Stacy
The night fell like a curtain as we finished dinner, helped wash the dishes, then collapsed onto our marshmallow-soft beds in a blissful heap.
I had spent most of the day inside the house, playing video games, taking care of our family dog, a male beagle named Buster, whom Sophia and I adopted at the animal shelter on our 4th birthday fourteen years ago. One look at those big, sad, brown eyes and we fell in love with him.
Speaking of sad brown eyes.
"Sop, I can hear you moping and sulking from across the room," I called out to my twin.
Tonight, I'm wearing a black KISS band shirt and long white bottoms with pink polka-dots on them.
I lay on my stomach on my pink bed sheets and gazed at my sister from across the bedroom.
Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of duck-print boxers she smuggled out of Bro Mack's bedroom while he was in the shower, Sophia laid on her back on her olive bed and was staring up at the ceiling with her long brown hair reaching the cold plush floor. I wondered when Mack would realize his drawer had been rummaged through by an 18-year old cousin.
I pushed myself up from my feminine bed and wordlessly strutted towards my sister's bed.
Climbing onto her olive sheets, I laid down next to her in the same position: My back against the fluffy green sheets, the tips of my long blonde hair touching the ground, and my blue eyes peering up at the ceiling,looking at nothing.
"What are you doing?" Sophia rasped out. Her voice was hoarse, like she'd been bawling.
"Waiting for you to confide your problems," I answered, my gaze still upward.
A silence enveloped her for a few minutes. Then she admitted: "I rejected Liam."
"You always reject Liam," I said automatically.
She elbowed me in the side of my ribs. Ow. Okay, that hurt.
"It was.. different this time," she said slowly, measuring her words.
"Different how?" I probed, locking my fingers on top of my flat stomach.
She swallowed hard. "I told him I didn't love him to his face."
Damn. That had to sting like hell. Sophia had always been the more sensitive one between the two of us--she would sugarcoat things, carry the burden so others wouldn't have to--and she was like Ate Jolene. Somewhat of a pushover who couldn't say no to favors or friends or family.
"Hey, Ace. How do you do it?"
"What?"
"When guys ask you out, how do you handle them?"
I pondered Sophia's question for a moment. "I turn them down. Directly. Bluntly. If they can't take a hint and back off, that's where the fun begins. I can be rude to them without feeling remorseful, even if I reject them in public."
"You've always been harsh with guys."
"Yeah, well. Most of them think no means yes and go away means take me I'm yours."
"You sound pleased, and you make it seem easier than it is." Sophia sighed.
I darted her a side-glance. "Some guys might call me a bitch, but I beg to differ. I'm just a girl who doesn't play around, giving them false hope. Offense intended."
"Offense taken," she said with a small chuckle.
"Hey, Sop," I called.
"Yeah?"
I intentionally let a long silence fall over us before I said in the most serious tone in my life:
"Did you see that post online about Marcus Young's next concert?"
I expected her to chuck me with a pillow, but to my shock, Sophia stood on her knees, put her hands on my upper waist, then rolled me out from her green bed and let me thump on the floor.
THUD!
"SOPHIA-A-A-A-A!" I shrieked as my body hit the carpet.
"I thought you were going to give me some advice! And YES! I saw the post," she hollered from her bed while she looked down at me as I lay on the ground.
"So are we going to C.B or M.M.M?" I asked her, referring to Cut Back or Make More Money, both references originating from the Confessions of a Shopaholic series which I completed.
I was still on the floor, and Sophia was no longer within my line of vision, but a pillow soared in the air, and it hit me in the face, white feathers floating around me as I giggled to myself.
"M.M.M," she answered even though I couldn't see her.
Marcus Park Young, our half-Korean,half-American idol singer, was celebrating his 23rd birthday in August 20, which was two and a half months away,so we needed to start saving or earning more money, even though we both had healthy bank accounts to rely on.
I earned money from participating Beauty Pageants and my modeling gigs.
Sophia's published bestsellers were selling like pancakes everyday.
The only people who knew she was S. Green was our family and Liam.
Out of all her friends, the only one who knew about her authorship was Liam Garcia.
Go to hell, Dale Cruz.
Better Liam than him.