Page 27

Chapter 27

McCoy

“It’s been two days. You can’t avoid me forever,” Sloane said, both hands on hips as she hovered beside the sofa in their apartment.

As painful as it was, Coy had discovered it was, in fact, possible to ignore her twin. All she had to do was resist eye contact and not fall for Sloane’s petulant need for attention, and this revenge could last at least a week.

“Naz, you hear something?” Coy asked, pulling her gaze from the video game they were playing on the TV to look at her friend.

Naz huffed a laugh, scratching her nose and looking everywhere but at the irate woman glowering at them. “Just the pathetic cries of defeat from whoever we’re playing,” she replied with a smirk. Sure enough, there was a bout of cursing in their headset coming from a fellow gamer.

Gotta love the bro code that keeps Naz from taking her side.

Thankfully, tiffs between Coy and Sloane were rare because she earnestly adored her sister. Just not when she crossed lines she had no business crossing. In her peripheral vision, Coy saw her sister pick up a throw pillow and biff it at her. With a shocked laugh, Coy maneuvered out of the way on the sofa and caught it, all without taking her eyes off the screen. Her avatar died, though, but they would have regardless because seconds later, Sloane was in front of her and Naz, blocking the TV.

“Aww, c’mon,” Naz cried, throwing her hands, controller and all, up in a what the fuck motion.

“Coy. Fucking look at me, please!” Sloane’s voice was elevated, bordering on shrill, like she was fighting back tears. No doubt part of her sick little game.

Coy wouldn’t be so easily persuaded. She had plans that didn’t involve mollycoddling someone who’d wronged her. Besides, part one of her plan to romance Sawyer had begun, and she needed her full attention on the reply that she was certain would come. Eventually. Coy had arranged for the bouquet to be delivered to Desmarais right before the supper rush, so it made sense Sawyer might take hours to acknowledge them.

“I did you a favor by inviting your old marks to the party,” Sloane insisted. “You saw you weren’t missing anything, right?”

“ Don’t call them that.” Coy tossed her game controller aside and pushed off the sofa, facing off with Sloane with a scowl. Her hands shook, and she crossed her arms so Sloane couldn’t see how upset she was. “You’re out of line, Sloane. Are you so bored with your own life that you’ve got to fuck with mine? Out of everyone, I thought you would understand. I thought—” Coy’s mouth snapped shut. She blinked, shock filling her as she felt the first burn of tears threatening. She swallowed, forcing her legs to turn away from Sloane and leave the room. The hell she would cry with an audience.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Bitch, do not cry—

Coy had felt more emotional than usual the last few days. Come to think of it, the dreadful visit she received monthly should be any day now. What was worse was the fact she and Sloane had always synced their periods.

“Maybe that’s why she’s in her fucking villain era,” Coy grumbled, escaping into her bedroom. She didn’t slam the door, even though there was a strong urge to do so. Rather, she clicked it shut quietly and flopped down on her bed.

The bedroom door swung open hard, bouncing off the stopper fastened to the baseboard, and in walked a tearful, flushed-faced Sloane. “I just want you to talk to me,” she exclaimed, reaching up with two jerky hands to wipe her damp cheeks. “What did I do wrong?”

Coy sighed, absently reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, which just happened to be a move Sloane hated. Sure enough, an aggravated noise left her sister. “Which time?” Coy countered, checking her phone for messages. Nothing yet. Another sigh, but thankfully the urge to cry was over with. “You call them marks like they’re pegs on a board. Like I’m some kind of sexual deviant. Go fuck off already, Sloane. I’m done with this conversation.”

“I didn’t mean …” Sloane spluttered.

“Ash, Jasmine, Molly, Laura, every one of them have names. I might have wanted things kept casual, but I never called them marks,” Coy rebuked, appalled at the idea.

“But it was the game.”

“It was never a game to me.” Guilt hit Coy immediately. Hadn’t it been just that? A constant bet between them about whether or not McCoy could earn someone's number?

God, why did I do that? Why did Sloane?

Horrified, Coy sat slack-jawed, unable to do anything but stare at her phone’s blurry lock screen. She blinked, allowing big, fat tears to cascade down her cheeks. No message from Sawyer. Was Coy deserving of a date with the history she had? Sawyer would be ashamed if she knew. Coy rubbed the ache growing in her chest, saying softly, “I’m done betting, Sloane. Sawyer isn’t a prize, and this bet makes it seem like my feelings aren’t genuine. And for the record, even if things don’t work out with her, I’ve realized slow and steady is more my speed these days, anyway.”

“That’s sweet and all, but you can’t forfeit the bet,” Sloane expressed wide-eyed.

“What? Of course I can.”

A nervous giggle left her sister, and she wrung her fingers together as she continued, “I’ve got to front a grand if I lose, so you know, no quitting for you, playgirl.”

Coy’s eyes bugged out, but Sloane’s latest bet wasn’t her problem. She climbed off the bed, choking out, “What the fuck, Sloane? You just completely disregarded my feelings. Why are you doing this to me?” What would make anyone do this? Sloane used to be her closest confidant, her ride or die, yet the person standing before Coy was unrecognizable.

Coy rounded on Sloane, her heart hammering against her chest as she pushed her sister out of the bedroom. “Our bets used to be fun, just between you and me. Now the stakes are high and you’re, like, a totally different person lately. It’s not even fun anymore, and honestly, I miss the old Sloane.”

This time, Coy slammed the door, relishing the dramatic way it shut Sloane up and how the force shook the picture frames on her walls. She marched back to her bed but was too tense to sit. So she grabbed her phone and paced the length of the small bedroom. Deep inhales and long exhales focused her thoughts so that she could properly unlock the device. She felt lightheaded as she read Naz’s text.

Naz: Sorry, Coy, I’m out. Txt when you’re done so I know you’re okay.

Great, just great. Sloane ruined herguys’ nights on top of everything else lately. Jealous, petty bitch that she was. Her own love life was lacking, so she deemed it her life mission to sabotage Coy’s?

“Fuck off with that. I am done with her level of crazy,” Coy grumbled, wiping away another tear. A deep ache settled between her breastbone as she once again searched for a reply from Sawyer. How long did it take to type “Received, thank you” to someone?

Coy paced some more, deep in thought. What if Sawyer hated the flowers? At the time, it’d been a toss-up between a bouquet and a pot of basil, but Coy figured Sawyer probably had more than her fair share of herbs. Sawyer didn’t seem the flower type either.

“Maybe I should show up again,” Coy said, then balked at how cringe she was being. And as she continued to pace, the truth dawned on her. She was acting like her sister whenever Sloane got hung up on someone new. “Well, shit.”

Coy was officially doomed.