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When we’re together, it’s like an eye-rolling competition that has no victor.
Dash Amado is not only amazingly hot. He’s amazing.
Jesus Christ, estoy perdiendo la cabeza. I’m losing my damn mind.
“Hey Lucy?” “Hmm?” “Know what I’m going to do?” “What?” “I’m going to date the shit out of you.”
Holy. Shit. There are two of her—two of them. Twins. I fucking knew it. I knew something was off with her.
“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.”
“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.”
“I’m serious!” Her excitement is palpable. “You might be her unicorn.”
“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?”
“I didn’t want you kissing me because I liked you.” His head gives a perplexed shake. “That makes no sense.” “I didn’t want you kissing me as Lucy. I wanted you kissing me as me.”
“Lucy said I’m your unicorn.” He laughs, tossing his jacket on a chair. This gives me pause. “She did?” “Yup. I’m a motherfucking unicorn.”
Just the tip, just the motherfucking tip—not even an inch—is ecstasy.
