troubled | e.d.

twenty-three

ethan

"wait, no i need the flour," tessa yanks the measuring cup from my hands, and i scoff.

"excuse me? this may be a competition, but no need to be rude."

she giggles, scooping a half a cup of flour and dumping it into a mixing bowl. we decided that she would make cookies, and i would make brownies. loser has to do the winner's filing at the office.

i notice that i feel myself being vulnerable.

usually i have a pretty tough shell, but tessa has been able to crack it ever since the beginning, and i feel myself softening up every day. if i were 18 again and looking at where i'd be in a year, i'd laugh.

i never really took interest in a lot of girls in high school because none of them seemed like they shared the same mindset as me. they all had dreams and goals. while tessa does as well, she doesn't try and push me to create some of my own. i like that.

i even realize that i was never this open with my own twin brother, which is weird to think about. i've known tessa for less than a summer, and yet she's already pried more information out of me than anyone else in my life.

sometimes i'll start to make fun of myself in my head when i find myself staring at her, or wanting to say something that would be considered cheesy by many people like me. but those thoughts always get pushed away when i realize i'm thinking them for a reason.

"hey ethan, guess what?" she says in a sing songy voice, dancing a little to the sink.

"what?"

"you have been here for an entire hour, and we still haven't gotten caught."

"wasn't it you who said something about me jinxing it upstairs?"

tessa laughs, dropping the dirty dishes into the sink and turning on the water. i check the clock, making note of the time. 9:09.

i'm absolutely terrified that mary-anne will just burst through the door at any moment, but i have a feeling tessa's smarter than that. she knows mary-anne better than i do, and i'll take her word for when she'll be home.

"tessa?"

"what?" she asks, licking a spoon of cookie dough and hopping to sit on the counter with a bag of chocolate chips.

"what do you think i could do... to like... get your dad to like me?" i ask nervously, scratching the back of my neck.

she tilts her head, seeming to be in thought. after a couple moments, she licks her lips of cookie dough and says, "well, i don't think he hates you, if that makes it any better?"

"it doesn't."

"okay," she nods, starting to think again. "well... i don't know. there's not much you can do now. stay out of trouble? make sure your case doesn't get re opened?"

i swallow at the last one. "tess..."

her eyes look so innocent staring back at mine all curiously. "what?" she asks softly.