Page 81 of How to Win the Girl

Do his lies make me gullible?

Do his lies makemethe idiot?

Did his handsome face make me as pathetic as every girl before me begging for his attention?

No wonder that girl came up to the table while we were on our date; she recognized him because of that damn scar in his eyebrow—the scar his brother doesn’t have.

I can’t imagine what was going through her head.

Who was she to him, really?

A girlfriend? A side-piece? Just someone he fucked when he had an itch?

Jocks did that, didn’t they? Fucked a bunch of people?

Don’t stereotype, Daisy.

I wasn’t stereotyping, my insecurities were.

How’s that for honesty?

The whole situation is messed up; the look on poor Drew’s face when I accosted him at the drinking fountain—utter confusion. Him trying to explain that he had no idea who I was, but still trying to be polite.

“I meet a lot of people…”

No shit, he meets a lot of people—the boys are legends, his whole family is. Toss in the fact that Drake and Drew are twins? And identical? And good looking?

Trifecta.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought one twin would pretend to be his brother. We are not ten years old. We are adults.

The audacity!

Frowning, I swipe through my phone until I find Drew’s name. Delete E – W and addA – K – E

Drew.

Drake.

Stare at the new data.

Close out my contacts and swipe through to an internet search: Drake Colter.

An entirely new photo gallery of pictures pops up. Whereas Drew’s photos were primary football media coverage, Drake’s are a visual buffet that have my mouth watering, complete with more than a handful of bare midriff ab shots.

He doesn’t have a six-pack stomach. He has an eight-pack.

Tan.

Smooth.

Glistening.

“What do they do to make his skin sparkle, rub him down with oil?” I mutter.

That’s not oil, idiot—that’s sweat.

Moving along, I read his bio. Not that far from his twin’s, it seems they have equally illustrious careers. Same scholarships, same parents, same siblings, same city, state, schools.

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