whywhywhywhy what if they saw—
Sam takes a breath. No one saw. The twins will do the usual: raid the kitchen, argue about the injustice of being seventeen without their own car, and insult each other as they go upstairs. Moxie will come down soon.
Nothing happened.
Instead, two shadows fall over his head and – perfectly synchronised – they vault over the back of the sofa and land on either side of Sam.
He snatches at the tub as buttons fly into his face.
‘Saaaaammy,’ Jack says.
‘Sam.’ Jeremy pats Sam’s knee.
Sam does the logical thing – he panics.
They know.
They’ll see what a miserable pathetic creep he is. Who steals house keys? Who does that? They’ll hit him and throw him out and—
‘We need to have a little chat.’ Jeremy fakes a demure smile.
Mischief lights Jack’s eyes. ‘About your intentions with our purest of little sisters.’
The air gushes out of Sam’s lungs.
Oh.
Then he stiffens right back up.
Wait.
‘Since you’re here so much,’ Jeremy says.
‘Without supervision.’ Jack throws an arm around Sam’s shoulders and effectively pins him there.
This is worse than being caught with the key. ‘I haven’t …’ Sam says.
‘Hush, hush.’ Jeremy leans slightly into his grip on Sam’s knee, proof that Sam is going nowhere ever again. ‘Let the big brothers talk.’
‘See,’ Jack says, ‘Moxie hasn’t had a boyfriend before.’
Jeremy flicks Jack’s head. ‘Dude, she has so. Remember that kid with the glasses last year? I think she dumped him after he said girls don’t like superhero movies.’
‘Fine, a serious boyfriend,’ Jack says. ‘Sam is practically a live-in.’
They have no idea.
‘We’re not like that … I mean, it’s not …’ Sam says weakly.
‘Shut up.’ Jeremy is calmly pleasant. ‘It is. You’re just both babies and too shy to smooch.’
Jack’s fingers dig into Sam’s shoulder. ‘And this is the part where we remind you Moxie has three strapping older brothers.’
Sam swallows. ‘And you’ll kill me if I hurt her? That’s cliché, guys.’
‘Moxie can pound you herself,’ Jeremy says.
‘And then when she’s done,’ Jack’s eyes are evilly bright, ‘we’d remove your entrails via your nose and use them to truss you up like a Christmas turkey and then toss you to the sharks while you wear nothing but your boxers.’
Jeremy gives Jack a tired look. ‘Why so complicated? Just say we’ll kill him.’
‘We’ll kill you,’ says Jack. ‘Bloodily.’
‘Well, I’m not doing anything.’ Sam clutches buttons. ‘I mean – we haven’t even … kissed or anything.’
‘Oh.’ Jeremy’s face falls slightly. There’s a pause. ‘Do you need advice?’
Jack smacks his twin on the head. ‘That’s the opposite of what we’re doing here.’
‘Aw, come on,’ Jeremy says. ‘Sometimes the babies need helpful hints. But just small tips to match Sammy’s small height.’
‘Yeah, are you sure you’re not, like, twelve, Sammy?’ Jack says.
Sam glares.
There’s a thump on the stairs and then Moxie appears. The goodness of catching up with her friend shines in her red cheeks – until she sees her brothers. Her brows tighten in that trademark lemon scowl.
‘What,’ she growls, ‘is going on here?’
Jack rumples Sam’s hair. ‘We’re just giving him the safe sex talk.’
Sam chokes.
Jeremy whacks him helpfully on the back.
Moxie folds her arms. ‘Oh, so this is a display of dominating male chauvinism, as if you have ownership of me and feel it’s your duty to “protect” me because I somehow “belong” to you.’
Jeremy spreads his hands out in innocence. ‘We’re just making sure Sammy has honourable intentions.’
‘Do it again,’ Moxie says, ‘and you’ll find itching powder all over your soap.’
‘You don’t even own …’ Jeremy starts.
Moxie is pure darkness. ‘Would you like to bet?’
‘We’d tell Dad,’ Jack says. ‘And you’d be in deep trouble.’
Moxie points towards the stairs. ‘Don’t even think of playing a blackmail game with me, because I have so much on you.’
Jack snorts.
Moxie tilts her head, tapping her fingers against her chin in mock consideration. ‘I suppose I’ll just randomly mention to Dad that your little “summer begins, let’s have fun!” camping trip involved alcohol.’
Jeremy and Jack glance at each other over the top of Sam’s head.
‘You guys aren’t allowed to drink?’ Sam says.
‘Our mother was Greek and Catholic,’ Jeremy explains, ‘and Dad isn’t but he’s raising us like she’d want, you know? Safe and strict. So no drinking. Or swearing.’
‘Or sex,’ Jack adds.
Moxie smiles sweetly. ‘There’s one you’ll never get to struggle with.’
Jack growls and starts to get up but Jeremy grabs the back of his shirt. ‘We’ll find you a nice human with low standards someday.’
‘Don’t Catholics drink wine?’ Sam says. ‘Or the blood of Jesus or something?’
‘I’ll beat you for your ignorance later,’ Moxie says. ‘It’s just our dad has a zero tolerance policy on alcohol. So keep that in mind, you two –’ she aims this at the twins ‘– and remember that Dad will literally lecture you for nine hours if he knows you’ve been drinking. Remember that time he grounded you for like three months and you had to always be in his sight?’
Jeremy sounds reflective. ‘Ah. How could I forget? All our friends thought we’d died.’
Jack looks like murder. ‘I hate you, Moxie.’
She batters her eyelashes. ‘Love you too, sweet cakes.’
Jeremy pops to his feet and smiles brightly. ‘Well! I have stuff to do! ’Night all!’