Tyed

I'm not fine with what Ty did. I'm not fine with how he handled everything—us, his secret and his past mistakes. But yes, I'm fine with knowing that his actions are going to have some consequences, and I'm ready to shoulder some of the weight, some of the burden and even some of the pain that comes with it.

Too bad that after our last conversation, I'm starting to think that he might not be on board with that arrangement.

I've always been a late bloomer, and I have a nagging feeling that I may be late again.

Shit.

Chapter Eighteen

I officially have no social life. Nana Marty got whisked away to a month-long Hawaiian honeymoon. Mom and Dad are redecorating parts of their house, including the rooms that used to belong to me and Izzy. And Izzy is busy seeking out her next prestigious campaign and takes time off from Elizabeth's Passion to work her ass off at the gym five times a week. At least she’s not working out at The Grind.

I spend my time trying to rebuild my relationship with Shane. A relationship that both literally and figuratively took a pretty serious blow.

Shane has started an internship at a new funky culture magazine based in San Francisco. It's called Dazed and it's supposed to be the American version of Vice magazine. A week into his internship, I take the train into San Fran and meet him for lunch in a hipster sushi place in Russian Hill. When I confess to the server, who has two sleeves of tattoos and a lip ring, that I'm a vegetarian, he doesn't even blink. In fact, he hands me the restaurant's raw vegan menu and points at the most recommended dishes.

God bless San Francisco.

Shane sits across from me, wearing his "TV Is Gooder Than Books" tee and a frown. His face has long ago healed and he is back to looking his normal self, but he doesn't look particularly happy. After the server takes our orders, he lets out a heavy sigh.

"Being an intern sucks ass," he says, and I take a sip from my Diet Coke and shake my head.

"You need to start somewhere," I point out. Shane and I have been incredibly lucky to bag paid internships. He shouldn't be sulking, especially considering the kick-ass magazine he is working for now.

But Shane leans forward and lowers his voice. "Wanna hear what I do all day? I go for coffee runs, transcribe boring interviews and serve as the official wingman for the PA's and secretaries of the fucking place."

"What did you expect? It's a trendy magazine. Everybody wants to work there. You need to work your way to the top. I, on the other hand…" I point my forefinger to my temple. "Am going to work for a local magazine that no one reads. I may get lucky and actually write articles, but the downside is that absolutely no one will read them. Pow. " I pretend to shoot myself.

Shane winces.

"It'll get better." He pats the back of my hand.

"Or worse." I manage a smile. "So what's up with you and Izzy? I know she paid you a visit in Vegas, but she wouldn't tell me what you guys were up to, and knowing you, it couldn't have been good."

Shane throws his body back into his chair and laughs whole-heartedly. "Why not? I broke up with Gemma before I saw her because I knew she'd kill me if she found out I was seeing a chick. No brownie points for that?"

"Not if she lost her virginity with you and you abandoned her...again. Wait, you can't lose you virginity twice, but you can still get hurt again."

Shane rubs his face. "That's not the whole story, and it's inaccurate as hell, Miss Soon-To-Be Journalist."

I shrug. "Answer my question. Are you guys involved in any way? Her sudden secrecy is freaking me out."

"No," he reassures. "Honest to God, the reason why she's not telling you anything is that there is nothing to tell. She was just checking up on me and got me some room service in Vegas. And when we came back home, she stopped answering my calls. Again."

"That's good," I say, and quickly backpedal. "I mean, not good, but at least I know that she's okay."

I wish I hadn’t told Shane I know he took Izzy's V-card. I'm not sure he's supposed to know that I know. But here we are, staring at each other awkwardly, desperate to bury the thought of my best friend tapping my twin sister.

Good freaking thing we're not identical.

Shane clears his throat. "So any news from that nutjob?"

I stare at my hands. "Shane, I'm really sorry about what happened with him, but you have to at least try and see it from Ty’s point of view." I can't believe this sentence just left my mouth, but it's too late to take it back, I guess. "First, he got some vibes about you wanting me. Then, he misinterpreted a text you sent me and thought you threatened me. Then, he found out you tried to hit on me. After which, you accused him of some serious stuff—twice."