Chapter 2: Twin Trouble

Here’s the thing: my girlfriend, Nicole, has a twin. The kind of twins who make you do a double take in the grocery store—same build, same honey-brown hair, same laugh that bubbles up when they’re together. They’re the kind of twins you see in TikToks pranking their friends.

Even their voices could fool Siri. Nicole once told me they were born exactly one minute apart—her sister Natalie got to be the big sister by sixty seconds.

But the difference is all in the attitude. Nicole’s the quiet, introspective one who loves cozying up with books and fuzzy socks. Natalie, on the other hand, could charm a bouncer or start a conga line at a funeral. If Nicole’s a candlelit dinner, Natalie’s a shot of tequila.

Today, Nicole forgot to mention her sister was stopping by. I came home, got blindsided, and wound up doing something equal parts passionate and mortifying. I raked my fingers through my hair so hard, I nearly gave myself a bald spot.

Ten minutes later, Nicole breezed back in, arms loaded with a crinkly Walmart bag full of groceries, the kind that leaves red lines on your hands. The bag smelled faintly of freezer burn and cheap detergent.

"Hey, where’s my sister?"

"Uh, she left."

"Left? Why’d she leave already?" She eyed the door, then eyed me, and that’s when my panic set in.

I couldn’t come up with a lie fast enough. "She… suddenly remembered something urgent. Had to go."

"How’s that possible?" Nicole’s eyes narrowed, suspicious as a mom who just found cookies missing. "I’m calling her."

My heart felt like it was trying to climb out of my chest and run for cover. If Natalie spilled the truth—or even hinted at what happened—this could go from awkward to catastrophic in seconds.

Nicole fished out her phone, thumbed to her sister’s name, and pressed call. I watched every move like it was the final seconds of March Madness.

"Her phone’s off?"

She dialed again. Still nothing.

I let out a long, shaky breath. Relief washed over me like cool water after a scalding day. I swore to myself, next time I so much as think about kissing, I’ll double-check, triple-check, hell, ask for a driver’s license first.

"Maybe… maybe she just had something urgent…" I said, trying to sound casual.

Nicole fixed me with a look sharp enough to slice bread. "You’re acting weird."

"What’s weird about me?"

"You always stutter when you’re lying. You realize that, right?"

"I… I didn’t stutter."

"Then why are you blushing?"

I wiped at my forehead, feeling sweat bead up. "Isn’t it just too hot in here?"

"Hot? Hot enough to make you sweat through your shirt?"

I grabbed the bag of groceries, desperate to pivot. "Let me get these in the fridge. Since your sister left, there’s no way the two of us can eat all this."

Nicole’s voice followed me, persistent. "Did you two do something behind my back?"

Fumbling with a carton of eggs, I shot back—my eyes on the fridge, not her—"How could we? What would we even do? You’re overthinking."

"Next time I see her, I’m going to ask her directly."

"Go for it, seriously," I muttered, guilt gnawing at me.