The Seat Exchange

Chapter 1

The natural lighting in the living room was slowly diminishing and, with it, my time to work on the current art show submission. Stealing a moment to stretch my back, I swiped fallen tendrils of hair off of my brow with the back of my hand. I'd been painting since I returned home from a renaissance art history lecture earlier that morning and sitting in a stool was starting to take its toll on me. The paint brush in my hand felt heavy and my eyes were having a hard time focusing on the canvas. Maybe it was time to call it quits for the day.

"Charlotte, care for a snack break?"

Veer, my roommate, materialized behind me in the cat-print apron that Alexandra, my twin sister, and I bought him over the winter holidays last year.

I eyed the bowl in his hands through narrowed lids. "What is that?"

If Veer was aware of my suspicion he didn't show it. Instead, he stepped closer, placing the contents of the bowl on full display. "A little something I threw together, loosely inspired by a dish I saw on the Food Network last night. Want some?"

I inspected the thick, oatmeal-like slime. Why were there chunks?

Veer's unnaturally white teeth gleamed at me. It was hard to say no when he had a smile like that. But I had learned better than to accept any more of Veer's experimental dishes. Despite being an engineering student, Veer had absolutely no interest in technology and spent most of his time in the cramped kitchen of our townhouse apartment. On days where Alex and I barely had the brain power to toast a slice of bread, his passion became a heaven sent. It almost outweighed the rare occasions where he'd transform into a mad culinary scientist and accidentally gave us food poisoning.

Almost.

"Is that gravy?" I asked, eyeing the brown sludge that was dripping off the side of the bowl.

"Something like that."

"I don't want to know, do I?"

Veer's nose scrunched up. "Probably not."

Before the last word was out of his mouth, a mild scent wafted over and assaulted my nose. The salty, and fishy smell reminded me of wet cat food. That thought alone triggered my gag reflex and I covered my mouth with my wrist, a paint-coated brush hanging limply in my fingers. "That's not what we're having for dinner, right?"

"Oh God, no." Veer waved off the suggestion. "You really think I want to clean up your sister's barf off of the floor again? I'm going to have Daniel try it when he comes over later."

Daniel was Veer's freshman boyfriend of six months. And the only person alive that didn't refuse to be Veer's guinea pig when it came to his creative recipes. They had met last year when Daniel had come for a campus tour. Alex and I would often joke that if Veer and Daniel ever broke up, he'd have a hard time finding someone else that would put up with his creations.

"Samosas are in the oven," Veer called over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen. "We're having chana masala tonight," he paused for a moment before adding in a sing-song voice. "And garlic bread."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God."

With cramping fingers, I reached around to untie my own—much less pretty—apron, just as the front door swung open.

"It smells so good in here," Alex announced, the last rays of daylight filtering through the open door.

Fortunately for her, she only smelt the samosas in the oven and did not get a whiff of Veer's cat-food-fondue.

"How was French?" I asked, tugging the paint splattered fabric over my head.

"No different than when I took it last year," my identical twin muttered as she shut the door behind her. Her short mousey brown hair was set in light waves that framed her round face.