Tasting My Ex's Twin Brother

Chapter 2: The Red Illusion

Elena's POV

The cherry red silk felt like a second skin, but as Maya’s car pulled up to the curb of the offcampus hockey house, it felt more like an armor.

"Remember," Maya said, turning in the driver’s seat to lock her eyes with mine. Her hand reached over, squeezing my fingers tightly. "You are the prize. Do not let them see you sweat."

I took a deep breath, looking at my reflection in the passenger side mirror. Maya had worked absolute miracles. My usual minimal makeup had been replaced with a sharp, smoky one that elongated and lifted my eyes, and my lips were painted the exact shade of crimson as the dress. The low back cut of the silk exposed a smooth expanse of skin, and the high slit on the thigh gave the outfit a dangerous, confident edge I didn't entirely feel inside.

"I'm ready," I lied, forcing a nod.

The moment I stepped out of the car, the bass from the speakers inside the house vibrated right through the soles of my heels. The front lawn was a chaotic sea of red and black, the team colors, packed with students holding plastic cups, shouting over the music.

As I walked up the porch steps, the sea of people parted slightly. I could feel the weight of dozens of eyes shifting toward me. The murmurs started almost instantly.

"Is that Elena?"

"No way. Since when does she dress like that?"

"Damn. Ethan's girl cleaned up."

A small, fierce spark of satisfaction flared in my chest. I held my chin high, pushing through the heavy front doors into the humid, crowded living room. The air was thick with the scent of cheap beer, sweat, and expensive cologne. I scanned the room frantically, searching for a tall, athletic frame and a mess of golden brown hair.

Instead, I found Marcus standing by the makeshift bar. He was laughing with a group of freshmen girls, but the second his eyes landed on me, his jaw practically hit the floor.

"Elena?" Marcus blinked, his eyes traveling down the length of the red dress before snapping back up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Holy hell. Look at you. If I knew you hid a body like that under those oversized hoodies, I would’ve stolen you from Carter months ago."

I bristled at his tone, crossing my arms slightly to shield myself from his predatory gaze. "Where is Ethan, Marcus?"

Marcus took a slow sip of his drink, his smirk widening. "Honestly? Haven't seen him in a minute. He was heading toward the back hallway earlier. Go check the VIP lounge or the patio."

"Thanks," I mumbled, turning on my heel before he could say anything else.

The deeper I walked into the house, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. The confidence the red dress had given me was rapidly evaporating, leaving behind a cold, hollow anxiety. I needed a drink. Just something to steady my nerves and stop my hands from shaking.

I managed to grab a cup of spiked punch from a table in the hallway, swallowing half of it in one long, burning gulp. The alcohol hit my empty stomach like electricity, instantly blurring the sharp edges of the room. My head spun lightly, a warm numbness washing over me.

I kept moving down the dim, narrow hallway toward the back exits, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

Then, I saw him.

At the very end of the hall, standing in the shadows near the exit to the balcony, was a tall, broad shouldered guy. He was leaning against the wall, dressed in the signature black varsity jacket I knew by heart. The lighting was terrible, shadows casting long silhouettes against the wood paneling, but I would know that frame anywhere.

Relief rushed through me so fast it made me dizzy.

Ethan

I dropped the plastic cup onto a nearby ledge and hurried down the hall. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want to ask him why he left me, or why he was with Tiffany, or why he had forgotten our five year anniversary. I just wanted to feel like I belonged to him again. I wanted to erase the past forty eight hours with a single moment.

"Ethan," I breathed, stepping into his space.

He straightened up instantly, his head snapping toward me. Before he could utter a single word, I reached up, my hands gripping the rough fabric of his varsity jacket, and pulled myself up on my tiptoes.

And I kissed him.

It wasn't the comfortable, familiar kiss Ethan and I had shared for the last five years. The moment our lips met, a jolt of pure, chaotic electricity shot straight down my spine. The man beneath my hands stiffened in absolute shock, his entire body freezing solid.

But I didn't stop. Moved by desperation and the alcohol humming in my veins, I pressed closer, deepening the kiss.

For a fraction of a second, the resistance vanished. A low, ragged gasp escaped his throat, and suddenly, his hands came up, gripping my waist with a fierce, almost punishing intensity. He pulled me flush against his chest, crushing my body to his, returning the kiss with a raw, consuming hunger that left me utterly breathless. It was dark, possessive, and entirely unfamiliar. It felt like drowning, but I didn't care.

Then, just as suddenly as the fire had ignited, he sharply pulled away.

His hands remained anchored to my waist, his chest heaving as he stared down at me. I blinked, my vision adjusting to the dim, shadowy light of the hallway.

My breath caught in my throat.

The eyes staring down at me weren't Ethan’s restless, amber tinted brown. They were a deep, stormy, turbulent gray. They were filled with a terrifying mixture of intense longing and overwhelming guilt.

"Elena," he breathed, his voice a low, gravelly rasp.

Evan!!!!

My heart stopped beating. My hands froze against his jacket, my fingers curling into the fabric as horror washed over me.

I just kissed Evan.

I just kissed my boyfriend's twin brother.

"Oh my god," I choked out, my voice trembling violently as I tried to step back. But Evan’s grip on my waist didn't loosen. His thumbs dug into the silk of my dress, holding me in place.

"Elena, wait..." Evan started, his gray eyes searching my panicked face.

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud, familiar burst of laughter echoed from the open balcony just behind him.

Instinctively, my gaze flicked past Evan’s broad shoulder, looking out through the glass doors onto the dimly lit patio.

The remaining air was violently kicked from my lungs.

Standing beneath the string of patio lights, completely oblivious to the rest of the world, was Ethan. His varsity jacket was missing, his shirt half unbuttoned. And pushed up against the stone railing of the balcony, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, was Tiffany.

Ethan’s hands were buried in her blonde hair, his mouth pressed frantically, hungrily against hers. He was kissing her with a desperate passion he hadn't shown me in over a year, his face buried in her neck as she threw her head back, laughing against his skin.

My world shattered into a million broken pieces.

The music, the chatter, the thumping bass, everything faded into a deafening, ringing silence. I stood frozen in the dark hallway, trapped between the twin brother whose lips were still warm against mine, and the boyfriend who was publicly destroying whatever was left of my heart.