Chapter 7: Play Him At His Own Game

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Breathing in raggedly, I peeled myself off the wall and staggered forward. I struggled to maintain my balance, too shell-shocked my Tyler's words to stay upright.

Did I seriously remind him of Taylor? It didn't make sense. She had golden blonde hair, I was brunette. Her hair was dead straight and finer than a spider's web, my hair was thick, curly and had the tendency to frizz in humidity.

My eyes were liquid pools of molten gold, amber and brown, and on rare occasions hazel-green; but Taylor's eyes were bottomless pits of ocean blue and sea green, entangled the way the ocean wraps around seaweed.

Even her skin was completely different to mine. She tanned easily with unblemished cream-coloured skin whereas I was a pasty, white girl in the winter who only tanned when left to cook in the sunlight during the summer.

So we liked the same things, but that didn't mean we were cut from the same stone. My temper was nowhere near as ruthless as hers and I had a lot more patience that her.

Taylor and I were chalk and cheese. She liked crappy pop songs, ratchet rap music and dubstep whereas I loved my father's old-school, rock collection. She wore flashy clothes that promoted her family's wealth and I just trudged around in whatever awesome sweaters I could find from the thrift shop.

We'd dress each other up, hang out, talking about guys, gossip, world issues, politics, boybands, you name it.

It was a nice balance we had going on; diverse, hysterical, crazy, exhausting, fun yet soothingly perfected to a pace that we could both keep up with.

We had our differences and similarities, just like every set of best friends in the world.

But the same personality?

He go it all wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was the complete opposite.

Tyler wasn't just identical to his sister in terms of looks; there were so many traits they shared that it was creepy how many times they used to finish of each other's sentences.

They even had that whole weird telepathetic crap going on.

One time in elementary school during a recess game, Taylor broke her wrist after getting tripped up by Jonah and her brother sensed it somehow, even though he wasn't playing with us. He sprinted across the playground, laid one on Jonah, sent the poor guy flying across the concrete and gave his sister a piggyback to the nurse. Jonah just didn't know how to react to a crush on Taylor, not that she cared because he grew up to be a douchebag anyway.

But a broken wrist wasn't the point. The moral was that the twins sensed each other even when they were apart. They twins were each other - more alike personality-wise than I ever was to Taylor.

By the time I reached Ms Smith's classroom, I was waist-deep in my thoughts, too dazed to notice that Tyler was leaning against the wall, breathing raggedly with milk-white knuckles. Watching me stumble towards the classroom door, his glare caught me off guard making me stare at my feet as I struggled for words to come.

Should I beg him to come into class again or just give up on him forever? I had never met anybody more stubborn than myself, but there was a limit to everything. Maybe Tyler's hatred for me was just too deep for him to overcome it and partner up with me for the project.

"Tyler..." I started meekly, feeling drained at how much effort I was supplying into this guy.

Absentmindedly tugging at the headphones that were around his neck, Tyler stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest.

"I told you, I'm not going to work with you. Not now. Not ever. So just leave me out of your bullshit project Ashley," Tyler looked at me with dripping disgust, as if he had just stepped in the largest piece of turd in the world. "Sorry."

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