10 Things: A Cody Simpson Fan Fiction

Twenty-seven

Merinda:

          “Okay, start speaking.”

          “Speak? What am I supposed to say?” Doctor Anderson shot back at me when I crossed my arms over my chest, with my eyebrows furrowed tightly together all expressed towards only one person, and that person is the one standing right before me.

          “Don’t act like you don’t know anything,” if this turns out to be what I’m not expecting, I’m totally going to regret this later. “To me, you feel familiar. So familiar that I’m beginning to think I’m driving myself to some mental institution. And what’s with your facial expression when Cody and I told you we’re both dating? Are you related to me?”

          He stopped whatever he was doing and spun around to face me with his eyes slightly narrowed, only making my frown deepen. After a few seconds he lifted an eyebrow and huffed out air from his nostrils.

          “Why would you think that?”

          “Because—“ I paused, allowing my eyes to widen a little bit in a brief moment of panic. “Because I just have a feeling, okay? And it’s bothering. And I just want you to tell me and stop diverting subjects.”

          “Merinda,” his sigh sent creeps up my back, but I shrugged that off and cleared my throat when he took a seat on the little black leather chair opposite me. “I don’t know if you know me from somewhere, or that your mother’s told you anything… And this is going to be very—”

          “No offense or anything, but can you please cut the crap? This, uh, isn’t really a movie, so like… It’d be much appreciated. In a way,” I tried to be polite but somehow I just couldn’t. Well, at least I tried, right?

          An attempt at something is better than none.

          “Merinda, I’m Mitchell Anderson, your father’s twin brother and your Uncle,” he solemnly stated, looking at me dead in the eyes and from my peripheral vision, I could see his jaws clenching. “And in case you think I’m joking, I can actually call your father up right now and let him speak to you.”

          “Stop.” I clenched my teeth together, frowning very hard as I tried to absorb everything all at once. “Stop speaking for a moment and let me, just let me work this out. This has my brain working so if this isn’t true, things won’t end well.”

          What he just told me felt like a blow that was fired at me.

          Like it was all so fast that I couldn’t register anything at all. And that it feels only surreal and nothing else surrounding it matters. Anderson. Our surnames. The feelings I had when I first saw him. Fatherly image? God.

          God.

          God. Please help me and pray that I can handle these information and that I won’t pass out due to a slight state of shock, even.

          “So,” I squeezed my eyes shut, curling my fingers into my palms, forming fists. I enforced so much strength in it that I could almost sense my knuckles turning white behind closed eyes. “You’re telling me… You’re my Uncle. And you’re my Dad’s twin brother? So, that means you look just like him?”

          “Actually,” he paused to give out a chuckle, “your father has always been the better looking one. Fit, older, taller, slimmer, and more charming. And unlike me, already half bald, he has healthy, wavy sleek brown hair that he gels backwards,” he demonstrated by running his fingers through his own blond hair. “You look just like him. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. You take after your mother over everything else.”