“What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture so we can always remember this moment.”

It’s official: Dante is crazy.

He plucks his dart from the board, setting it in the box on the table. Grabs my jacket off the nearby chair then clasps my hand, tugging me through the crowded bar, past the throng, until we’re shoving through the front door.

We stand under the fluorescent light on the side of the brick building. It cast an unflattering, eerie glow.

I glance around, creeped out by the stark surroundings, wanting to leave, to go anywhere but here.

“Where should we go?”

Dante stuffs his hands into his pockets, shoulders slouching. “I hate asking you this, but would you mind coming back to my place? There won’t be any distractions and we need to be alone.”

“You want me to come to your place…to talk.”

“Unless you’re more comfortable at your place? I just think wherever we go, it needs to be just us.” Dante shifts on his heels, shooting me a pointed look. “Don’t you have shit you want to confess?”

Confess? Why is he putting it like that?

He thinks I’m my twin, my goofy, carefree sister, who by all accounts doesn’t have a care in the world, who dates two, three guys at once, letting me do her dirty work for her.

Falling for her latest conquest is not my idea of a good time.

I’m a fool for standing here, a damn fool for coming.

“Let me get this straight: you want me to come back to your place even though I broke up with you? What are you, a glutton for punishment?” I let the sarcasm slip.

“I know I’m an idiot. I’ve done some really stupid shit in my life and chasing you just might top the list, but I like you, so yeah, I guess you could say I’m a glutton for punishment.”

My nostrils flare, jealously flaring up. “You don’t even know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” His head tilts to the side. “Whose fault is that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been lying to me—but guess what? I like you anyway.”

My mouth gapes open, and I struggle for words. “I…”

We’re under the glowing neon sign of Mad Dog Jacks, still standing under the bright, fluorescent light, arguing, it would seem.

“What would m-make you think I’ve been lying?”

“Let’s not do this here.” His shoulders rise and fall casually.

“Just say what you came here to say,” I press. Then add, “Please,” for good measure, practically begging.

His chin goes up. “What’s your name?”

“M-My what?”

“¿Cuál es tu nombre?” What’s your name?

My heart—oh my God, my heart is beating, thumping so wildly inside my chest I actually raise my arm, resting my hand upon it like I’m about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. I press down, breathing heavily in and out…in and out, grasping to get control of my voice before I speak.

“Wh-What do you mean?” Playing dumb: one more thing Lucy and I have in common, although she’s always been better at it than I am.

“You’re such a terrible actress.”

I say nothing; I couldn’t possibly.

Dante’s hands come out of his pockets so he can throw them in the air, frustration tangible, intense. “Would you just tell me! Tell me the truth. I’ve been really patient here, putting up with this twin bullshit.” He blows out a puff of air, trying to remain calm. “I know you’re pretending to be Lucy.”

I feel my eyes go as wide as saucers.

“Anyone with half a fucking brain can tell you’re not her, and I’ve been going out of my fucking mind.” His hands gesture around his head like his brain is exploding as he continues his rant. “Trying to figure out what to fucking do about this—pardon my French—because Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy that you won’t even say your name. Can’t you understand that?”

My head nods slowly.

“Can you please just be honest about who you are and put me out of my goddamn misery? I swear, I don’t even give a shit that you lied.” He pauses. “Well, I do, but I won’t be a dick about it. I’ll get over it. I’ve done nothing but dwell on this the past few days, so can you do me a favor and just be honest?”

My breath is coming as hard and fast as his stream of words, steam rising from my mouth against the freezing pre-winter air. The tip of my nose is cold too, and probably getting red as we stand out here, gawking at each other.

Those large hands of his get stuffed back into the pockets of his jeans, and he watches me expectantly. “Now it’s your turn to say something.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Let’s start with this: do you even give the slightest shit about me?”

I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

“Yes.” My shoulders sag. “Yes I care.”

He’s closer now, arms at his side. “¿Cuál es tu nombre?” What’s your name?

“Yo me llamo,” I begin, voice cracking. “Amelia.”

My name is Amelia.

“Amelia,” he repeats back, my name a revelation. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“How…” I swallow hard. “How long have you known?”

He falters briefly, choosing his words. “I knew something wasn’t right almost from the minute I saw you. There were a few things that stuck out that I couldn’t make sense of, then you smiled and I saw this.” He takes his finger and touches the spot below my lip, the one he wanted to touch while we danced at the concert, only this time when his finger presses into it, I’m able to enjoy it. “And your laugh is different.”

It’s true. My laugh is different, lower and less chipper, not as flamboyant or brash as Lucy’s tends to be, mostly because she likes drawing attention to herself.

“I have no idea what to say. We didn’t switch places to be malicious. I was trying to help my sister, and this is a first.”

“What’s a first?”

“We’ve never been busted.”

“I didn’t bring you here to bust you for lying. I brought you here because I like you. I told your sister on the phone that I—”

“Wait, you talked to my sister? She knows?”

“Of course she does. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to be all fucking pissed when I pursued you.”

“Pursue me?”

“I said I was going to date the shit out of you, remember?”

“Yes.” How could I forget? “What did Lucy say when you talked to her?”

“She’s the one who helped me get you here.” He rakes a mammoth paw through his dark, silky hair. “After you broke up with me, I stood in that goddamn parking lot staring after you, wondering what the fuck had gone wrong, adding everything up in my head. A few things you’d said didn’t make sense, so I went to Lucy’s Instagram feed.”

My nod of understanding is slow. “And found our pictures.”

He nods as well. “Yeah. That’s when I called her—from the parking lot, I might add—to see if she’d care if I wanted to date you, not her. She basically tripped over herself trying to unload me.” He laughs. “She really does not like me.”

“But you don’t like her.”

“Not at all—I like you.”

Swoon!

Nothing this romantic has ever happened to me before, ever, never in my life, and I doubt it will again.

“I’m thinking we should get out of here. I’m freezing my ass off.”

“I’d like that.” I close the space between us, letting my hands brush up his chest. “You know what else I’d like? Kissing you.”

He dips his head a few inches so our mouths are a breath apart. “Is that so?”

“I feel like we’ve waited forever, don’t you?”

“It’s really only been a week, Amelia.”

God it sounds so good hearing him say my name.