When he first meets the Mitchell twins, Ron thinks they're a nightmare. He is horrified by the idea of sharing a tent with them for the entirety of his camping trip. But first impressions can be deceiving, and as he gets to know them better, Ron realizes that spending time with the twins might not be such a bad thing after all...
A new group had made it up the mountain while I’d been busy. Kale was talking to three of them, his assistant Tom to another two. It was Tom who waved me close. With decidedly mixed feelings, I stared at the broad backs of two muscular and tan guys that were both wearing shirts with the sleeves cut off. They were probably athletes of some sort. Crap. Jocks. I’d be sharing a tent with jocks.
I had a very unfortunate weakness for jocks.
“That’s your tent mate Ron Sorensen,” Tom said just then, and they both turned. I found myself staring at two handsome and completely identical faces.
“These are Summer and Winter Mitchell,” Tom introduced rather unnecessarily.
“Yeah, I figured,” I said, trying to keep control of my facial expression. “Hi.”
“Hi,” the twins chorused. Two pairs of deep green eyes scrutinized me. I felt supremely uncomfortable. As I stared back, I also felt my cock stirring in my shorts, which meant it was time for drastic measures.
“I set up the tent, it’s number five, you’re welcome, I’ll be over there,” I rattled off, turned, and fled.
I spent most of the next several hours avoiding them by helping everyone else get set up. I usually wasn’t all that nice to people, but it was the best way to keep busy. That worked until they eventually sought me out, just as I was untangling some nylon tent ropes next to Kale.
“Hey, Ron!” I heard someone call.
“Ronnie!” A second, near identical voice joined in.
“Ronald!” yowled the first voice.
I looked up at Kale with a scowl on my face.
“I am sharing a tent with the freaking Weasley twins.” When Kale did nothing but laugh silently, I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Please shoot me.”
“Ro-hooon!” one of the twins chirped exaggeratedly.
I spun around to face them.
“Which side do you want to sleep on?” one twin demanded to know. “Left or right?”
“Or do you want the middle?”
Hell no I didn’t want the middle. I was not nearly insane enough to subject myself to that kind of torture.
“I don’t care,” I snapped. “Left, I guess.”
Two pairs of green eyes stared at me accusingly.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” one of them said. “We’re just asking.”
“Fine,” I said. “But my name isn’t Ronald. Just Ron.”
“Duly noted,” the same twin assured me. “We won’t call you that again.”
“Thanks,” I said and turned back to Kale.
“How about Ronaldo?” I heard a hopeful voice behind me.
I flipped them off without even looking.