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Sam crumpled the empty Doritos bag. “Hey, I’m planning to. It’s just—you know how harsh Mom is about my girlfriends.”

Phoebe snorted. “Girlfriends. As if.”

Sam looked wounded. “Pheebs. You know how I get.”

Due to their lifelong sibling connection, Phoebe knew exactly what he meant without further elaboration.

“Kind of like…” Phoebe pulled an awkward grimace.

“Exactly.”

“You just get nervous,” Phoebe said. “You have such a good heart. It’s just that when you get in front of a pretty woman who’s not related to you, you either word-vomit or can’t think of two words to put together. You need to find a happy medium. Be confident. Think chivalry.”

Sam sighed. They had rehashed this topic many times. The first time had been when Sam was thirteen and Phoebe was fourteen and Sam had bawled his eyes out after a classmate’s bar mitzvah, where he had tried to ask Jen Barker to dance and somehow accidentally ended up explaining the plot of Star Trek: Voyager, then begging her to wait when she started to walk away and, instead of seizing his final chance to ask her to dance, telling her his stomach hurt and asking if she knew where the bathroom was.

“Anyway,” Sam said, “this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Flamingo Girl.”

“You’re right. It’s about the two of us. Swapping homes. Getting away from our problems. And that includes men.”

He shook his head, retreating to the kitchen to prowl through the fridge. “All right. Don’t let me get in the way of your man bashing.”

“We’re not bashing men.” Phoebe tapped her chin, considering. “Well, you know what, maybe we are. It’s just that you all kind of suck.”

“Phoebe.” Sam made an exasperated sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “You know I love it when you say things like that.”

“Okay, okay, you don’t personally suck. But many men do. You know this.”

“Yes, I do know this.”

Phoebe typed, Not sure if this is helpful, but whenever I am going through a hard time, I make a list. For me, a to-do list always helps. For you, it could be a list of, I don’t know, things that will distract you. Or things that make you feel more confident.

Arden: I actually love that idea. I might try that.

Phoebe: Okay, I feel like this is meant to be. We have to do the swap!

Typing bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared, as though Arden were second-guessing what she wanted to say.

Arden: No offense at all, but before we do this, how do I know you’re normal?

“‘Normal,’” Phoebe muttered. “Of course I’m normal.”

From the kitchen, Sam laughed loudly.

Phoebe: I have references! My siblings could tell you. And I hope my apartment speaks for itself.

Arden: Tell me about your apartment.

Phoebe: It’s in a midsize building in a gorgeous neighborhood. Open concept, new appliances. It has a fireplace, so it gets really cozy. Great view, too. You can walk to shops, restaurants, everything.

Arden: Sounds amazing. You can’t walk to anything from my house. But you’ll be able to use my car.

Yes! Phoebe grinned as she typed a fast reply.

Phoebe: I can’t wait to get away from it all. When can we swap?

Arden: Tomorrow too soon?

They had settled on a full eight days. Arden was a teacher, so she was off work until after New Year’s. And Phoebe… well, she had no work to get back to.