“Sorry. I should know that, seeing as how I’m an expert painter now.”

“True. I should just let you finish this for me,” I teased.

“No way. That’s amazing. I love it.”

“You love everything I paint.”

“It’s true. But this one is . . . different. Are those birds dead?” He was referring to the ones on the bottom. “That’s a little dark for you.”

“They’re not dead. They’re sleeping. Do they look dead?”

“They look cool. This is supposed to be the sunrise, isn’t it?”

“That was my inspiration.”

I set my palette on the hutch to my right, the one whose drawers were full of art supplies, and turned to Cooper. “I thought you were going straight to bed for a w—” I stopped. “Whoa. You have paint all over you.”

“I know! That’s why I had to come by here first. It was important for me to show you that we’re twins now.”

I smiled and stepped forward. “I don’t think I’ve ever managed to get this much paint on me. Did you bathe in it?” I pinched a section of his shirt between my fingers and pulled it away from his body. “Coral? You painted the house coral?”

“It’s not coral. I think the official name is soft peach.”

I bit my lip and dropped his shirt. I now had some soft peach paint on my thumb and pointer finger. I wiped it on his cheek and he scrunched his nose.

“The house actually didn’t turn out half bad.”

“Huh. Well, I’m surprised my mom let you in looking like that.”

“Your mom loves me.”

This was true.

“Besides, she’s used to letting people covered in paint walk around this house.” His finger brushed along my collarbone, tracing a line of paint I had there. Tingles shot down my arms and I took a step back.

“How do you get paint on your neck anyway?” he asked.

“The same way you did.”

“Have I left any clothes over here lately?”

“I think your board shorts are still here.”

He turned and headed for my room. I shook out my still-tingling arms and followed after him.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I’m going to shower here and then you’re going to work a knot out of my neck.”

“No, I’m not.”

He went to the corner of my room, where his clothes were still draped over my chair. He picked up the shorts, snapped my leg with them, then headed for the door.

“What about the shirt?” I asked.

He waved his hand through the air. “It’s dirty.”

“But you need a shirt.” I went to my closet and flipped through my stacks until I found the biggest one I owned, then tossed it to him.

He held it up. “You want me to wear a hot-pink breast cancer run shirt?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

“Oh, and before you shower. I got something.” I snatched the crickets off the end of my bed and held them up for Cooper to see while I pointed at the list. “Try something new.”

“What is it?”

“Dried crickets.”

“Crickets? Are you being serious?”

I tore open the bag and poured them into my hand. There were six of them. Cooper stepped closer, took one off my extended palm, and popped it into his mouth.

“Mmm. Salty.” Then he walked to the door.

I let out a huff of air. I had hoped he’d put up more of a fight than that. I’d hoped that maybe I’d found something he was afraid of. When he got to the door, he turned. “Are you going to try one?”

Without thinking too hard, I stuck one in my mouth and chewed it up quickly. He was right—it was salty and crunchy and tasted a bit like dry grass. “That wasn’t too bad.”

“Not at all. But that doesn’t count for me.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ve eaten dried crickets before.”

I threw the rest of them at him, but they landed on my floor five feet away. “You brat. Well, it counted for me.”

“Okay, but we have to try something new together too. Something we both haven’t done. Something epic. Like that sunrise.”

I smiled, hearing he thought our outing was epic. “Okay.”

He backed out of my room, and I watched him disappear behind the bathroom door across the hall.

FIFTEEN

“You really shouldn’t shower here!” I called out to him. Like I needed the person I was trying not to be in love with waltzing around my bathroom . . . showering.

I thought he hadn’t heard me, but the door popped back open and he leaned out. “What?”

Gah. I was being ridiculous. He’d showered here before. “Nothing. Go shower.”

I picked up the dried crickets from the carpet and deposited them in my trash. Then I added another checkmark to my list. I was still on track. Three paintings almost done and nearly half my list. I was convinced I could make the deadline now, but not completely convinced Mr. Wallace would see any growth. Different didn’t necessarily mean better.

When I walked by the bathroom, Cooper was humming some tune I didn’t recognize. I joined my grandpa and mom in the living room.

“Where’s Cooper? Trailing more coral paint through the house?” Grandpa asked.

“Coral, right? I’m glad we agree on the color.” I gestured down the hall with my head and sat down. “He’s washing the coral paint down the drain.”

My mom, who had been sitting on the couch reading her True Crime book, raised her eyebrows. “How’s the list coming?”

“Pretty good. I still have a few to do. But I am halfway in love, according to Grandpa.”

“Oh yes, I heard about Elliot,” she said.

“You two are like gossipy tweens. No secrets can be shared here.”

“I am a vault,” my mom said in faux offense.

“And I am the safe inside the vault,” my grandpa said.

I rolled my eyes.

“We don’t tell anyone else,” Mom said.

I almost said, of course you don’t, you don’t see anyone else. But there was some sarcasm even I resisted.

“Well, except Dad.”

“You told Dad?”

“Of course, honey, he likes to hear these things. He said you haven’t emailed him lately.”

I cringed. He’d sent me a response to my last email where he’d listed off several alternative name choices I could pick from and asked what other experiences I’d done off my list that he could tell me he disapproved of. I’d read the email on my phone, meaning to respond once I was in front of my laptop, but I never had. “I know. I forgot. At this point, I’m just waiting for his weekly phone call. That’s easier.”

My mom sighed. “Easier does not promote communication.”

“I’m going to put that on a T-shirt.”

“Seriously, Abby.”

“I know, Mom. I’ll email him.” I headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to get some ice cream. Cricket aftertaste isn’t great.”

By the time I had scooped myself a bowl of mint chip ice cream and gone back to the living room, Cooper was sitting on the couch, hair still dripping and hot-pink shirt too small on him. It stretched tight on his biceps and across his chest. I quickly looked away before my grandpa saw me staring.