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Lizzie
Are nap dates a thing? Because that’s something I can work with! – Liz
“This is the last time I’m letting you set me up on a blind date.”
My twin sister, Emily, rolls her eyes as she reaches across my lap and pushes the passenger door open. “You said that the last two times. And quit fussing with your dress,” she says, slapping my hand away from the belt she insisted I wear.
“It’ll make you look more sophisticated,” she said. When all I really wanted to do was throw on a pair of skinny jeans, an oversized off-the-shoulder sweater, and call it good.
Maybe that’s why I’m still single.
“This time, I mean it. No more blind dates, and you’re never dressing me again.”
“What’s wrong with the outfit I picked out?”
“Nothing, except that it makes me look just like you.”
“Newsflash: we’re identical twins. It doesn’t matter what you wear, you’ll always look like me. Now, get in there and have fun.”
I frown and look toward the front of the restaurant.
Somewhere behind that fancy glass door is a man of my sister’s choosing. He could be a complete douchebag, but maybe, just maybe, he’s Mr. Right. The chances are slim, considering Emily’s track record with blind date setups. However, she managed to snag herself a good man, so I’m still hopeful she can snag me one, as well.
“Come on, Lizzie.” Emily nudges my leg. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“Everything,” Sarah mumbles. I peer into the back seat at our friend as she picks at her chipped red nail polish. It takes a second, but she eventually realizes her mistake, glances up, and grimaces. “What I mean is—”
“I know what you meant.” I share a knowing look with my sister. “Even Sarah knows this is going to be a disaster. Do you remember the last time you set me up on a blind date?”
“I do. It was Gerald, and he was a very nice man.”
“Actually, the last blind date was Jacob,” Sarah corrects. “And if I remember correctly, the first thing he did when he sat down at the dinner table was ask Liz to make a fist.”
I cringe at the memory of holding my fist in the air and watching in horror as he tried to wrap his insanely large lips around it to see if it would fit into his mouth. Try being the operative word because I was having none of that.
“Oh, that’s right.” At least Emily has the decency to look apologetic. “I forgot about that. Well, I’m almost one hundred percent positive that Timothy won’t try to stick your fist into his mouth.”
“But if he’s hunky, and you’re lucky, maybe he’ll go for a different body part.” Sarah waggles her eyebrows and then laughs. “What can I say? I’m sex-deprived. My love life these days is as pathetic as yours.”
“My love life isn’t pathetic, it’s disastrous. Big difference.”
“It doesn’t have to be pathetic or disastrous,” Emily says. “You just haven’t found the right man.”
“I don’t need a man.”
Emily lifts an eyebrow.
“I’m happy,” I say, unsure if I’m trying to convince her or myself.
Sarah’s eyes soften, but Emily doesn’t look as convinced. “I know you are.”
Why wouldn’t I be? I have a great job, a wonderful family, two of the best neighbors a girl could ask for—one of whom is my very best friend—and a loving, albeit overbearing sister.
Life is great. Life is greater than great. And when I do find a good man, he’ll be creamy icing on the already delectable cake that is my life.
“You know,” Emily starts, suddenly interested in the hem of her shirt. “It would be easier for you to find love if you didn’t spend all of your time with Aiden.”
“Here we go.” Sarah sits back in the seat and crosses her arms over her chest. “I knew this was coming.”
“I don’t spend all my time with Aiden.”
“Right,” Emily scoffs. “And I’m the next presidential candidate.”
“You’d actually make a great president,” Sarah suggests.
Emily smiles. “I know I would, but we aren’t talking about me.”
