There's nothing I hate more than stereotypical bullshit and here I am, a walking, talking cliche.
Make that a straddling, cat-got-my-tongue cliche.
"What are you laughing at?" I try to sneer but can't quite pull it off.
He is as exasperating as James sometimes is and I was beginning
(more) to see the resemblance is more than physical.
I push off of him when it becomes quite evident he's enjoying me pinning him down a little more than he should have been.
"You're a pig," I say matter-of-factly.
He chuckles as he stands up, brushing off his jeans, "Sweetheart, the look on your face was price-"
"Knock it off and what the fuck? I don't even know your name, and, twin? Your brother is so dead!" I hate when I yell.
"You're dead too!" I poke him in the chest for emphasis. It's just as toned as James- what am I thinking?
"We aleady are pet, undead and all that," he taps his head as if to infer I'm an idiot.
"You're a feisty thing, James forgot to tell me about that."
He frowned.
"Your name?" I snap. I'm embarrassed, pissed off and I have to pee.
"Liam."
I began to laugh so hard I can't stop.
You know that laugh you get in inappropriate places and you can't stop? It was that. It was doubled over holding my stomach laughing.
"What? It's short for William." his voice is firm yet almost soothing, like he's dealing with a wacko.
This made me laugh harder and Liam looked like he was about to make a break for it and I snapped out of it.
I clear my throat as if I'd been having a coughing fit and try to stop thinking of my life as an episode of Buffy.
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