Switch hitter

I knew something was wrong the second she walked in the door tonight; I just couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

Same hair color.
Same legs.
Same face.

Except… I look harder.
At the small dimple beneath her lip that wasn’t there the last time we went out. And her laugh — that laugh isn’t as loud.

This isn’t the girl I’ve gone out with the past few weeks.
It’s her twin sister, and they’ve ... >Voir plus