Life With The Twist Boys

Im so jealous

Guess what back, back again☺️
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"I have never been so jealous of someone," Taylor announced. It was Saturday night and we were all lying in my bed, our elbows pressed up against one another. It was cramped on the single mattress. Taylor had brought Kian along without warning me—and squishing four bodies onto the limited space was difficult.

I'd just finished telling them about the tour of the ranch Zayn gave me yesterday, something I promised to divulge only after we finished our art project. Kian was surprisingly helpful; she knew exactly how to rein in his friends and refocus their attention when they got distracted. Even so, my gossip seemed to work as perfect motivation for Taylor and Kylie.

"Oh, good God," said Kylie. Untangling herself from the rest of us, she grabbed a pillow from the head of my bed, tossed it on the floor, and situated herself on top of it. "Why can't one of the Twist boys take me on a date?"

"It wasn't a date. It was a tour," I said, correcting her. "Which, I might add, Zayn only gave me because was being a jerk."

"You went horseback riding and watched the sunset together," Taylor said, sliding down next to Kylie. There was a half-finished bowl of popcorn abandoned few feet away, and she scooped up a handful. "That's a straight-out-of-a-book example of a romantic date."

"What do you think, Kian?" Kylie asked, holding her hands out to inspect her nails. The bright blue polish was chipped on every finger.

"About what?" Kian asked without looking up from the pages of the comic book spread out in front of her. During our boy gossip, he stayed quiet and stuck to reading. Kylie tried to pull him into the conversation with occasional questions, but Kian  had a knack for dismissing them immediately. He would offer a few quick words and wave his hand for effect before returning to his comics. It was a talent I had yet to master, because whenever I tried to wiggle my way out of a question, I dug myself into a deeper hole.

"You think the tour counted as a date?"

"Louis was the one who was there," Kian said. "He would know best."

"That is such a lame answer," Kylie  said. "Louis, do you have any nail polish?"

"Sure." I jumped up from my bed, glad for the change of subject. "Do you need remover too?"

"And some cotton balls."

I opened my closet, looking for the heavy box that I knew was inside.

"Whoa," Taylor said, as I pulled back the door. "What's with the rainbow?"

She was referring to the fact that all my clothes were hung color coordinated, from shades of red on one end to the purples on the other.

My cheeks got warm. "Just a habit," I said, locating the nail polish.

After sliding the box out with some difficulty, I dumped it next to Kylie, making the bottles inside rattle together. Everyone was silent as they looked down at the huge, cardboard moving box that was filled to the top with every color imaginable.

Eyes big, Kylie looked up at me. "Is that all?" she asked sarcastically, air puffing out of her mouth in disbelief.

"For real," Taylor added, sliding next to Kylie so she could get a better look. She dug her hand into the box and plucked out a bright red. "Planning on dropping out of school and starting your own salon?"

I shook my head. They weren't mine. Lottie had been obsessed with painting her nails the way Taylor was obsessed with the Twist boys. She put on new color every day to match whatever outfit she was wearing. Her collection of polish was always scattered about the house, stuffed in drawers and cabinets or whatever space she could find. It got to the point that my mom had to set up a vanity in Lucy's room specifically so she would have a space to do her nails. Regardless, bottles would pop up every now and then, tucked between the couch cushions or under a bookshelf where they had rolled and been forgotten.

She was always trying to paint my nails too, but I didn't like the way the polish chipped after a few hours, making my fingers look unkempt. "Louis," she would tell me, "doing your nails is like making a personal statement. Each color can say something different about you and your mood."

I always thought it was silly—blue was blue, and pink was pink. Not tranquil or melancholy or cheerful. Even so, when Anne helped me pack my belongings, I couldn't leave the nail polish behind. I swiped all of the bottles off the top of her vanity into a box so I could take some of Lottie with me to Colorado.

"I don't really use them," I said, showing off my plain fingers. "They were my sister's." The statement slipped off my tongue casually, but everyone went silent. When I realized what I had said, the meaning behind my words, my shoulders went stiff.

"Well," Kylie said slowly as she selected a dark purple, "this is quite the impressive collection."

"Definitely," Heather agreed, shaking the bottle against her palm. "Want me to do your nails, Jackie?"

She unscrewed the cap, and I realized what I liked so much about these girls. They knew about my family, that much was evident from the first time I met Heather, and they loved to gossip, yet they never once broached the subject. It had come up through offhand comments that I didn't realize I was making, but these girls maneuvered around them gracefully, as if I hadn't said anything.

"Why not?" I told Heather, dropping down next to her and tucking my legs underneath me.