire room went silent as Kaid's face turned fifty shades of fury. He slowly turned toward Kain, and for a second, I thought he might actually combust on the spot.

Kain held up his phone, and on the screen was a news report about the infamous Starfish Stripper—who just so happened to be Kaid. The video clearly showed Kaid in his starfish costume, rocking stripper boots like it was the most natural thing in the world. And there it was. The truth about Kaid's broken leg.

"KAIN!" he roared as he lunged at Kain, snatching the phone and launching it across the room. It shattered like a glass slipper after a bad date.

"Well, if you don't know me, how do you know my name?" Kain teased, casually brushing a lock of hair from his face.

Kaid shot him a glare so icy, I think it dropped the room temperature by about ten degrees. "I don't have a twin brother," Kaid muttered, clearly pretending this entire thing wasn't real.

That's when the bombshell dropped. Kain grinned like a cat who'd just eaten the canary. "Oh, by the way, I think I should introduce myself properly. I'm Kain Licanian. Kaid is my twin brother. He took up our mom's maiden name when he was eight."

I froze. Twins? I looked at Kaid, and for the first time, I saw a tiny crack in his impenetrable façade. He didn't even look at Kain. He just hobbled away, crutches in hand, his expression colder than an igloo in Antarctica.

I don't know why, but for a split second, I felt bad for Kaid. But only for a second. Because if there's one thing I've learned in this absurd dorm, it's that Kaid Isherwood doesn't do sympathy.

At least not from me.

Kaid, you're a mystery wrapped in a neon green cast.