The messier, the merrier

Jannah

"So, have you spotted your summer fling yet?" Kaitlyn asks.

I remain quiet for a while, not quite sure what to say. "Kait, I can't even tell them apart. Everything about them is so fucking similar. Same height, hair color, body build... What type of sick game is this anyway?" I snort, folding my arms over my chest crossly, like a spoiled toddler.

"Okay, but are you certain you can't differentiate them? I mean, you almost had sex with Aaron-sorry, I mean Ethan-so..." She bites her lower lip and lets the sentence trail off.

Somehow, the last part of her sentence irks me, and I send her a glare that makes her roll her eyes. I don't know why I'm so triggered by her mentioning I almost had sex with a guy and yet can't identify him from his twin brother, who looks more like a clone than a different person, but I blame my hormones and my already fucked-up morning for making me edgy.

"Yeah, I just had to get reminded by my best friend. This would make a great plot for those crazy romance books you read. A girl goes on a summer vacation and-"

I barely finish my sentence when Kaitlyn cuts me off, ending my self-pitying moment.

"Alright, alright." Kait raises her hands in surrender and slips off my desk. "You're pissed. I probably shouldn't have asked, but I did because it's a logical question, so stop being so defensive. Jeez." She sighs, her long fingers smoothing the pleats of her pants.

Yet I'm the dramatic one.

"He has an eagle tattoo on his back," I blurt, then blink hard. How on earth could I have forgotten that? A smile spreads on my lips, and I clap my hands in excitement like I've just been told I won the lottery.

"I remember now. But how on earth am I supposed to find out which one of them is Aaron? Rip off their shirt?" I lean against my chair and blubber my lips as it dawns on me that I really can't do anything about that.

"Yeah, rip his shirt and get your ass fired. I think it'll be a better plot for my romance books." Kait grins, and I toss a scrunched-up piece of paper at her.

"God. I've never been so confused in my life."

"Or you could just ask." Kaitlyn takes a step further, a calculative smirk on her round face as she drums on my shoulder. I know her well enough to know her idea is no good, but that doesn't mean I won't try it.

"You’ve inspired most of my worst decisions. Remind me why I’m listening to you again?" I eye her knowingly. Like the schemer she is, she winks, then places her finger at the center of her lips.

Here we go.

"There's really no big deal. You just walk up to him when he's alone, tell him you met someone that looks like him during summer in Mexico, and watch his expression. There." Kaitlyn snaps her fingers, a determined look on her face after her crazy pep talk.

My brain-God bless it-reminds me of other scenarios where we've gotten into deep shit trouble because of her brilliant ideas, and I find myself squirming in my seat. From the way she tilts her head, I can tell my facial expression is as disapproving as my thoughts, which is just perfect.

"Don't be so boring. What's the worst that could happen? It's way better than ripping his shirt." She chuckles at the end of the second sentence, her silly jab aimed at me.

In my defense, I wasn't actually planning on doing that, so she could fuck off. One thing about Kaitlyn that has never failed to amaze me is her ability to make a mountain seem like an ant's heel. It would do her a lot of good if she got hired as a sales rep instead of presenting her absurd plans to me.

"God, please just don't," I groan, sinking lower into my chair as though it'll save me from reality-something I wish was actually possible. Instead, Kaitlyn moves close, her head only a few inches away from mine.

"Do you want to find out or act like a fucking chicken?"

That's it. She knows me well enough to compare her decision and me not adhering to it as something cowardly, and as sad as it may sound, I always fall for that damn trick.

"And where the hell am I going to find him alone?"

My question makes her squeal so loud that I have to block my ears. I'm just recovering from partially tuning deaf when she drags me off my chair and pulls me into a hug-every action I partake in with little to no enthusiasm since I can only feel dread in the pit of my stomach.

"I'll think of something. I promise." Her smile is so radiant that I'm almost tempted to join in.

"This will be so exciting!" Kaitlyn wiggles her eyebrows, and I crack a lazy smile-it's really all I can muster.

But she's wrong. This won't be exciting. It’ll be messy. And if I’m right… it might hurt more than the first time.

*****

All HODs have a meeting with Aaron later in the day. Apparently, that's the only moment I have to seize.

Do I feel brave? No.

Do I wish there was another way? Hell yes.

When I glance at my watch, it’s twelve minutes to eleven. I round up my work, make the sign of the cross on my chest—which is very hypocritical since I'm as atheist as shit—then leave my office.

The boardroom is wide with glass-paneled walls and a long silver desk. Typical. I'm one of the first to arrive, an iPad in my sweaty palms, wrist clamped tightly around my shaking hand.

I spent my coffee break making up sentences I’d use when I finally asked him, but I crossed them all out. They sounded silly. I know if I ask Kait, she’ll say let it flow naturally. Naturally, my ass.

The AC is cold enough for a sweater, but I’m sweating around my forehead.

"Jan, are you okay?" Mrs. Sanchez sends me a worried look. I manage my most authentic fake smile.

"I'm okay. I ran down here, that's all." Luckily, she doesn’t probe, but I catch her eyes flicking to a fat bead of sweat sliding along my face before she nods and turns away.

I dab the sweat and scold myself.

The buzz dies when the door opens and Aaron steps in. I lower my gaze and nibble the wall of my lips.

Again, he’s ditched the suit for a dress shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. He looks hot. Aaron wears his confidence like a man wears his favorite cologne.

"Let's keep this brief," his voice is warm but firm, all business. "We'll go over last quarter's performance, projections, and any urgent concerns."

I try to focus, but my heart performs cartwheels in my chest. The meeting starts with reports from each department—financial updates, marketing strategies, upcoming projects. I pretend to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere. Every time Aaron speaks, my chest tightens. His voice—it’s familiar. Too familiar.

At one point, his eyes meet mine. I swear my breath catches. I force myself to look down, grip tightening on my stylus.

The meeting ends faster than it would have under his father. As usual, everyone shakes his hand with plastered smiles. I make sure I’m last.

"Miss?" He arches a brow. I tell him my name.

"It's an honor to work under you. I wish you the best," I add, and he flashes me a professional smile. I take advantage of it and blurt my question.

"Were you, by any chance, in Mexico during the summer? You look quite familiar."

His shoulders tense for a moment. His brows furrow as a thoughtful expression clouds his face.

"I don't think so. Maybe you saw my brother. People always mistake us," Aaron says quickly, his hand slipping from mine as he steps back, his smile slightly faltering.

My lips form an "O," and I apologize before walking off.

When I find Clinton, he’s not going to like it.