I’m just . . .”
I gaze at their child. “he’s just so beautiful. You’re all so beautiful.”
I break down in a round of fresh sobs, and the mother takes a
step back.
Great. Now I’m the crazy lady on a bench.
She asks, “Is there someone you need us to call?”
I take a breath and pull myself together. And then I smile. “No.
I’m all right. Really. It’s just . . . I’m having a baby.”
Twisted_1P.indd 66
11/18/13 11:47 AM
t w i s t E d
67
There.
I said it.
Sure, I just said it to two perfect strangers, which is a little
messed up, but still. Am I scared? Of course I am. But I’ve never
run from a challenge in my life—why would I start now?
“Well, congratulations, and good luck to you, miss.”
“Thank you.”
The family turns and walks down the street together. As I watch
them go, a store display to the right catches my eye. It’s a Yankee merchandise store, and in the window is a teeny-tiny T-shirt that
says, FUTURE YANKEES PITChER. And my excitement blooms like a
flower in a rainforest.
Because now I know just how I’m going to tell Drew.
Twisted_1P.indd 67
11/18/13 11:47 AM
Chapter 6
What do you know about ESP? Extrasensory Perception; the
knowledge of an incident before it takes place. We all have a
little bit of it—that other ninety percent of our brains we don’t use.
It’s those times in the car when you think of a song you haven’t
heard in years, and it’s the next one that comes on the radio. It’s those mornings when you picture an old friend and at dinnertime
the phone rings, and it’s the friend you were thinking of.
I was never a big believer in that sort of thing. But as the store clerk handed me my change for the tiny T-shirt, a ball of anxiety
settled deep in my gut.
And it wasn’t normal butterflies. It was urgent. Desperate
unease, like when you realize you forgot to pay a credit card bill.
I had to get to Drew. I had to talk to him—to tell him—and
it had to be now. I walked quickly down the street. Well . . . as
quickly as I could in three-inch heels.
As every step carried me closer to our building, the worry
increased exponentially.
Twisted_1P.indd 68
11/18/13 11:47 AM
t w i s t E d
69
At the time I chalked it up to the news I was about to break.
But looking back now, I think it was something else.
Precognition.
By the time I stood outside our apartment door, my knees
were shaking and my palms were sweaty. Then I reached for the
knob. . . .
If you have a weak stomach? You may not want to watch this.
It won’t be pretty.
I step into the apartment. The lights are out. I put my keys on the table and take off my coat. I flick the switch on the wall, flooding the room with light.
And that’s when I see him.
Them.
Drew is standing in the middle of our living room, his dress
shirt unbuttoned, exposing the chest that I’ve traced my fingers
over a thousand times. The warm, bronze skin I love to touch. he
has a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand. And the other hand is hidden. Buried.
In a mane of wavy auburn hair.
She’s the opposite of me in every way. Thick red tresses, breasts
the size of watermelons, perky in their fakeness. She’s tall—as tall as Drew—even without the stilettos. her lips are red and lush,
plump enough to make Angelina Jolie envious.
And those plump red lips are moving against Drew’s mouth.
Good kissers, really good kissers, don’t just use their lips. They utilize their entire body—their tongue, their hands, their hips.
Twisted_1P.indd 69
11/18/13 11:47 AM
70
E m m a c h a s E
Drew is a good kisser.
But I’ve never had the chance to observe him in action. I’ve
never seen him kiss anyone. Because I’ve always been on the receiving end. The kissee.
But that’s not the case now.
I stand there—stunned. Watching. And though it’s only for a
few seconds, it feels like forever. Like an eternity.
In hell.
Then Drew pulls back. And almost as if he knew
I gaze at their child. “he’s just so beautiful. You’re all so beautiful.”
I break down in a round of fresh sobs, and the mother takes a
step back.
Great. Now I’m the crazy lady on a bench.
She asks, “Is there someone you need us to call?”
I take a breath and pull myself together. And then I smile. “No.
I’m all right. Really. It’s just . . . I’m having a baby.”
Twisted_1P.indd 66
11/18/13 11:47 AM
t w i s t E d
67
There.
I said it.
Sure, I just said it to two perfect strangers, which is a little
messed up, but still. Am I scared? Of course I am. But I’ve never
run from a challenge in my life—why would I start now?
“Well, congratulations, and good luck to you, miss.”
“Thank you.”
The family turns and walks down the street together. As I watch
them go, a store display to the right catches my eye. It’s a Yankee merchandise store, and in the window is a teeny-tiny T-shirt that
says, FUTURE YANKEES PITChER. And my excitement blooms like a
flower in a rainforest.
Because now I know just how I’m going to tell Drew.
Twisted_1P.indd 67
11/18/13 11:47 AM
Chapter 6
What do you know about ESP? Extrasensory Perception; the
knowledge of an incident before it takes place. We all have a
little bit of it—that other ninety percent of our brains we don’t use.
It’s those times in the car when you think of a song you haven’t
heard in years, and it’s the next one that comes on the radio. It’s those mornings when you picture an old friend and at dinnertime
the phone rings, and it’s the friend you were thinking of.
I was never a big believer in that sort of thing. But as the store clerk handed me my change for the tiny T-shirt, a ball of anxiety
settled deep in my gut.
And it wasn’t normal butterflies. It was urgent. Desperate
unease, like when you realize you forgot to pay a credit card bill.
I had to get to Drew. I had to talk to him—to tell him—and
it had to be now. I walked quickly down the street. Well . . . as
quickly as I could in three-inch heels.
As every step carried me closer to our building, the worry
increased exponentially.
Twisted_1P.indd 68
11/18/13 11:47 AM
t w i s t E d
69
At the time I chalked it up to the news I was about to break.
But looking back now, I think it was something else.
Precognition.
By the time I stood outside our apartment door, my knees
were shaking and my palms were sweaty. Then I reached for the
knob. . . .
If you have a weak stomach? You may not want to watch this.
It won’t be pretty.
I step into the apartment. The lights are out. I put my keys on the table and take off my coat. I flick the switch on the wall, flooding the room with light.
And that’s when I see him.
Them.
Drew is standing in the middle of our living room, his dress
shirt unbuttoned, exposing the chest that I’ve traced my fingers
over a thousand times. The warm, bronze skin I love to touch. he
has a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hand. And the other hand is hidden. Buried.
In a mane of wavy auburn hair.
She’s the opposite of me in every way. Thick red tresses, breasts
the size of watermelons, perky in their fakeness. She’s tall—as tall as Drew—even without the stilettos. her lips are red and lush,
plump enough to make Angelina Jolie envious.
And those plump red lips are moving against Drew’s mouth.
Good kissers, really good kissers, don’t just use their lips. They utilize their entire body—their tongue, their hands, their hips.
Twisted_1P.indd 69
11/18/13 11:47 AM
70
E m m a c h a s E
Drew is a good kisser.
But I’ve never had the chance to observe him in action. I’ve
never seen him kiss anyone. Because I’ve always been on the receiving end. The kissee.
But that’s not the case now.
I stand there—stunned. Watching. And though it’s only for a
few seconds, it feels like forever. Like an eternity.
In hell.
Then Drew pulls back. And almost as if he knew
Similar Books
