Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,64
him to break for the millionth time.
I let my eyes wander from my glass to his side of the table. He’s sitting board-straight against his chair, and he’s wearing the same outfit of dark jeans and a gray T-shirt that he wore to work today. I feel a tad silly for changing before meeting him. Denim shorts and a black tank top aren’t exactly dressy, but I don’t want to come off like I’m trying too hard.
“You look handsome.”
He blinks, then squints, giving off the impression he’s confused.
“I think you’re handsome,” I repeat.
“Oh. Thanks.” He tucks a loose curl behind his ear and cranes his neck to the side. He’s flustered and it’s adorable. “You’re very pretty.”
I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pay me a compliment just because I gave you one.”
He frowns. “That’s not it at all. I’ve always thought you were pretty. It’s just not professional to tell your coworker that during office hours.”
“Um, thank you,” I stammer. “But if that’s true, why were you so hostile to me for so long?” And there’s the million-dollar question.
“I’m an asshole.” He says it dismissively, like it’s a no-brainer.
I reach across the table and set my hand on top of his. “Don’t deflect. Talk to me.”
His chest rises and falls with a single slow breath. “Nicer folks would probably call me an intense introvert.”
“I kind of noticed that.”
“You remember how I said my sister Natalie and I are total opposites? That’s putting it lightly. She’s Miss Congeniality. The most welcoming, friendly person you’ll ever meet. Everyone loves her. She’s been like that our entire lives. I don’t hold a candle to her.” He swallows hard, and I’m hypnotized by the way his throat moves. It makes me ache.
“It’s okay if you’re not like your sister. You’re two different people. No one expects you to be exactly the same just because you’re twins.”
“Tell that to my parents. And the rest of my family. And most people who know us.” He rubs the side of his face. “I have a few people I’m close to. My sister; Brendan, the doctor from the hospital; a couple of other people. That’s it. Going out, meeting new people, it’s exhausting. I’d rather get a prostate exam. During parent-teacher meetings in school, my teachers consistently complained to my parents that I never participated in class discussions. I had a hard time making friends. I still do.”
I’m overcome with the urge to console him, to tell him he is wonderful just the way he is, but I stay silent. He’s opening up to me, and I don’t want to interrupt. Instead, I keep hold of his hand.
“My whole life everyone—mutual friends, teachers, coaches, relatives—everyone made it a point to remark to me how different I was from my sister. They’d always have this bewildered look on their face, like they couldn’t believe we were siblings, let alone twins. It made me think there was something wrong with me.”
There’s no anger or bitterness in his voice when he explains. Only the slightest bit of embarrassment coating his words.
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.” I squeeze his hand, hoping I’m giving him some comfort.
“I know that now. I didn’t as a kid, though. It’s tough when you’re little and almost everyone you meet raves about your much more pleasant sibling, then makes a comment about how you’re the polar opposite.”
Letting go of his hand, I caress his perfectly stubbled cheek. He turns his head to kiss my palm.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” When he smiles, I want to take a photo and keep it forever. Such a far cry from the way he used to look at me. When I close my eyes, I can recall perfectly the harsh expression on his face the day we met. It could blast nails from concrete. It’s nothing like the way he looks at me now.
“Honestly, I could have handled all that fine if my parents weren’t part of it. Over and over my whole life they always said, ‘Why can’t you be more like your sister?’ That sort of malarkey. They didn’t understand me or my personality. They still don’t. We argued a lot. They thought it was simple to go out and make friends or be friendly and talkative like Natalie, but it’s a huge obstacle for me. It’s like they took my introversion as an insult to them. I was never as fun loving or affectionate toward them as my sister was, but believe me when I say