SECRET LIVES, Ender and Elliot’s debut novel went live two days before Asher and I got the keys to our new apartment. All focus on packing and moving was shot to shit. Charlotte and Jay were constantly texting, showing us comments about the book’s cover, the trailer, and the feedback about the story. It was sensational. It climbed to the top of the charts overnight, earning an instant best-seller tag.

Aaron was helping me take the few boxes of my belongings to the new place, but his annoyance showed when all I could do was stare at my phone and smile.

Asher was packing on his own since I couldn’t be at the house. Mom and Dad hadn’t taken his announcement well, but they didn’t cut him out of their lives for wanting to be with his twin brother. In fact, Dad told Asher he’d finish paying for his schooling and signed the Jag over to him, warning him the insurance would be his responsibility from then on. Their actions made me curious. They knew Asher was moving in with me—we hadn’t hidden that fact—so it gave me a sense that maybe there was an ounce of regret under the surface, and by helping Asher out, they were in turn helping me out too.

Or maybe I was giving them too much credit. I tried not to think about it. My dreams of someday regaining their love still thrived deep in my heart. Someday.

My phone chimed as I got into Aaron’s car and left his house for the final time.

“You’re Mr. Popular today. New boyfriend or something?” There was a hint of jealousy in his tone, which I ignored.

“Yeah.” I smirked but didn’t feed him any more details as I glanced at a recent text from Asher.

Asher: Did you see this?

He added a link that took me to a personal webpage a reader had made in honor of Ender and Elliot. It was filled with personal fan art she’d painted of the two of us. Our likeness was remarkable—and the poses explicit.

Atticus: Holy crap!

Asher: Hotness overload. I want to buy these paintings and hang them in our bedroom

Atticus: That would be so cool. I’ll be at the apartment in ten mins. You?

Asher: A few hours.

We’d spent a small amount of money on used furniture—like the poor college students we now were. Mom would have been appalled if she knew. So with Asher’s queen-sized bed, dressers, desk, stereo unit, and a couch from the game room Dad had let him take, we were off to a good start. We’d bought a gently used dining room set and some basic pots, pans, and dishes to get us started in the kitchen. The rest would come as needed.