The pie truce ryder twin.., p.1
The PI(E) Truce: Ryder Twins Book 1, page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Daya James
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact authordayajames@gmail.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Narrative Nook
1st edition 2024
Table of Contents
Diana and Carson's Playlist
Prologue - Not-So Sweet Revenge
1. What the Heck?
2. Give Me A Break
3. Not Buying It
4. I Have an Idea
5. I’ll Take The Pie
6. Growing Tolerance
7. Can’t Believe I’m Doing This
8. My Spontaneous Sister
9. Weirdest Night Yet
10. Late Night Walks
11. I Don’t Know This Feeling
12. Field Trip, Yay!
13. Driving Sucks
14. No Rides, Just Sweet Stuff
15. NOT Bartholomew
16. Sweet Suffering Lips
17. The Feelings Are Back Again
18. I Might Have a Problem
19. A Distraction I Didn’t Think I Needed
20. The Most Impulsive Thing I’ve Ever Done
21. Just Feeling It
22. Together
Epilogue - Full Circle Moments
Acknowledgements
About the author
Also by Daya James
Diana and Carson's Playlist
I Can’t Stand It - Harbour
Campus - Vampire Weekend
Real Estate - Adam Melchor
Diana - One Direction
Florida! - Taylor Swift ft. Florence + the Machine
All Falls Down - Lizzy McAlpine
Dirty Diana - Michael Jackson
Fearless (Taylor’s Version) - Taylor Swift
Cherry Wine - Zachary Knowles
Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier
Kiss Her You Fool - Kids that Fly
Stop - Anthony Ramos
Used to Me - Luke Chiang
Late Night Talking - Harry Styles
New Perspective - Noah Kahan
Honey - Coastal Club
Liz - Remi Wolf
De Selby (Part 1) - Hozier
House Song - Searows
Cherry Wine - Hozier
TubThumping - Chumbawamba
Like to Be You (feat. Julia Michaels) - Shawn Mendes
Malibu - Miley Cyrus
Meddle About - Chase Atlantic
The Scientist - Coldplay
Someone New - Hozier
Unkind – Taylor Bradshaw
For all the strong girls who just really need a hug.
I got you.
Prologue - Not-So Sweet Revenge
Carson
Late July
Nothing screams summer like a good prank.
I stand by the unoccupied house, hiding with a lemon meringue pie at the ready for my best friend, Jake Parker, to show up. Earlier this morning, I woke up to a pie in the face thanks to him and figured it was time to return the favor.
So when he left for the gym in the morning, I took it upon myself to walk to the village and grab a frozen lemon meringue pie that I let thaw.
Given how hot it can get in July, and in Los Angeles of all places, it didn’t take very long.
Every time I hear something move even slightly, I can’t help but turn my head to see if that’s Jake, but it always ends up being some neighbor passing by, taking out the trash or a car horn.
It’s Thursday morning, for crying out loud. How are the streets so busy?
Jake and I arrived yesterday and two of our roommates—Adrian and Enzo—are supposed to be coming later this evening. There’s much more for me to do, like settle into my room, but it can wait once I get even with Jake.
I check my watch, seeing the hour hand at one. How long does it take someone to work out? Jake is not even a gym rat.
The creaky fence alerts me and the sound of crunching dirt gets louder, breaking me out of my thoughts. Finally, he’s here. Pie in hand and determination set, I lunge out of my hiding place and smack the pie square onto his face.
A gasp takes me by surprise, because of how high-pitched it was. As far as I know, we don’t have any girls living in the house in front of us.
I realize that the footsteps I heard earlier do not belong to my best friend. The people—yes, I mean people—were actually two unfamiliar girls around my age. One of whom is now covered in lemon meringue pie from the neck up.
A short girl with long dark braids has one hand over her mouth and stands at a distance from me and her—I assume—friend. Her brown eyes are wide as we watch her friend wipe the filling from her eyes and mouth.
“Oh. My. Gosh.” The girl covered in pie narrows her bright hazel-green eyes at me. “Are you fucking insane?!”
Holy cracked knuckles, she’s got a set of lungs.
“Hey, what’s with all the comm—oh shit!” Jake stops in his tracks and takes in the scene in front of him. His jaw drops slightly when he realizes what just happened.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You couldn’t have come earlier?”
He shakes his head and walks around the girl, towards our house. “You dug this grave on your own, Carson! I’m staying out of this shit.” That son of a bitch.
Clearly, I’ve never put myself in a situation like this before—thrown pie at an unsuspecting cute girl and gotten yelled at by said girl—so I’m a little lost for words at the moment. All that falls out of my mouth is, “I swear that was an accident.”
But the brunette standing in front of me is full of more words than a dictionary. “Yeah, and I accidentally chose to live in front of an overgrown child. Totally my fucking mistake.”
She turns on her heels and storms off. Her friend doesn’t follow behind, instead choosing to stay in her spot. “You definitely made an impression on her.”
I let out a breath and run one hand through my brown hair. “You think she’ll forget?”
She scoffs. “Never. Diana doesn’t forget things like that. I’m just glad it didn’t hit me.”
Ah, so the spitfire has a name. I arch a brow at the girl in braids. “You wouldn’t want pie in the morning?”
“I wouldn’t want pie at all,” she emphasizes before holding out her hand to me. “I’m Lucia, by the way. We just started moving our stuff in so she’s a little tight-wounded. Don’t mind her.”
I grab her hand and shake it. For a girl so small, she’s got a tight grip. “Well, I hope she doesn’t hold it over me for the next twelve months.” I glance at the trail leading to the gate, where drops of pie filling lead like footsteps, getting smaller and smaller.
Lucia laughs. “With Diana, anything’s possible.”
“Even forgiveness?”
She nods. “That’s possible. Maybe don’t bring a pie with you the next time you speak with her.”
1
What the Heck?
Diana
October
I can sense doomsday coming as my now-graded calculus midterm is placed on my desk, face-down.
Mathematics was never my strong suit—especially calculus. Numbers and letters? I don’t care what anyone in my major of classical studies says—the Sumerians were high as fuck back then.
Same with Newton. Fuck that guy.
The test is face down on my desk and my table mate Lucia is staring down at her paper, frown lines creasing her brows. That’s not a good sign. She’s a psychology major but chose to take this class with me because both of us were in dire need of fulfilling our general math credits to graduate.
Neither of us needs it for our respective careers but apparently, the private prissy school that is the University of Southern California requires it.
Lucia, however, is much better at math than I am; if she were to not do well on this particular exam, then there’s not a doubt in my mind that I am utterly fucked.
I tried my best—I really did—but I guess there was no hope for me after all.
Closing my eyes, I slowly flipped my test over and creaked one eye open. In red ink, near the top of the paper where my name is written, is the number seventy circled messily.
Oof, a low C. That’s not good. Let doomsday begin. I can smell the failure already.
“Lucia,” I whisper. “What did you get?”
Her brown eyes trail over to me, panic lacing the dark irises. She shakes her head slightly, giving me the signal that I dreaded: she didn’t do well, either.
I read over the markings my professor made on each question, my heart beating faster and faster with each incorrect answer. This was the midterm I’d been studying my ass off for weeks yet, unlike history and other humanities, numbers were never a breeze.
“Maybe the scores will be curved,” Lucia whispers. “If everyone else did as bad as us, then that could end up being a B instead of a C.” She taps a dark green fingernail on my test.
I swivel my head around the classroom, not as hopeful as my friend. Unlike most of my classical studies lectures, the size of this class is approximatel y twenty or thirty students, give or take. With every class, there’s always that one kid who will ruin it. I scan the classroom at each person, wondering who it could be.
Who could play a contributing factor in my future?
I can’t afford for my grade to go any lower than its current standing, which isn’t great. My entire undergrad depends on this.
“Okay, students,” Professor Scott’s booming voice brings us all to our attention. Though he may be in his sixties, with graying hair and what my mother would call “old man glasses” perched on top of his head, he still has that ability to silence an entire room of students who are just impatiently waiting to walk across that stage and be handed their diploma. “I hope you had enough time to review your scores. Put them away, as we’ll be moving on to the next chapter.”
Someone must have raised their hand because after reaching the wood podium, he calls out, “Yes, Bailey?”
I turn around to find the box-blond in a red crewneck with the school’s logo, much like half of the class, seated at the very back. Bailey Emerson. I’m not familiar with her but my roommates attend a couple of the parties that her sorority hosts.
“Will our scores be curved this time around?”
Scott pinches his nose and sighs. From where I’m seated—the second to the first row—it’s a very visible sigh. He was expecting someone to ask that. “I’m afraid not this time, Ms. Emerson.”
“What was the highest score?” Bailey asks, in that nasally voice that drives me insane; even though I don’t believe she’s annoying, precisely. I just don’t associate myself with her social circles.
Though I must admit, I am curious about the scores.
“A ninety-five,” he answers. “It was the only A in this class so the rest of you better study harder for the next quiz. I won’t go so easy.”
My eyes widen and I swear I hear someone choking on air in surprise. A ninety-five? Only one righteous asshole with the brain of Einstein or Athena got an A on the midterm? Honestly, I’m a little scared for the rest of the semester if everyone else did so terribly.
Scott moves onto the lecture and I try my best to keep up. The thing with calculus is that the subject is so meticulous. One little slip-up and you could go downhill. The stakes are so much higher with math and science than with English and History. In the humanities, there are so many interpretations of stories and past events.
Math? There’s only one answer. Everything else is wrong.
At least, that’s how I see it.
When class is over, Lucia and I walk out of the classroom—where I find myself glaring at another guy who bumped into me—and out of the building, heading towards the Main Library before my shift begins. She also needs to start on another paper for one of her psychology classes.
“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” She asks while we look at the shelves for a particular book she asks.
I shrug. “Homework, work, and Gilmore Girls.”
She chuckles. “You do that every day, though.”
I nod. I don’t need to argue otherwise—Lucia has been one of my best friends since we were both assigned roommates our first year in the dorms. Even now, we live off-campus with each other; along with two other girls and one guy because housing in South Central Los Angeles is crazy expensive.
“I’ll order takeout this time,” she assures me. “I still owe you for introducing those Croquetas to me. They were heavenly.”
I grin. “No need. You showed me what real Ethiopian food is supposed to taste like.” Lucia is technically an Eritrean-American to her core but because her culture isn’t well known due to how fucked up it can be—her words, not mine—Ethiopian food is the closest we can get.
She pushes each book aside and reshuffles them. I groan internally, knowing that I’m the one who will have to arrange them. Why can’t people have enough human decency to just place their book exactly where it’s supposed to go? It not only drives me crazy but the head librarian has the absolute worst case of OCD.
If she suffers, then so does everyone else.
A phone ringing breaks through the silence of the library. The Main Library is usually pretty quiet, especially on Fridays, when everyone is getting ready for the weekend, doing who the hell knows what.
Lucia checks her phone and her dark eyes widen. “You will not believe what Bailey just sent me, D.”
I raise a brow, busying myself with reorganizing the books. “What now?”
“She just found out who got the A.”
My hands freeze over an old book I don’t bother reading the spine of. “So?”
“Aren’t you curious to know? Isn’t that little voice in your head telling you to prod me for details?”
Honestly? Yes. I wanna know the name of the son of a bitch (or just, bitch) who messed with everyone else’s grade.
I give in to my curiosity and wait for Lucia to show me the screen so I can go find the person responsible.
My jaw drops in horror. “No.”
2
Give Me A Break
Carson
“Hey, compa,” my housemate, Enzo greets me as I close the door behind me and slip my sneakers off. The most important rule in this house is to always slip my shoes off the moment I walk through this door. I don’t understand why but it’s the only rule that’s been enforced in the three months we’ve been living here.
I grunt as I drop my bag onto the ground right in front of the couch and fall onto it, stomachside down. After the week I’ve been having, I’m fucking beat. The only bright light has been earning back my calculus midterm, which I had extremely low hopes about.
“One of those days?” He snorts, munching on something.
My groan is muffled through the couch cushions. Three more semesters of this and I’ll be done with undergrad. That gap year is out of my reach but I can feel it inching closer.
And closer.
And closer.
I flip myself over onto my back, looking up at the light gray ceiling, and breathe in. “Thank fucking God it’s Friday.”
He rounds the kitchen counter and looks down at me. “Truer words have never been said.” Enzo continues munching on something. I sit up on the couch and observe the bag of mini M&Ms on his left hand.
“Bro, are those my M&Ms?” I ask.
Enzo shrugs. “So?”
My jaw drops, slightly befuddled. “How did you find them?”
“Ryder, you suck at hiding your shit. I didn’t do a hint of searching to find them.”
I narrow my eyes on my best friend. If I suck at hiding my stuff, then Enzo Rivera sucks at lying about stuff. Sensing bullshit has always been a talent of mine, but with Enzo, I don’t need to try.
“Okay,” he relents. “I was looking for my projector in your room and just found them. I didn’t search for them, specifically.”
“Why didn’t you ask the others?” I’m talking about our other three roommates. The loudest people I know—at least, in comparison to me and Enzo.
He gestures to the living room. “Do you see or hear them right now? Mason’s working, Adrian’s on set, and I think Jake is with his girlfriend or with his ex-frat brothers—that I’m not sure about.”
“How are they still together, again?” I wonder aloud.
“Beats me, dude. Bailey must give some good head if Parker can deal with her nasal voice yapping in his ear twenty-four seven.”
I fake-gag. “Dude, I did not need to hear that about my cousin, of all people.” I hold my hand out for the M&Ms and Enzo pours a few into my hand. Holding back an eye roll, I take the bag with my free hand. “Next time, ask before you steal.”
“Like you know how to share,” he scoffs.
“You’ve met my sister, Enzo. I have no choice but to share.” I pop the other chocolates in my mouth and munch while listening to the silence. My sister always says that for someone to be considered good company, you need to feel comfortable in their silence. Enzo is one of the few people I’ve found that with, along with the rest of my roommates.
“Did you find it?” I twist the bag of chocolate to seal it shut. “The projector?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll ask Ronnie about it.”
Now that has piqued my curiosity. Ronnie is one of our neighbors, in the house in front of us. Yeah, it’s a weird arrangement because we get the backyard (or front yard, in our case) while they have the driveway.
