The Twins & Me

Catch You

While I trust Arlo more than I thought I ever could, Oliver is a whole other story. As I stand on the sidewalk, waiting for the boys to pick me up for Ollie's "date," I can't help but shift anxiously from side to side.

Before I left their place last night for Arlo to drive me home, Ollie said to make sure I wore comfortable shoes today. In the same breath he threatened to chop my hair off if I lost the collar they'd given me. As soon as I got home I tucked it safely in the jewelry box beside my bed—there's no way I'd wear it around anyone but either of them.

I stare down at my Air Force 1s. It's going to be cold all day, so I paired a white hoodie with a Nike windbreaker and leggings. Hopefully, his idea of a date is some sort of sports game. I'd take watching eight hours of golf over anything wild that could come out of his brain.

Soon enough, a Jeep comes into view. Ollie's behind the wheel, and Arlo hops out of the passenger side to let me in. I'd rather sit in the back with him, but the look on Ollie's face tells me I'd better not try it.

As I buckle myself into the seat, I glance around the car for any signs of what we might be doing, but the car is its usual clean self.

"Going to guess?" Ollie asks, a smirk on his lips.

I look to Arlo. He's relaxed; there might even be a little excitement in his eyes. It puts me at ease.

"Is it dangerous?"

Arlo laughs, and Ollie speeds down the street. "Maybe," he teases.

"No, Wren, it's not dangerous," Arlo says over his brother.

Still, a part of me want to jump out of the car at the next stoplight.

We ride through the city, and I almost speak up when Ollie takes a ramp onto the highway. It's the interstate that I took to get here from home, though we're going North rather than South.

Ollie abruptly shuts off the radio. "Don't you trust me?"

I'm silent as he merges with Saturday morning traffic.

"Wren," he says. There's an edge to his voice. "Look at me."

I ignore him. "Look at the road."

Quick as a snake his arm shoots out and his hand finds the back of my neck. He locks on like a viper sinking its fangs into its prey.

I let out a small noise as he forces my head in his direction.

Arlo shifts in the backseat, but remains silent.

"If I tell you to look at me, you look at me," Ollie says, eyes locked on the road.

When I don't respond, he squeezes the back of my neck.

I grit my teeth. "Okay, Ollie."

One second passes, two. He releases his hold but his hand remains on the back of my head. He rubs the spot where he grabbed me. "Don't you trust me?" he repeats.

Don't lie to spare feelings. "Not entirely."

This time he looks at me. "You think I'd hurt you?" His eyes are intense and there's a hurt in his voice I've never heard before.

"I don't know," I say because while he hasn't given me reason not to, it's not like he's Mr. Predictable. At least I can get a read on Arlo.

He stares at me, too long, and my eyes flicker to the highway.

"Please watch the road, Ollie."

Arlo leans forward, puts a hand on Ollie's outstretched arm. "Ollie," he says.