Dylan taps his fingers on the caramel coffee table and takes a sip of his drink. He lowers his sunglasses and looks towards the pool, where a girl is lying in his brother’s arms.

Dyane Mitchell. The girl had haunted his dreams when he was young and still haunts it now. He looks on as his twin brother Damien starts to tickle her. Jealously rushes through his body and he instinctively stands up and gets ready to pound his brother into mincemeat. He knows it’s stupid, that he can never beat Damien in a million years, but he cannot stand seeing Dyane being violated by him.

“Dy! Wadcha’ doing?” Her sweet voice somehow travels through his head and he snaps out of the I’m-gonna-kick-ya-ass mode. One day, he swears, the one who fills her head would be him, just as she’s always in his mind. Dylan knows he has to stick it out. Unfortunately, for Damien, Dylan also knows the very thing that can break the happy couple up. And Damien has no idea what he knows.

“Looking at you in your bikini,” he jokes back, relief in his voice. I can’t say it, he thinks. As much as he wants Dyane to know the truth, he knows the truth will break her heart, and will cause serious turmoil. The scary thing about it is that he actually knows the truth. He looks at Dyane again, the girl he has grown to love. Can he just break her heart like this?

Dyane smiles and gives a little wave, then devotes her attention back to Damien. Dylan watches in jealousy as Damien hugs her tightly and presses his lips to hers. “I’m going to make lemonade. Want any?” No response. He rolls his palm into a ball and ignores the lovey-dovey scene in front of him. He walks into the kitchen, which is the only place he finds himself relaxing in.

Someday she’ll know the truth. Dylan crushes a few lemons and adds water, making a pitcher of perfect lemonade. For as long as he can remember, he has always been the cook of the family. He doesn’t know when he started cooking, but he faintly recalls being in the kitchen frequently at the age of nine.

He’s always been the family freak, to put it bluntly. His parents have made it obvious that comparing cooking and track, they’ve always chosen track. Dylan doesn’t really mind it. He’s long past the stage where he gets really angry when his parents choose to boast about Damien instead of him in front of their friends. But this is where Dylan feels at home, in the kitchen. He loves making good food, and better still, having Dyane say good things about his cooking. He knows he’s a damned good cook and he’s not going to waste his talent by moping around.

Dyane. He pours out the lemonade into three glasses. The three of them have always been the best of friends, until love came along. And it hit both Dyane and Damien together. He smiles at the memory of the three of them trudging down the street in their Halloween costumes, trick-or-treating. And the memory of the three of them claiming to be the “Three Musketeers”. Back when they were kids, people often thought that the three of them were identical triplets, each with cropped brown hair and large blue eyes.

In fact, Dyane can easily pass for another of their twins. She’s definitely beautiful enough. Even her name sounds similar. He’s heard the story of how his mother and her mother were best friends when they were both pregnant at the same time a million times. But she’s beautiful now, a small voice reminds him. Dyane has without doubt, grown into a beautiful high school girl. Dylan knows loads of guys would kill to go out with her. Including his other best friend, Carlos. Thinking of Carlos makes Dylan’s blood boil. He recalls how Carlos tried to make a move on her during Ezra’s birthday party.

“Dy? You okay?” Damien asks out loud. Dylan blinks. Damien hasn’t got a clue about how much Dylan loves Dyane. Dylan nods and turns his attention to Damien, who is waiting expectantly. He hands two glasses to him.

“Thanks man.” Damien smiles his famous killer smile, which is known to melt the hearts of poor innocent girls. Damn. Dylan slams his hand on the table. Why is it that everyone likes Damien? He gulps down the whole glass of lemonade and fury burns inside of him. He looks outside; and sees Damien and Dyane getting cozy.

Dylan throws the glass into the dishwasher and storms up the stairs to his room.

He lies flat on his bed and looks up at the blue wallpapered ceiling. Dylan hates his life. Very, very much. He picks up the remote and presses “Play”, and sounds of T.A.T.U come flooding the room. In an instant, he feels much more relaxed.

There’s shouting downstairs. Dylan sits up, alert. He hears Dyane’s high-pitched voice. He knows her too well to know that she’s mad at someone. Presumably Damien. Damien’s voice comes next, shouting something back. Dylan feels his pulse races. Can this be what he’s dreamt off for ages?

He walks casually to the door, masking his feelings and thoughts. Dylan takes one deep breath and opens his door, just to hear the front door shut with a loud bang. Damien buries his head in his hands and runs them through his hair, then disappear into the den. A small smile creeps over Dylan’s face.

Perhaps it’s time …

*