Page 115 of How to Win the Girl

“Yeah.” He nods. “Point bein’ I thought I’d keep carryin’ on the way I’ve been carryin’ on—and wasn’t lookin’ for a girlfriend, so I thought there was no harm in doing the old twin switch again. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

I wonder if he can see my eyebrows shooting up into my hairline. “What’s the worst thing that could happen? Ummm…” I laugh, pointing a finger at myself. “You’re looking at it.”

“That came out all wrong. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“What did you mean to say then?”

He hasn’t come out and admitted that he’s Drake and not Drew—I want him to say the words. Point blank—this is what I’ve done, I apologize, let’s move on.

“I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

I let the words linger before, “And?”

“And…I went on our date pretending to be my brother.”

I sit, waiting a few heartbeats. “I know.”

Now it’s his turn to look surprised. “You knew?”

“I did.”

thirty-two

drake

I kiss on the first date.

My mouth opens and closes. “How?”

“Well.” Daisy doesn’t even have the decency to act shocked at my announcement, instead tilting her chin up and smirking. “There are a million ways I knew he wasn’t you.”

“Explain.”

“For starters, he obviously had no idea who I was in class the other night. It didn’t take us long to figure out what the hell was going on.” She pauses. “You’re not that great at subterfuge; don’t quit your day job.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what subterfuge is, but I refrain.

“After he and I realized what you were up to, we decided to have a little fun with it. And after being in his company for a few minutes, the differences between the two of you couldn’t be more obvious.” She yawns as if she’s gotten bored, the little shit. “Anyone who can’t tell the two of you apart is an idiot.”

Most people can’t tell us apart. “Oh?”

“Are you being serious? You have a gap between your teeth, and he doesn’t.” Daisy holds up a finger to keep count. “You have a scar on your eyebrow.” Two. “Your haircuts are not the same—your hair is longer.” Three. “You’re not the same height.” Four. “When you laugh, it’s more reserved.”

Five.

I rest against the window. “Satisfied?”

She nods. “Quite.”

“So what’re we gonna do about it?”

“Do about what?”

I motion back and forth between our bodies with my hand. “This. Us.”

“What do you meanthis. Us?”

Is she trying to get me to admit I want to date her? Is she going to make me spell it out for her, goddammit?

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