No Two Are Alike

04 | kissing the wrong twin

Chloe was never letting Rowan choose a dress for her again.

Ever.

She pulled at the slinky gold fabric uncomfortably. The top of the dress was fine — a modest cowl-neck — but it was the bottom that concerned her. Or rather, the lack of bottom; the sequins stopped at about mid-thigh.

She seized a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. Thank god there weren't any children here; she didn't want to corrupt the youth.

Chloe hovered by the Christmas tree, searching desperately for a flash of blond hair. Ah; there Jack was. He was trapped in conversation with his Great Aunt Belinda next to a decorative swan ice sculpture that Chloe suspected cost more than a month's rent.

She made a beeline for him.

Belinda was in the middle of a rant, waving her hands wildly. Then again, everything about Belinda was wild: her cat-eye glasses, her purple lipstick, her patterned trainers. If Chloe didn't know that Belinda worked in finance, she would have thought she was a sixth-form drama teacher. Easily.

"I just want you to meet her, Jacky," Belinda was saying. "I think you'd really like her. She really is quite clever, and she does wonderful manicures."

Jack took a swig of port. "I'm sure she does."

"She's very pretty, too. Way out of your league."

"I'm sure she is."

"And she's single," Belinda added, looking at him expectantly.

"I'm sure there's a reason," Jack muttered, and Belinda cupped an ear.

"What was that, darling?"

"Nothing."

"Why don't you take her out for a drink?" Belinda prodded, fishing in her purse. "I'm sure I have her number here somewhere. I worry about you, Jacky." She wrinkled her nose. "There's only so many women that want to date a biologist."

She said "biologist" the way some people said "escaped convict" or "alcoholic clown." Jack's face was white.

"That's lovely, Aunt Belinda," he began, "but I really—"

"Jack didn't tell you?" Chloe cut in. "Darling, you should have said." She bopped Jack playfully on the shoulder. "We're dating now."

Belinda sputtered. "You're what?"

"Dating." Chloe interlaced their fingers. "He's an excellent listener."

"Well, I—"

"And excellent in bed, too," Chloe added, smirking, and Belinda turned green.

"Well, I think I'd better..." The elderly woman trailed off, her eyes darting to the refreshment table. "Ah! Cocktail sausages. How divine."

And with that, Belinda was off.

Chloe dropped her hand immediately, flexing her fingers. "Your hand is so sweaty," she griped. "It's like holding a fish."

Jack was looking at her in surprise. "Why did you do that?"

"What?"

"Save me."

Chloe gave him an odd look. "I always save you, idiot." Honestly. Had Jack hit his head, or something? "You'd do the same for me."

"Of course," he said quickly. "I mean, I know."

She sized Jack up. There was something distinctly — well — different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Had he cut his hair? Tried out a new cologne?