Switch Hitter (Jock Hard, #0.5)

by Sara Ney

“He doesn’t know I’m a twin. Trust me, he won’t notice.” This gives me pause. “How does he not know you’re a twin?” “I mean, it’s not like we sit and talk about you,” she quips. “Right, but don’t you tell him about yourself? Normally you love to talk, and the twin thing is kind of a fun fact.” And a huge part of who you are as a human being, I want to add, but instead, I clamp my lips shut.

“We are twenty-one years old—don’t you think we’re a little old to be pulling tricks on people?” “Um, no? There’s a reason God gave us the same face.” That makes me laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What do the two of you do when you hang out?” “Um…” We do her homework, talk.

“Are you sure?” She had white wine the last time we went out—four glasses of it, to be exact—and got shit-faced drunk. “I’m sure they have wine if you want it.” Her mouth moves, forming the words, “Shit, that’s right. I drink wine, don’t I?” The venue is loud and echoes, but her words are clear, perfectly formed on her lips. Lucy pauses indecisively. “I guess I’ll have wine if they have it.” She looks less than thrilled, pouty even.

It only rings twice. “Uh…hello?” The reluctance in her voice makes me want to laugh. “Lucy?” “Hey Dash. What’s up?” I waste no time throwing down. “Why did you send your twin sister to break up with me?” 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.

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.