I'll Be Holding on to You

twin telepathy

I was smelling Erika's sweater when she walked in the room a few days later. I totally jumped.

"Are you smelling my sweater?" she asked, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.

"Clean enough," I said, tossing it into a random pile of clothes in my floordrobe and hoping she couldn't hear my heart pounding. I picked up a shirt of mine I knew was clean and smelled it, tossing it onto her sweater.

She regarded me for another few moments and shook her head. "It's actually dirty. Dirty pile. If you have one." She smirked. "Going, that is. Other than the general floor."

"Yeah, yeah." I tossed some more things together for looks.

"So my brother just left for work," she said, flopping on the bed. "He's acting weird."

I gave up on the fake laundry and sat down too. "Weird how?"

She mused, biting the inside of her cheek. She had her red framed glasses on, a dark blue long sleeved shirt that was mine, and beautifully tight in all the right places, and super soft. Boys' plaid pajama bottoms adorned the rest of her. "I don't know," she said, finally. "I can't put my finger on it. He's been gone a lot, I'm pretty sure he's seeing someone, and possibly using some kind of illegal substances."

I was totally surprised. "Wow, have I been totally not in tune or what?"

She put her hands behind her head and I kicked myself inwardly because my eyebrows went up but I tried to make it like that was because of what she was talking about. But, damn, come on. That shirt should have been illegal for her to wear around me if I was expected to keep the desire off my face.

"No, I mean, no one else has noticed it. But you wouldn't, if he didn't want you to."

"True," I admitted. "You just picking it up from twin telepathy?"

She was thinking. I stretched out too, my head next to hers, just so I didn't have to keep worrying about my expression. "I don't know," she said again. "Something. But let's pay attention."

"'K," I agreed, planning on it. "We'd better spread the word."

"'K," she said, but didn't move. "So you happy with Mara?"

I was taken aback. "I mean, sure, I guess. Yeah."

She moved her arms so she could prop herself up on an elbow and give me a look. "That was a fucked answer. I mean you know that, right."

I sighed. "You caught me off guard. Dude, yes, I like Mara. A lot. She's great." It was true. But I sounded unenthusiastic to my own ears. "I'm still thinking about Moey and shit."

"Mmm," she said noncommittally.

"What?"

She gave me a look. "If you would rather have Gage, tell me now. I'll walk away, I don't care."

It took me a second to realize what she meant, and I was touched by her offer. "What? No, no, not at all. Not at all." I mean, I did a little, but I was just answering her question. "Really."

"Really, yourself," she said, shoving me a little. " I want you to be happy."

"I'm happy," I assured her. 

"You wouldn't tell me if you did want him," she grumbled, which was true. 

I paid attention when Moey came home that night around ten. He always had weird hours, going into the bakery either whenever he wanted or whenever they asked him to do a specialty cake or refill the display case. We had never had cause to question it in the four years he'd been helping there but now I wondered.