Chapter Twenty One- You're A One Fine Piece Of Art

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A/N: I didn't proofread this chapter so if you find grammar errors, please report it to me in the comments. Thank you!

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I lean against the wall, across from Rosalyn's room

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I lean against the wall, across from Rosalyn's room. Dylan's pacing around anxiously, while Alex and Josh stand right in front of the door, knocking and tapping their feet impatiently. "Hurry up, already!" Alex exclaims. Brian decided not to accompany us, calling us 'immature' for what we're gonna do.

"Shut up, Alex!" She yells back, for the tenth time, fed up with everyone. Okay, we might be teeny bit 'immature', but I can assure you that we have Rosie- er, I mean, our beloved Rosalyn, my future sister in law's (probably, if Dylan grows some balls) permission to do this. Although, I don't know about Ryder or the other couple.

The door opens and she steps out, about to say something, but stops and lets her mouth hang open as we all stare at her. "I thought I told you guys to blend in!" She exclaims, facepalming herself. "Why. Would. You. Even think. Of. Wearing. Black!"

"Black is fashionable," Josh shrugs.

"The real point is," I say, taking in her dress, "the dress is too bright and cheery for your dark soul." She's wearing a bright yellow strapless dress that ends at her knees. It has some kind of pink floral pattern on the hem.

She glares at me. "You said the exact same thing the other four times as well, Zack."

This time, Alex teases her. "You look like Tweety from the Looney Tunes."

"Tweety's cute," she mumbles.

"Yeah," Alex clicks his tongue, "and you're not."

She glares daggers at him. It's honestly so amusing to watch her seethe like this. "How about you wear something you like?" Dylan speaks for the first time since we've arrived. I can't help but notice that something's different between these two. Their conversations don't flow as easily as they did before.

Your brother probably grew a pair of balls and made a move. Knowing my innocent little twin, he'd never make the first move in fear of rejection. So probably, she made the first move. About time, anyway.

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