Brew Brothers was a popular bar just off campus, one we’d hung out at before. This wasn’t a conversation I should be having in public, as enticing as a cold mug of beer was at the moment. It might cushion the blow, but no, not wise. Alone. We had to converse alone.

“We shouldn’t be conversing about this at all,” I mumbled to myself as I typed a response.

Atticus: No good. Need privacy. It’s important.

Asher: Mom and Dad are going out tomorrow night for a couple hours. Some charity thing. Come to the house?

It was better than nothing. I sent him a thumbs up and pocketed my phone. I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to agree to this or confirm I’d lost my mind.

I imagined us on the front cover of some sexy romance novel. Atticus and Asher Charming.

“We’d be the faces of twincest everywhere.” I thought about the implications. How many people read this woman’s books? Thousands upon thousands if the reviews and awards were anything to go by. “Fuck.”

There was no way Asher would say yes. Not only was I asking him to do gay shit when he was straight, but I was asking him to do it with me, his brother, his twin. I shuddered. It was possible I was losing my mind. Why was I even considering this? Selling my ass on the street would be better for my reputation than this. What if our friends found out? What if Mom and Dad saw it?

I shook all the implications away and laughed at myself. Asher was gonna kick my ass when I told him. I hoped he laughed too. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was some freak who thought this stuff was hot too.

THE FOLLOWING DAY after class, I descended the stairs in front of the university’s library as I called my brother.

“They’re gone,” he said in lieu of a hello.

“Can you pick me up? I don’t want to walk. It’s a long way.”

“Take the bus.”

“Eww. Don’t be gross. I’ll get syphilis or something. Come on. Please?”

“You’re such a whiny bitch sometimes.”

“I am, but you love me and feel sorry for me. I’m the unwanted puppy, discarded without a care in the world. If you make me walk, I’ll spend the first hour of our time together complaining about sore feet instead of getting to the point. I swear it. Don’t make me do it.”

“Fine, but why can’t we just go get a beer? I’ve been studying my ass off all week. I could use a cold one.”

“Can’t. Need somewhere private to talk.”

“Why? What’s this all about?”

“Stuff and things. Trust me.”

“God, you’re annoying. Fine. Where are you?”

“At school. Front entrance of the library.”