Who Are Those Twins?
1757 Words
Callie’s POV
The ride home dragged me back to my reality—to a drunk mother who didn’t even know it was Christmas and whose only concern was that the liquor cabinet wouldn’t run dry, even though the pantry held nothing but the little food my part-time waitress salary could afford.
“Callie, sweetheart, is that you?” my mother asked after I had shut my bedroom door. When she spoke to me like that, it was because she wanted something, never for any other reason. Still, it was better to answer her. If she got angry, things could turn very ugly.
“Yes, Mom, it’s me. What do you want?” I asked, unable to hide the reluctance in my voice.
“Bring your mother something, will you? Be a good daughter and go get a bottle of gin.”
It’s better not to make her angry. It’s better not to make her angry, I repeated to myself.
“Fine. Give me the money and I’ll get it.”
“You know… I’m a little short on cash right now, but if you lend me—”
“No, Mom. You never pay me back, and the little I have is for tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“You won’t lend money to your own mother?!” Oh God, I had made her mad—but I also had to set limits. “How can you be so inconsiderate! I brought you into this world! You owe me your life!”
Yes. You brought me into a crappy world and you make my life even more unbearable, Mom. Thanks for that.
“I don’t have money, okay? I’m going to bed now. And by the way, Merry Christmas.”
I turned around and rushed into my room. I heard her whining, calling me sweetly again, begging me to go get the gin, but I wasn’t going to open my door again. Eventually I heard her rummaging through the fridge. She must have pulled out a few cans of beer and settled in with those for the rest of the night.
I couldn’t keep living like this. If things continued that way, I’d end up the typical spinster daughter who stays home taking care of her mother’s ailments and letting herself be treated however she pleases. That’s why I had started saving. I opened my banking app to check my balance. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough in a few months—once I finished high school—to get the hell out and move to a big city where I could start over and forget everything.
With that thought in mind—and a silent Merry Christmas to myself—I fell asleep.
The next day at my shift at the restaurant, I ran into Lila, who also worked as a waitress. She was the first—and only—person to wish me a Merry Christmas. After that, she noticed the bruises on my arm.
“What the hell, girl! How did you get those?”
I hadn’t paid attention to them until she mentioned it, but the moment I saw them, I knew exactly who had left them.
“That bastard Martin.”
“Martin… Martin? Your boyfriend?”
I explained what had happened the night before and how he chased me into an alley where he tried to force me.
“If those strangers hadn’t shown up at that moment, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
“Strangers?”
I just nodded, not giving details about the identity of my saviors.
“Martin is a pig. I hope you’re not even considering getting back together with him—much less forgiving him for what he did.”
“Never. I’d rather die,” I said with genuine conviction.
An hour later, as lunchtime approached, customers filled the tables and the work became intense—when I saw them walk in.
It was them. The twins from the night before.
I hid in the kitchen. I didn’t want them to see me, but I had no choice. They sat right in my section, and Lila was too busy in hers for me to ask her to switch.
I took a breath and faced them before my boss could say anything.
“Good afternoon,” I greeted, playing dumb as I handed them the menus. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”
I stepped away quickly, hoping they hadn’t recognized me. Though I remembered them as handsome, in daylight they were even more striking. Tall—well over six foot three—broad-shouldered, with that messy hair that screamed rebellion. I couldn’t help feeling drawn to them, unable to stop looking, but I had to control myself. Serve them quickly. Pray they didn’t recognize me.
“So, what’ll you have, gentlemen?” I asked, holding my notepad high enough to partially cover my face.
“Well, look who it is, brother,” said one of the twins—the one with the more defiant gaze and daring attitude, the same one who had grabbed Martin from behind. “What a coincidence, huh?”
They had recognized me.
I wanted the floor to swallow me whole.
“A coincidence? You really think so?” the other one teased, letting his eyes roam over my body. “But are you sure it’s her? She seems pretty shy and doesn’t want to show us her face.”
“I think we’ll have to include that in our order.”
“You mean…?”
“That she shows us her face.”
My cheeks burned, and my legs started trembling beyond my control. What was happening to me? I wasn’t shy around guys—well, not exactly bold either—but with the twins it was different. Something pulled me toward them, made me want to know who they were and why they had called me mate. But at the same time, I felt nervous around them—like my life somehow depended on their approval.
“What are you ordering?” I asked quickly as I lowered the notepad. My tone came out sharper than I intended.
“Oh, brother, I think she’s upset.”
“Shame. She’s so pretty. Though, honestly, she looks even more attractive when she’s mad.”
“And look how red her cheeks are. Yes, she’s even more charming like that.”
That was enough.
I wasn’t going to be the object of mockery for those two idiots—no matter how handsome they were, no matter if they had saved me from Martin. I turned to leave when I felt one of them gently wrap a hand around my wrist.
“Wait. I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to laugh at you.”
He said it with such sincerity that my offense faded. They were just being boys, and I needed to take it that way.
“It’s fine. No problem. But stop wasting my time and tell me what you’re having.”
This time my voice, though firm, wasn’t rude—just decisive. I could tell by the look they gave me.
“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll have the ribs.”
“And you can bring me the meatloaf special, sweetness.”
Normally I wouldn’t let any stranger call me sweetheart or sweetness. But from them it didn’t sound like empty flirting—it felt like a genuine compliment. So I let it slide. I even liked it.
I finished taking their order, and as I walked away, I knew they were watching me—though I didn’t dare turn around.
“What the hell was that?” Lila exclaimed in the kitchen. “Were they flirting with you?”
I let out a long sigh after placing their order.
“It was them.”
“Them who?”
“The ones who helped me when Martin got rough.”
Lila’s jaw nearly dropped.
“Those ridiculously handsome guys? Seriously? I’ve never seen them around town before.”
Neither had I, so I assumed they were just passing through—maybe on vacation or something.
“Well, my orders are ready,” Lila said. “We’ll talk later. Don’t you dare leave out details.”
She winked, and I gathered the twins’ plates. After setting them on the table, I felt that hand around my wrist again. It was firm but not rough, sending a pleasant shiver up my spine.
“Those marks on your arm—did your boyfriend leave them yesterday?” he asked angrily, as if the mere sight of my injured skin offended him.
I turned to tell him that Martin was no longer my boyfriend when I saw his eyes flare with a quick, deep shade of red. I blinked, confused, and when I opened them again, the glow had vanished. I blamed it on some trick of the light.
“We’re not together anymore,” I said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other tables to attend.”
“Do you know what a mate is?” he asked, without releasing my hand.
That word again. They had mentioned it the night before—had even called me that. I didn’t know what it could possibly mean, but it sounded pleasant.
“No,” I said. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“It means that neither your ex-boyfriend nor anyone else will ever touch you again,” he said, still holding my hand, “because soon you’ll be ours, sweetheart.”
“Be yours? I’m not anyone’s property,” I replied, trying to pull my hand free.
“We know,” the other twin said. “And that’s exactly why we like you.”
The twin let go of me, and as he did, I noticed the watch on his wrist. His brother wore a similar one, and only then did I truly take in the clothes they had on. Without a doubt, they were wealthy—very wealthy.
Back in the kitchen, I prepared their check and left it on the table, unable to stop thinking about them and the sensation their grip had left on my skin, the glow in their eyes, and the way they had seemed to… claim me?
I served other customers, and when I returned to collect the payment, I noticed the substantial tip they had left. It was extremely generous.
As I slipped the bills into my pocket, I couldn’t help but wonder who they were.
Who the hell were those twins?
- Writer
