I bet he’s the captain or something cliché. Lucy only dates the most handsome, popular guys she can sink her long, manicured claws into. These days, those claws are painted hot pink, and when she’s impatient, she taps them on the laminate tabletop to irritate me—like she’s doing now.

“Let me guess”—I smirk—“they call him Dash because he’s soooo so super fast.”

Her smile fades. “You’re a smartass, do you know that? But also, you’re correct.”

“What else does he do quickly?” I joke.

“I don’t know.” She chomps down on her vegetables. “We’ve only made out once, but I’m hoping to find out soon. He’s giving me blue balls.”

“What do you mean you’ve only made out once? He’s a flipping baseball player. Forgive me for sounding confused or for buying into stereotypes, but aren’t most athletes major horn dogs?”

“Dash isn’t like all those guys, Amelia. He’s a gentleman, and honestly, it’s kind of getting annoying.”

I thought the point of her dating these guys was to be seen with them, not to form emotional attachments and actually spend quality time with them.

“It’s just frustrating. I’m trying to change his mind about the whole not sleeping with me yet bullshit. He’s all weird because we’re not committed, doesn’t want to get any girls pregnant or whatever.”

My brows shoot up, straight into my hairline. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means he doesn’t want to risk sleeping with any gold diggers who might trap him. You’d be surprised by all the baby mama drama surrounding athletes.”

I stare, shocked. No, I did not know that happened. “He told you that?”

“Yeah, when he was drunk once at a party.” She stops chewing, shaking a limp carrot stick in my direction. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Have you ever dated a guy because you genuinely liked him, or do you just date them for their status?”

Her hesitation is a brief flicker. “Both?”

At least she’s being honest.

I roll my eyes. They’re a touch darker than hers, the left one with a fleck of amber in the corner. Our eyes are one of the few things that set us apart—a fact that she hates—and I also have a dimple in the corner of my lip.

“Name one guy you really liked.”

She bites down on her bottom lip. It’s pouty and pink. “This isn’t a fair question, and why is it your business if I’ve never really liked anyone I’ve dated?”

“You’re making it my business—hello, you want me to switch places with you and go on a date with some stranger.” Who, quite frankly, I’m beginning to feel bad for. “If you liked him so much, you wouldn’t be—”

“Dating someone else at the same time,” we both say at the same time.

There is a hamburger on a plate in front of me getting cold, so I take a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I didn’t even know you were dating anyone, let alone two someones. In fact, I’ve never been introduced to any of your boyfriends since we’ve been in Iowa.”

“It never gets to the point where we’re serious,” she counters. “And before you say anything, it’s not my fault I get bored easily.”

“Um, yeah, it kind of is.” I’m talking with my mouth full. “Stop using guys and find one you like. Get to know one of them and maybe you won’t get bored. Stop going out with athletes. Try dating someone with substance.”

“Ew. That sounds like such a mind-numbing idea.”

“Try it once, for me.” I bat my lashes. “Pretty please.”

“No. It’s easy to sit here and judge me, isn’t it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve never dated a jock so you have no idea what you’re missing. Oh my gawd, the orgasms—they are so worth the headache.”

True, I have never dated a jock, but the orgasms I’ve had with other guys have been just fine, thank you very much, even if a bit ordinary.

“So will you do it?”

“What? No!” Maybe.

“Ugh, why are you like this?” my twin sister huffs, throwing her napkin on the table in a mini tantrum. “Help me! Please. You’re the sweet one—maybe if you go out with him, he’ll change his mind about me.”

“Is that what this is about? Do you even have two dates on the same night?”

“Yes! I swear I have two dates next Friday night.”

“Then how about you do the right thing and cancel one of them?”

Lucy glares across the table. “You’re the worst freaking twin.”

I laugh into my burger, taking a huge chunk off.

“We used to have so much fun, didn’t we?” she tries again while my mouth is too occupied to argue.

I quickly chew and swallow. “Yes, it was fun—when we were twelve.”

“Whatever, spoilsport.”

I laugh. “Eat your lunch, I have class in ten minutes.”

“For old time’s sake? Please? Dash is harmless—really smart and levelheaded. You’ll love him.” Her smile curves innocently.

For the first time tonight, I pause, considering it. Set down my food, fiddle with a napkin, not meeting her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“He’s taking me to a battle of the bands, which you know is something I hate, but you love that kind of thing. My other date, Hudson, is taking me clubbing, which you know I love. I’m wearing that new silver dress I bought for New Year’s Eve.”

Hudson—what a dumb name.

“What if you end up having a date with Hudson for New Year’s and he’s already seen you in the silver dress?”

I smirk at the sight of her crestfallen expression.

“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yeah, well…” I shrug through her scowl. “That’s what you have me for.”

“Look, I’ll make it easy: I’ll drop off the outfit I’d planned to wear, and you won’t have to worry about any details. Just get dressed and he’ll show up.”

“Where?” I’ll admit to being a teensy weensy bit curious about where this date she doesn’t want to go on is happening.

“The bar district, to listen to some local band.”

“What kind of band?”

“I don’t know Amelia! Some garage band or whatever. I was only half listening.”

“Hmm.” That sounds kind of fun. “What time?”

“Eight on Friday.”

“And you don’t think he’d notice that I’m not you?”

“No way, not a chance. He’s a guy.” Lucy leans in again. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

“I don’t want to, but…”

She gets up from the table, comes around to my side, and puts me in a struggle cuddle from behind. “Yes! You are the best! I owe you big time.”“I know you do.”

She pokes a finger in my direction. “You can’t tell Mom or Dad.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pause. “I guess…have Dash pick me up on campus?”

“Can’t you come to my house and have him pick you up there?”

“You’re seriously going to push your luck? Have him pick me up on campus. I’ll be in front of the field house.”

“Amelia, he’s going to think that’s so weird.”

“Ugh! Fine, fine. I’ll be at your house at quarter to eight.” I poke a finger back at her. “You better hope he’s not early.”

Chapter Two

Amelia

He’s early.

Fifteen minutes early, to be exact, strolling up the sidewalk to my sister’s house at the same exact time I am. My house is only a few short blocks away, so I hoofed it over, heels clicking on the cement below my feet.

As if this evening wasn’t already extremely awkward for me, I’m approaching Lucy’s at a snail’s pace when I see a guy I assume is Dash already on her doorstep, poised to knock.