There’s a long, pregnant pause on the other end. “My what? What are you talking about?”

She sounds so bewildered and confused.

“Cut the bullshit, would you? I saw a picture of you two on Instagram.”

Nervous laugh. “Oh, that sister! I was confused for a second.”

“How are you confused—just how many sisters do you have?”

“Um, just the one?”

“The one you had pretend to be you,” I deadpan.

Lucy sighs like she’s had this same conversation before, like the speech is rehearsed. “I’m sorry Dash, it just isn’t working out between us. I’m already dating someone else new, so…” The sentence trails off, unfinished. I swear to God she’s filing her nails and not even paying attention.

“Too chicken shit to break it off yourself?”

“Oh my God, admit it, you didn’t like me that much either. Ugh, get over it.”

“You’re right—I didn’t like you that much.” But I like your sister.

She gasps, shocked by my bluntness. “Hey!”

“Don’t act surprised—you’re not my type either.” I’m walking to my car now and climbing in, staring out the driver’s side window while we talk. “That’s not why I called, so relax.”

“I’m not trying to be rude, but why are you calling? I did just break up with you and don’t want you calling to harass me.”

“Technically, you didn’t break up with me.”

“By proxy I did.”

Is she always this fucking exhausting? Jesus. “Look, just tell me one thing: has your sister said anything about me?”

She’s quiet a few seconds. “Like what?”

“Like…” I stare around the empty parking lot. “I don’t know. After we went out, did she say anything about it?”

“Can you be more specific?” Lucy laughs, and I want to reach through the phone and strangle her. “I’m kidding, but also, no. She hasn’t said anything specific—why would she? It would be breaking girl code for her to admit she had feelings for you.”

The line goes quiet a second time, and then she sighs. “But if you’re asking me if I got any twin vibes that she likes you, then yes. Between you and me, I think she does.”

Hell yeah! I fist-pump the night air. “How do you know?”

“I know my sister, and she’s been weird the past week—really defensive, short with me, and, well, I sense these things.”

“Is that a genetic twin thing?”

“Yeah, except she doesn’t have the gift. She doesn’t feel things like I do.”

Impatient, I keep this conversation moving along. “I’m going to assume you don’t give a shit if I date her.”

“If you can convince her to date you after I just did, you have my blessing.” She laughs good-naturedly, and I remember the reason I agreed to go out with her in the first place. “I honestly do not give a shit.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“All I’m saying is, my sister has a way stronger moral compass than I do. She’s going to feel guilty—really guilty admitting she has feelings for you. She won’t want to, you know, make me mad or whatever.”

Oddly, that news makes me feel better; I don’t want to date anyone who would backstab her own sister.

Lucy interrupts my musing. “Can I ask you something though?”

“Shoot.”

“How did you know it wasn’t me?”

“¿Estás hablando en serio?” Are you being serious?

“Can you not do that? I have no idea what you just said.”

“Which would have eventually given you away.” I smirk. “The first thing I noticed, though? You don’t have a dimple near your lip like she does.”

“That’s true. I don’t.” She’s smiling now; I can hear it. “No one can tell us apart, you know.”

“Seriously?” I can’t keep the scoffing inflection out of my voice. “I find that hard to believe. I can list at least five things she does that you don’t.”

There’s another long pause before she takes in a breath. “Wow. I can’t believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“Well…” She pauses for dramatic affect. “There’s an urban legend among twins that if you find the person who can tell you apart, that’s like meeting your soul mate.”

“Uhhh, let’s not go that far.”

“I’m serious!” Her excitement is palpable. “You might be her unicorn.”

Getting called a unicorn is where I draw the line. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait!” Now she sounds positively giddy. “Wait, don’t hang up yet! I just want you to know that I won’t make this awkward. You and I barely fooled around, and truly, it was like kissing my brother.”

Awesome. Just what I wanted to hear. “Gee, thanks.”

“For real. We had zero chemistry,” she rambles on. “Like, none.”

“The chemistry between you and me is nothing compared to what I have with your sister.”

“Ahhh.”

“One more thing before I let you off the hook for pulling a twin switch on me—I’m going to need you to do me a solid.”

“A solid? What’s that?”

“You know, a favor?”

Pause. “Yeah, okay. Let’s hear it.”

Chapter Eight

Amelia

Lucy: So how did it go tonight? Did you finish the job?

Me: Do you have to make it sound like I’m a mob hitman with a contract out on someone?

Lucy: Yes, because it sounds more exciting that way, don’t you think? You know how I fancy the idea of being a mob princess.

Me: Tonight went well.

Lucy: WRONG ANSWER! That was a test, and you failed it. Do you know why?

Me: Um, no?

Lucy: Because Dash Amado just texted to see if I still want to play darts this weekend. DARTS, Amelia.

Lucy: Amelia, WHY WHY WHY is Dash texting me about another date? Let alone playing DARTS. You were supposed to DUMP HIM for me.

Me: I DID!!!! I did break up with him. I have no idea why he texted you, I swear.

Lucy: You must not have done that good of a job.

Me: Trust me, I did. When I drove off last night, the two of you were 100% broken up.

Me: I think?

Lucy: Don’t do that.

Me: Do what?

Lucy: Don’t punctuate it like it’s a question. You were there—this shouldn’t be a question.

Me: Yes, I’m sure I did. I broke up with him.

Lucy: Then why do I feel you hesitating?

Me: You really need to stop doing that. You are not telepathic.

Lucy: How do you know I haven’t been blessed with the gift? Maybe I’m the twin gifted with that superpower, and it’s finally getting powerful now that I’ve come of age.

Me: That is one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard you say.

Lucy: But it’s true.

Me: Fine. What’s MY twin superpower?

Lucy: I don’t know. You’re good with small animals, being fake Lucy, and fake breaking up with boys?

Me: Haha, very funny.

Lucy: So just tell me this: if you for sure dumped his ass, why is he messaging me??

Me: Can you not say “dumped his ass”?

Lucy: Does it bother you when I say dump?

Me: Kind of.

Lucy: Why? Don’t tell me you feel bad.

Lucy: How did the dumping go down?

Me: We were in the parking lot, talking, and I said dating him wasn’t working out, and then I got in my car and he got in his car.

Lucy: Did you actually see him get in his car?

Me: No? Wait, why does that matter? The job was over so I drove away.

Lucy: You had ONE job Amelia, one. He wants to go out again, so…you tell me what we should do. I don’t like him.

Me: STOP YELLING AT ME, and stop saying WE. He isn’t my boyfriend.

Lucy: He wasn’t mine either! And why are you freaking out?

Lucy: Amelia, tell me the truth—do you like him?