booths upholstered in hot pink vinyl, tables with shiny chrome detailing, and a jukebox that looks like it's straight out of the 1950s.
“How did you know my name?” I ask, and both twins turn back to me. Tobias' scowl disappears, but Micah keeps his firmly in place.
“You told Jeff,” they both say in unison. And then Tobias is scowling again, too. “Jeff is not our favorite person in the world.” They drawl this last part and then exchange another glance before turning back to me. “You shouldn't hang out with Jeff.”
“Yeah, well,” I sputter, because I really hate being told what to do. And on top of that, I feel exposed and nervous and frustrated. “Forget about Jeff for a minute … who are you going to tell?” The words come out of me in a whisper, and the boys exchange another long look.
They turn back to me and lean in, their forearms just above my head.
“Nobody.”
My lips part in shock, and Tobias smiles.
“If they're too stupid to figure it out, that's their problem,” he says, grinning. It only lasts for a second though because Micah scoffs.
“That, and the last girl that went to Adamson ended up dead.” Chills flash through me, and I find myself shivering. I should've worn a damn coat. “Maybe it's a coincidence, maybe not.” He exchanges a look with his brother before turning back to me. “But we're not about to have that worry resting on our shoulders.”
“You think she died because she was a girl?” I ask, and the boys exchange another look.
“Maybe.” Another word said perfectly in sync. They glance down at me, their long, lean bodies stretched over mine, the faintest scent of their shared cologne drifting to me. They smell like cherries, these scented waves of sweet and tart mixed with an unexpected hint of cedar and vetiver. God. The McCarthy twins smell just like they look: fun, playful, a tad mischievous. Unattainable. Yep, I can freaking smell it.
Not that it matters since I have a boyfriend.
“Why?” I ask, and Micah rolls his eyes, pushing off the door and moving away from me. He doesn't hesitate to open the back of the glass display with all the pies in it, selecting a beautiful fruit pie with a woven crust and tossing it onto the counter. “Should you be touching that? Where are we, anyway?”
“The Jaw Flapper,” Tobias responds, slowly lowering his arm. He trails his fingers down the length of mine, and I shiver again. A slight smile works its way over his lips, and he shrugs out of his jacket, slinging it over my shoulders along with that cherry-tart smell of his. My cheeks flush neon, and I find myself wide-eyed and tongue-tied. “The woman who runs it is from the Deep South. Some city called Pluto, all the way down in the Delta in Mississippi. She runs it for Church's family, and they love the food so much, they let her keep all the profits, just so long as they're allowed to eat for free whenever they want.”
“That's … an interesting arrangement,” I hedge, pulling the jacket tighter around me. I'm still not one hundred percent sure I believe the twins are going to keep my secret, but what choice do I have? They already know, and unless I'm willing to Taser them both and tie them up in some abandoned cellar somewhere, I'm just going to have to deal with that. “So you're included in that little deal then? You must be close with the Montagues.”
“Nah, we stole the keys,” they reply together, and then they lift up their pinkie fingers, connected by a silver ring strung with keys. How they managed that coordinated feat is beyond me. Maybe they share a brain?
“Do you like cherry pie?” Tobias asks as I settle myself on one of the stools. My heart is still racing, and I feel like I need a moment to process. My secret is out. To the asshole twins, no less. This isn't going to turn out well, is it? I managed to keep it hidden for about two months. Out of the school year's nine. That's … not a good ratio.
“Um, sure,” I say, raising an eyebrow as Micah cuts the pie into thirds and slaps each piece on a speckled brown plate, pushing it over to me and then deftly licking each of his fingers clean. “The owner will be reimbursed for this though, right?”
“She better be,” a cheerful voice calls just before the