Mirage

(SHELLEY HENNIG. SHE/HER. CIS-FEMALE. ) Did I just see (BROOKLYN “BRIDGE” FERRO)? This ( TWENTY-NINE ) year old ( SALES REPRESENTATIVE ) has been living in Chicago for ( ELEVEN YEARS ). Some say that they are ( DRIVEN and BOLD ) as well as (HYPOCRITICAL and  TENSE). If they had a theme song, some might say that it would be ( 21 by SAMIA ). All I know is that I can’t wait to see what they bring to the Windy City. - (jess/24/aest/she/her) **filling in the hoodie twin sister connection / @hocstarters​ 

“Hey - tomato, tomahto.” He shrugs and watches as Bridge angrily takes the cereal box from him, and with about as much grace as a hyena feasting upon its prey, feeds her mouth with reckless abandon. He just loves pushing her buttons, mostly because this is how she reacts.

He’s distracted by the program on TV, some late-afternoon reality show he can only guess is a replay of something from a decade ago, judging by the fashion sense, when Bridge clarifies her remark to something, referring to someone much more familiar to him. “What, Asa?” He utters the name with such ridicule which would probably offend the man had he been in the room. “I’m not… fucking Asa, Jesus Christ,” he continues, the latter half of the sentence whispered as if he’s afraid the neighbors—or that particular neighbor—will hear. “Why on earth did you think Asa and I were fucking?”

Hoodie’s shock is worth the ridicule about her job. It’s worth the potential shoe to the head she’s about to get from her brother.  Bridge grins at him, mouth full of crunch berries, being every bit the feral-Ferro that she tries to ignore. “Yeah, Asa! Who else?” She yells far too loudly after swallowing, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth. She definitely doesn’t care if he hears. Maybe if they spoke about him enough, Asa himself would appear, and give his two cents. 

Bridge’s response didn’t surprise Sam one bit. The two had an interesting history to say the least. He nodded, pressing his lips together before letting out a defeated sigh. “Alright, I guess you still hate me. Are we ever going to talk about this? Try to settle our feelings and differences, or whatever,” he went on, his choice of words not being the best but clearly not realizing it. As if her attitude towards him wasn’t obvious, he helped himself to the seat, getting comfortable and ordering himself a refill. “I’m sorry okay?”

...

As a rule, Bridge didn’t let anyone in anymore. She’d learnt the hard way from her mother, the countless times her and her brother had forgiven and forgotten everything their mum had done, only to be disappointed once again. Sam was maybe the exception to the rule, but in the end, he’d only proven just how much you couldn’t trust others. As he pressed on, Bridge found her body winding tighter and tighter, muscles tensing up, “What is there to talk about? The secret kid? The failed engagement? Or the fact that I’m a moron for letting you in?” as much as she was angry at Sam, there was double the anger at herself. At his apology, Bridge stared at him, determined not to let him see that sadness in her features – but failing. “Are you really, though? Or are you just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”

​

“I haven’t quite figured it out yet…at first I thought it was just their way of saying they named the wines after some flowers to fit the theme of the botanical festival, but the more I drink, the more I realize that they used flowers for the flavor. I’m still trying to figure out how I feel about this.” She brought her glass up to her face, inspecting the liquid inside. After a few seconds she shrugged, clinking her glass against her friend’s as they continued their way around the event. “Cheers, though. I’m ready for the warmer weather this event usually signals. What else should we do?”

“I guess it’s not that different from using grapes, right?” she sniffed the wine before tentatively taking a sip, pleasantly surprised by the taste, “it’s not terrible, I guess. But yes! I’m ready for summer, I love Chicago but our winters are killer, and I can’t afford heating my house every night.” She was raised on blanket forts and drinking as many hot drinks as possible to stay warm in the Ferro household. That continued, even when she started making her own money. “Well, I have tomorrow off work for once, I guess we try and do as much as possible.... is there anything here that doesn’t involve flowers? My allergies are gonna hate me.”

There it was. A switch in her tone, a loss of control. The confidence she had approached him with seemed to be slowly fading as she fought hurled insults at him. If there was one thing the man was good at, it was getting under people’s skin. It was a skill he had possessed since he was young, carrying it on to his later years and pissing off just as many people as he had when he was a kid and teenager. “I’ll try not to lose sleep tonight. Although, if you want to have another go…I suppose I could sacrifice a couple hours.” She wasn’t winning that easy. Based on what usually happened during their interactions though, she had the capability of turning the tables and getting under his skin. “So, tell me, you enjoying the night?”

‎

“What are social climbing corporate impostors supposed to wear to work? Fuckin’… Givenchy & Gabonna or some shit?” He turned his attention towards the TV, his free arm now draped over the back of the couch, the cereal box resting against his chest. He tossed a single red berry into the air and tried to catch it with his mouth, only to have it hit his nose and ricochet off onto the carpet, rolling underneath the coffee table along with god knows whatever else was under there.

He would try another, but he was distracted by his twin’s retort. “If you’re talking about Karl, that was years ago. And he wouldn’t even touch me if the lights were on,” he argued, missing the rather pointed look Bridge gave him.

..

“Would you shut up about that? Aren’t brothers supposed to be supportive? I’m not a fucking imposter, I’m trying to pay for your stupid cereal,” As the berry missed his mouth and ricocheted across the room, Bridge snatched the box back from her brother, irritably shoving handfuls into her mouth. The more annoyed she got, the more like her brother she became.

“I’m a lawyer and yes, I probably can but I’d rather not do that on my day off.” While it sounded like a joke, Amelia sensed that the brunette really wanted her to which is why she decided to make her an offer. “I can make an exception for you though, seems like you need me to.” There was a chance that she’d be crossing a boundary once she does it but it wouldn’t be the first time. “To be ghosted but yes, that too. That’s unfortunate. There has to be one man out there who would change your mind about their species.”

Bridge’s eyebrows rose in surprise, small if not mixed smile growing on her lips, “you’d do that?” She sipped on her iced latte, pausing to think over whether it was a good idea or not, before her mouth spoke for her, “I don’t need it I just get told I don’t know who I am a lot. Mostly by my brother.” Bridge tried to refrain from rolling her eyes at Amelia’s words, but couldn’t stop the downturn in her lips, “nope. Once again, maybe my brother, but he’s also kind of the worst. My luck with love is just terrible, I don’t remember the last good man I dated.”

26: What are you craving right now?

A raise, a holiday, a giant bowl of chili cheese fries.

37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?

 in my experience, both just let you get hurt again. Is there an option to do neither?

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Don’t call me baby.

“Why do I have a hard time believing you right now?” Graham asked, raising a brow. If she planned on sticking around simply to annoy him and get under his skin, then he’d do the same. Two could play her game. “We’re human. Why not admit that you enjoyed having sex with me? As much as we hate each other, you have to admit that the night we spent together was something else.” He said with a shrug, the whiskey glass making its way up to his lips once more. “But don’t flatter yourself if you think you’re living rent free in my head. You’re not. I just like sex.”

Hoodie sat on the armchair of the couch, towel dangling dangerously off the side of his thigh. He grabbed the thread hanging between his teeth and continued flossing. “We’ve been naked together in the womb. And you act like you’ve never seen Hoodie, Jr. before.” A stubborn piece of lettuce (the only vegetable he’ll ever eat if it’s on a burger other than tomato in ketchup form) refused to budge despite how hard he sucked it out with his tongue running over that gap. 

Bridge took out the box of highly-coveted goodies and he rolled his eyes when she made a whole show out of eating his cereal (which, it’s worth noting, she’d paid for with her hard-earned money). “Fine,” he said and begrudgingly pushed himself off where he was perched to pad towards his bedroom. There, he threw on some boxers, a pair of sweats, and a white tank top he’d already worn yesterday that currently sported a small fudge stain on the collar. The towel left on the foot of his bed and the floss tossed into the garbage bin beside his door.

“Parkour!” He jumped from behind the couch, almost hitting Bridge’s head in the process, landing on the other end, ass nearly falling out, and both feet now on his sister’s lap. “There, all dressed, now gimme.” The cereal box was snatched from Bridge’s hands in record time, his own fisting through the opening to grab a handful. “So… speaking of getting dressed, what’d your dickwad boss say it was this time?” he said, while simultaneously trying to stuff his mouth with all the yummy goodness of breakfast foods at five in the afternoon. “Also, you pretend to hate him as if you wouldn’t fuck him in a second to get a raise.”

..

“And I never want to see Hoodie Jr. again in my life,” Bridge’s face upturned into a scowl, edging away from the side of the couch where her brother sat, making a show of flossing, “I don’t know why you’re bothering,” Bridge nodded to the thread in his hands, not knowing about the burger, “the one time you take up flossing isn’t gonna make up for the amount of crap you eat,” for good measure, she grabbed another handful of of cereal. Nagging came easier when it was her brother, almost second nature for Bridge, like she’d been on his back since they were in the womb.

In the time it took for him to make himself decent, Bridge continued to graze on his cereal, flicking on the TV and tuning into some gaudy reality show while she waited. “Watch it, moron!” it was more of a reflex as Bridge dodged his flying feet, not even bothering to push them off her or act surprised when the box flew from her hands into his. “Something about how H&M isn’t appropriate to wear to work, as if anyone could tell the difference. Apparently it ‘gives the wrong impression’ to our clients,”  she made air quotes accompanied by a disgruntled face, as though she weren’t about to go shopping for a new wardrobe the next moment she could. 

The unimpressed face only deepened at her brother’s words, her cheeks flushing as she tried to snatch the box away him, “gross, the guy is a dinosaur.” Wanting to divert the attention off her and her boss, Bridge’s eyes meaningfully flicked to the wall they shared with one particular Irish neighbour, “besides, I’ll leave the dinosaur fucking to you.”

Hoodie had just gotten out of the shower and was flossing in front of the bathroom mirror in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist when his sister had arrived. With a thread of dental floss hanging between his two front teeth, he sauntered over to the living room where Bridge had collapsed on the couch.

“You buy the Crunch Berries I asked you?” he said, pointedly ignoring everything else his sister had yelled across the living room upon arrival— a favor from that morning in exchange for having to listen to another one of her after-work rants. “Crunch Berries first, then we talk shit about your boss.”

Why did Bridge even bother talking? She stared at her brother, taking a moment to figure out what the hell he was talking about before it clicked. The fucking Crunch Berries. A trade off for her near-constant bitching about her job.  "Rude. Are you gonna put pants on?" Bridge shot back, face unmoving,  “and a shirt. I didn’t ask to be blinded.” 

Graham watched as she got settled, realizing that she didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon. He let out a small huff of annoyance before lifting his glass to his lips, taking a rather large swig before setting it back down on the bar. Hearing her question, he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. He wasn’t one to share, especially with her. Their conversations were usually arguments about nothing, and he preferred to keep it that way (or have none at all.) Even in the dim lighting, he was able to catch the small coloring spread across her cheeks. A satisfied smirk appeared on his features as a result. “You know, you spend so much time insulting me as if it actually hurts. Every word that comes out of your mouth isn’t something that I haven’t heard before. Although, I will admit I prefer when we’re using our bodies to talk instead of words.”

...