Page 79 of The Incredible Ordinary

On the street corner, I glance over my shoulder.

Jordan is still outside, standing on the sidewalk, head tilted up, eyes on the sky, a small smile on his face.

My chest jolts savagely.

Fuck.

Me.

MILÁN

I standin front of my closet, increasingly frantic about my lack of options. Most of my wardrobe can be summarized in one word: slob. There are a lot of sweatpants and sweatshirts in there. Lots of T-shirts. A few pairs of jeans. I swear I own more than this meager selection, but by now, I’m not quite sure where most of it is.

I huff in frustration, slam the doors shut, and stalk to Aiden’s room. He’s sprawled out on the bed, a pillow covering his head, snoring softly. The blinds are drawn, and Aiden is dead to the world.

I hit the light switch and slide the door of his wardrobe open. Hangers clatter while I rummage through the selection.

“I hope you’re planning to murder me shortly, because one way or another, a homicide is going to take place in this room.”

“You’re not awake. This is all happening in a dream,” I say distractedly while I pull a shirt off a hanger.

“More like in a nightmare,” he grumbles and presses his face into a pillow. “Go away!”

“Do these go together?” I hold up a pair of dark gray slacks and a light blue button-down. “And do you have shoes and a belt for this?”

“I hope you die a long and painful death,” he says before he drops the pillow and pushes himself up into a sitting position. He frowns at me. “Why are you dressing up?”

“The world deserves the eye candy.” I snap my fingers. “Seriously. Shoes. Belt.”

“Seriously. Fuck. Off.”

“Give me what I want, and I’ll be gone in a minute.”

He growls, throws the pillow onto the floor, and rolls off the bed. “Big brothers are great, they said,” he mutters. “Of course you should find yours, Aiden, they said. Fucking liars, all of them.”

He pulls open a drawer and slaps a belt into my hand, then picks out a shoe box with a label and a photograph of the shoes it contains.

“You know, this level of organization is not healthy at all.”

He ignores me while he looks me up and down with a frown. “Where are you headed?”

“A birthday dinner.”

He leans his shoulder against the wall. “That’s nice. Whose birthday?”

“Theo’s.”

He nods and sends me a long look.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with them.”

I sniff pointedly. “I smell another lecture.”

“No,” he says indignantly.

I quirk my brow at him. He stares back at me, jaw clenched.

And breaks.