Scoring with the Wrong Twin (WAGS)

by Naima Simone

  “On a Saturday?” Her sister frowned. “That’s unusual.”

  Sophia sighed, resting her head on the back of the chair. “Brian called a meeting to discuss an upcoming project.” All the details about the app proposal spilled from her, including the promise of project manager to the denial of the position, as well as her anger and hurt over the decision.

  When she finished, Giovanna set her tea on the coffee table in front of the couch and slowly unfolded her legs. Then, in a burst of furious motion, she shot to her feet and paced from the sofa to the window and back, her long legs chewing up the compact space. Her sundress tangled around her legs, but it didn’t impede her enraged stride.

  “Hijo de puta! Pendejo! Me cago en su madre,” Giovanna hissed, fists clenched at her sides.

  Sophia blinked. Wow. Son of a whore. Goat pube. I shit on his mother. Damn. Giovanna was mad.

  “Umm…you okay?” Sophia asked.

  “Why aren’t you upset?” Giovanna whirled on her, fists planted on her hips. “Why aren’t you down at that office ripping him a new one? I’ll hold him down while you kick that little shit in the balls to show him where they’re at.”

  “One, because vigilantism is a punishable offense. And ‘Your Honor, he’s a misogynistic, lying asshole’ isn’t a defense.”

  “You make jokes, and meanwhile, Brian is shafting you left and right. This isn’t the first time, and as long as you bend over and take it, it won’t be the last,” her twin raged.

  Suddenly tired, Sophia rubbed her forehead where a dull ache had started pulsing. “You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t sit there this morning feeling like a powerless, spineless doormat while I explained to Trevor how the app I created would work? Explained to the project manager—the job that had been promised to me—how to do his job while all along Brian sat there, a smug smile on his face? You don’t think I wanted to shout at the unfairness, at the utter helplessness I felt? But what can I do? Quit?”

  “Yes.”

  Sophia’s laughter scraped a throat sore from a morning of holding in curses and screams. Of course that would be her twin’s response. Giovanna had always been the bolder of the two. The little girl from South Park who’d dreamed of becoming one of the few supermodels of Puerto Rican descent hadn’t let anything stand in her way. If someone had built a wall, Giovanna wouldn’t bother going around it; she charged right through, smashing it down and daring anyone to say a word. Sophia had always admired that about her twin, but she herself lacked that vivaciousness, that spirit. That courage.

  “You make it sound so simple,” Sophia said, shaking her head.

  “It is.” Giovanna crossed the floor and knelt down in front of Sophia’s chair, clasping her hands in hers. “You’ve always underestimated yourself. Your brilliance, your worth. Yeah, you’ve come a long way since we were young, but you still don’t see. FamFit courted you while you were still in college. They came after you. As did other companies. Not because they were hard up for developers and computer analysts. But because you are scary smart, creative, and innovative. I’ve always been in awe of your brain, how you think. Stop limiting yourself. Stop allowing other people to put you inside this confined, suffocating box and tell you what you’re capable of. When you let people define your world, it will always be too small for you.”

  “I’m not you,” Sophia whispered, the ache in her voice a reflection of the hurt, frustration, and deferred hope that welled in her chest.

  “No, you’re not,” her sister agreed. “You’re you. You, who didn’t let ignorant bullies destroy you. You, who teachers asked to assist in teaching computer classes her junior year of high school. You, who created your first program in college. You, who has earned FamFit millions of dollars with the apps you’ve developed in the short time you’ve been there. You, who once imagined writing your own video game and interactive programs to entertain and teach children. You, who has the balls to do it if you would only take a risk.”

  Giovanna’s words pierced her heart and tunneled through bone and tissue to her soul. To the place where she’d locked away childhood dreams in the favor of a practical, real life with benefits, a regular salary, and 401k. Only one other time had the rusty lock on that sealed door cracked open. When she’d been sitting on a set of high school bleachers watching teen boys play football at a summer camp. When the idea for the interactive app for Zephirin’s foundation bloomed in her mind. When she’d shared her idea with him, and he hadn’t waved it aside but embraced it, loved it.

  If you would only take a risk.

  Her sister’s words reverberated in her head, playing on a relentless, never-ending loop. Giovanna was wrong; Sophia had taken a risk. Pretending to be her on the photo shoot. Going home with Zephirin that night. Agreeing to spend more time with him.

  Falling in love with him.

  Sophia briefly squeezed her eyes shut, the now familiar edges of panic and sadness lodging in her heart like a pebble in a shoe. That was her biggest gamble to date. Falling in love with a famous football player who believed she was a successful, gorgeous model who also happened to be her twin sister. Yeah, she’d been taking risks lately, and she didn’t know if she had it in her for one more.

  “Just think about it, okay?” Giving her hand one last squeeze, Giovanna rose and returned to the couch, reclaiming her perch on the cushions. “We’re going out to celebrate my glorious conquering of Milan and my triumphant return home. So go find your sexiest outfit…” She tapped her bottom lip with a fingertip. “Never mind. Scratch that. I’ll find something for you at my place. Raymond is giving us VIP treatment at his club tonight.”

  “I…can’t.” Her sister’s gaze narrowed, and Sophia wished she could slink away and avoid it. Shit’s about to hit the fan. “I kind of…have plans.”

  “You can’t break them?” Giovanna asked, a speculative gleam entering her eyes.

  She could, but she didn’t want to. Tonight was her last night with Zephirin. Tonight she would tell him the truth. Tonight she would find out if he hated her or not.

  “No, I can’t. Sorry.”

  “Wait a second. Is this a date? Who—” Giovanna sucked in a breath, her eyes widening. “Please,” she whispered. “Please tell me you aren’t still seeing Zephirin Black.”

  “Giovanna…” Sophia said.

  “Fi, what are you doing?” she whispered, shaking her head. “I thought you ended it. You said it was a one-night thing. Does he know that I’m you? Or you’re me? God, this is so confusing,” she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

  “I don’t know. And no, to both versions.” Propping her elbows on the chair arms, Sophia covered her face with her hands as if she could hide from her sister’s questions and censure. “I think I’m in love with him.” The confession came out muffled, but it was unmistakable. As was the crush of anxiety and fear.

  Silence met her outburst. And when she inched down her hands away from her face, the concern and sympathy on her sister’s face almost made her hide behind them again.

  “Please don’t look at me like that,” Sophia pleaded with a small huff of breath. “I already know how hopeless and pathetic I am.”

  “What are you going to do?” Giovanna asked softly. “And how can I help?”

  Love for her sister poured through Sophia and uncapped the well of tears she’d been holding back. “I have to tell him the truth. I know it might hurt your career, Vanna—”

  “Forget that,” she interrupted with a slice of her hand through the air. “I’ll handle it. I’m more worried about you. What if…” She paused. “What if he doesn’t forgive you?”

  Sophia swallowed past the lump blocking her windpipe. A lump comprised of guilt, apprehension, and dread. Zephirin rejecting her and walking away without a backward glance presented a very real possibility. But she couldn’t keep the truth from him any longer. Not after what he’d revealed to her two nights earlier about Shalene. Not if she wanted to find out if there was even the most remote
chance they could turn this temporary deal into more.

  Not if she loved him.

  “I have to take that chance,” she said to Giovanna’s question. “Continuing to lie to him isn’t an option any longer. I…” She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.

  Thursday night, she’d glimpsed something in his eagle eyes. Something that had given her hope that maybe, just maybe there could be a “them.” And now she placed everything on that sliver of hope.

  “Well.” Giovanna rose from the couch, clapping her hands together once. “What time are you supposed to see him?”

  “I’m meeting him at his place at six.”

  “It’s one o’clock now. My offer for a sexy outfit still stands. If you’re determined to spill the beans tonight, then we need to squeeze you into the skimpiest, tightest dress possible. T&A does wonders for forgiveness.” Giovanna studied her. “Makeup will help, too.”

  In spite of the nerves playing kick ball with her organs, Sophia laughed. “Do I have a choice?”

  “Nope. Let’s go. My closet awaits.”

  “Fine,” Sophia grumbled, standing and heading for her bedroom to grab her shoes and bag. “But I’m not wearing anything tight or skimpy.”

  Giovanna chuckled, following her. “Oh, it’s so cute that you really believe that.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Zephirin stared at Sophia’s door, a litany of curses streaming through his head.

  This was fucking stupid.

  He was acting like a jealous asshole.

  Shit.

  He and Sophia had agreed to meet for dinner at his place at six o’clock. This could’ve waited until then. Like Dom had mentioned, there was probably a reasonable explanation regarding the guy she’d been with when she’d told Zephirin she would be at work.

  She started going MIA for periods of time. Rumors would crop up about her being in one place when she’d told me she had plans to be in another.

  His words to Sophia about the end of his relationship with his ex-girlfriend haunted him. The similarities…

  This is bullshit, he argued with himself. The truth of the matter was, Sophia really didn’t owe him an explanation. The two of them weren’t in an exclusive relationship—hell, they weren’t even in a relationship. Sex with an end date. That’s what they had. All they’d agreed to.

  He’d repeated that logic to himself the entire drive to her Belltown building. Had again reminded himself of it as he climbed the steps to her apartment and stood in front of it a whole hour and a half before their date.

  And yet, here he remained, knocking on her door to do what, exactly? Demand to know who the hell the guy had been? Fuck it. Yeah, he wanted to know. Because just the mental image of another man skimming his hands over those dangerous curves and smooth skin had his own fingers itching to tear someone apart. Preferably the pretty boy he’d seen her with.

  As he lifted his arm to knock again, he caught voices behind the door. Seconds later, it opened, and he stared into her beautiful face. The face that only hours ago had been wrapped in a smile when it’d been upturned for another man, as if waiting for a kiss.

  “Sophia,” he said. But then stopped. Frowned. Something was…off. Different. Several more moments passed where she gaped at him, and it struck him. No piercings in her bottom lip and eyebrow. The bright blue tips had been dyed the same brown as the rest of her hair. In the body-hugging sundress, she appeared more like the model he’d met a year ago than the woman who had become his obsession in the last few days.

  “Zephirin,” she whispered. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

  Good question. “I needed to talk to you. Can I come in?”

  “Umm…” She tossed a nervous glance over her shoulder, and a vise grip clapped around his rib cage, tightening, constricting until he wouldn’t have been surprised to hear a bone snap. A week ago, she hadn’t hesitated to invite him into her home. Why now? Was someone there? The guy from the deli? With a sigh, she stepped aside, and he stepped into the apartment. “Listen,” she said, closing the door behind him, “this isn’t a—”

  “Giovanna, this is the only thing in your closet I’m compromising…on…” The voice reached him seconds before another woman strode into view from behind the partition separating the living area from the bedroom.

  A woman identical to the one standing in the doorway except for piercings, blue hair, and the blue, green, and yellow tail of a peacock tattoo peeking above the hem of her jeans.

  Even though his gaze registered what he saw, disbelief and shock robbed him of speech, thought, the ability to move.

  Twins.

  Identical twins.

  And the one he’d been spending time with, sharing his body and confidences with, had just called the other Giovanna.

  “Zephirin,” the pierced and inked twin rasped, stumbling forward, a hand outstretched toward him.

  Her hesitant movement snapped his paralysis. The numbness didn’t slowly melt or ebb away, it splintered, smashed like a shattered windshield on impact. Sprinkling him with shards of memories.

  Call me Sophia… Giovanna is the model. Sophia is the woman you described. The woman whose eyes are begging you to fuck her.

  I’ve only been here a short time. I guess ‘home’ still is my old apartment until I get used to living here.

  I’m so not who you think I am.

  The clues, the hints, the signs—they’d been there all along. And like with Shalene, he’d chosen to ignore them. Had willingly blinded himself to them. He’d ignored his instinct and had been played.

  Again.

  “Is your name really Sophia?” he asked, his voice serrated by disillusionment, smoldering anger, and fucking pain. He’d sworn never to be in this place again. Promised himself he would never be as vulnerable. Yet, she made a liar out of him. Two liars, standing face-to-face.

  Guilt tautened her expression as she lowered her arm and wrapped it around her waist. “Yes,” she said, her tone thick with, what? Tears? Pain? She could keep both. He wasn’t buying either. “Giovanna’s my twin sister.”

  “I guessed that,” he drawled, flicking a glance in the other woman’s direction before returning his attention to Sophia. God. Just saying her name made him cringe. Made him feel like even more of a fool. Had she laughed every time he’d spoken her name? Gotten a kick out of conning him into calling her by her actual name?

  “Look, Zephirin,” Giovanna said, glancing at her sister. “This is all my fault—”

  “Vanna, can you give us a minute?” Sophia directed the question to her twin—the twin he’d believed her to be all this time—but her gaze remained on him.

  “Are you sure?” the model murmured. When Sophia nodded, she pinned Zephirin with a hot glare that would’ve been amusing at another time. But now, at this moment, he couldn’t summon up any emotion other than anger and bitterness. “Okay, I’m going for a walk…somewhere. Be back.”

  With that she left the apartment, leaving just the two of them. No, three of them. Him, her, and the lie. The huge, humiliating lie.

  “I’m so sorry, Zephirin,” she whispered. “I planned on telling you everything tonight—”

  He barked a hard crack of laughter. “Save it. Just tell me, was this some kind of twin joke? You take her place and see if anyone could figure it out? Was this your twisted version of revenge on the football players who bullied you? Hell, I don’t even know if that was true,” he said, shaking his head.

  She paled, reeling back for a moment before straightening. He fisted his fingers by his thighs, calling himself ten different kinds of fool for the involuntary impulse that surged within him—the one that had him taking a step toward her, to touch her, comfort her. Goddamn. A masochistic part of him must enjoy being humiliated.

  “No,” she breathed. Then stronger, “No. All that was true. I swear. And this wasn’t revenge or payback. Giovanna had an opportunity to walk in a show in Italy, and she asked me to take her place in the Sports Unlimited shoot. It was a one-ti
me deal, something I’d never done before. And you…” She shook her head, her eyes dark with what appeared to be shame, regret. More lies. He couldn’t believe anything about her. “You were unexpected. I didn’t intend to see you again. I didn’t…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Didn’t what?” he continued, bitterness eating away at him. “Plan to make the conscious decision to lie to me every time you saw me? Let me believe you were someone else? Give me the chance to decide for myself if I wanted to take part in whatever charade you and your sister cooked up?”

  “I wanted to tell you. So many times. But I didn’t know if you would reveal the truth to Sports Unlimited and hurt her career. I couldn’t risk that for her. And then…the first time I tried, you told me to let it go. You didn’t want to hear it, to make our arrangement any deeper or more complicated than what it was—a temporary fling. Then the more time I spent with you, I became afraid to admit I’d lied. That I continued to lie. Because there came a point when it was less about Giovanna and more about losing you. I wanted to hoard every minute, every second I could with you before I had no choice but to tell you. And I had every intention of doing so, Zephirin. Tonight. I’d intended to confess everything tonight.”

  “And I should believe you?” He swore under his breath, releasing a low, harsh chuckle. “Hell, I don’t know you.”

  “Yes, you do,” she objected, shifting forward. “You know about my past, my likes, my dislikes. You know things about me that I have trouble even admitting to myself. You see me. One of the few people who do. No, I’m not a model—”

  “Let me guess. You’re the sister who’s an app developer,” he interjected.

  She nodded. “Yes. Zephirin, you were unexpected. This surprise gift that wasn’t mine, and I was too selfish to give back. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for hurting you, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She took another step, reaching for him. And for a second, he was so desperate for her touch—so desperate to believe her—that he almost met her halfway. Almost took that delicate hand in his and dragged her into his arms, against his body. Almost decided to forget the deception, the pain, the disillusionment.