by Portia Moore
“Wash away my sins!!!” Blue sings once we’re outside. It’s started to rain and he’s grinning like a crazy person. I glance over at Alana and she giggles and my stomach knots. That’s Alana’s laugh, sort of.
I open the door and practically drag Blue’s ass up the stairs. I hate that he’s drunk. I need to know how the hell he knows her. We finally make it to my apartment door and I open it up and let them in. I help Blue over to the couch and he falls onto it.
“Don’t throw up on my shit dude,” I tell him and he only grunts, slightly lifting his head up.
“His things are in the car.” Every time she speaks my stomach does a flip. I turn on the lamp and it illuminates the room. She crosses her arms over her stomach like she’s protecting herself. Her eyes are strictly on Blue.
“He found out his girlfriend was cheating on him tonight. Well actually, we saw them,” she explains, her eyes glued to the floor.
Look at me ALANA!
I scream in my head. As if she heard me, her eyes slowly meet mine before they lock on my chest.
“So you’re not his girlfriend?” I ask again to make sure I heard her right. She looks confused.
“No, we’re just friends,” and I think back to him on the phone announcing he was at my house and staying for a few days with some girl. I never thought it was THE girl, or a fucking doppelganger.
“Uhm can I use your bathroom?” she asks casually. I nod slowly trying to figure out what the hell is going on. When I hear the door shut I run over to Blue and shake him.
“Hey, hey! Where the hell did you meet her? Why are you calling her Megan?” I say, frantically shaking him.
“That’s her name, leave me alone fucktard I need to sleep,” he slurs, pushing me back.
“How’d you meet her!” I whisper loudly and he groans and attempts to push me back again.
“Tell me and I’ll let you go to sleep,” I demand.
“She’s Katie’s brother’s girlfriend,” he growls before grabbing one of my couch cushions and putting it over his head.
“I vaguely recall the girl’s name he was into being Katie but what makes my stomach crawl is that he said she is some dude’s girlfriend. My lips are pressed so firmly together they hurt. I squint away the tears in my eyes. I head into my bedroom and slam the door.
I know I’ve got to get it together. Maybe I’ve finally lost it, maybe this isn’t her, but no…it has to be her. There is no way she could see me after everything and pretend she doesn’t know me. She’s not a damned actress, and she wouldn’t come here to where I live and pull this shit. I crash my butt on the bed and try to think. It could be her sister. Alana grew up in foster care and had no clue who the rest of her family was. It’s possible, but what are the chances that her twin sister would end up here? If she is her sister she probably thinks I’m nuts, but then why would she look at me like that when I first saw her? She knew me, who I was. Or did I imagine it?
I’m so fucking high!
I get a bottle of water and start to down it hoping to clear my head. If this is her though, and she’s fucking with me, coming here pretending she doesn’t know me and making me lose my mind again, I’ll kill her. She has no idea what I went through when she left. I head back into the living room.
“Thank you for letting us crash here.” Her voice isn’t how it is normally; it’s a tad deeper, her words more pronounced. Her eyes avoid mine purposely and they should, if it’s her. Her gaze darts around the apartment, taking everything in.
“You have a nice place,” she says, clearing her throat.
“Do you have any sisters?” I ask her and she looks taken aback.
“Uhm...yeah, actually. Two,” she says nervously.
“What’s their names?” I ask her, hearing the desperation in my voice.
“I’m sorry but is there a reason that you’re asking?” Her voice breaks as she rubs the back of her neck. My eyes go to her fingernails. They’re short and a light pink. Alana always wore her nails long and pointed. They would rip my back to shreds every night. I swallow the lump in my throat. “You look like someone I used to know,” I tell her, my eyes completely focused on hers, and they twinkle at me.
“I’ve gotten that a lot today,” she says with a quiet sigh.
“What are your sisters’ names? Do you have a twin?” I ask her, standing up from my seat and walking towards her. I notice her consciously taking steps away from me.
“No…Is there a reason you keep asking me this?” she says bewildered, and I realize if this really isn’t Alana I’m freaking this innocent girl out. I take a deep breath and try not to explode. Around Alana that’s never been easy, but I don’t really know if it’s her yet. Everything in me is telling me this is her but…there’s something off and my senses being impaired isn’t helping.
“Can I show you something?” I ask her, and she barely nods. I get out my phone and pull up the picture I kept saved of us. The only one I didn’t delete after I tried to erase her from my memory, after she left me with a fucking Dear John letter telling me to let her go, like I could just forget the person I expected to wake up to every day for the rest of my life, pretend she never existed. I look at the picture one more time and back at the girl standing in front of me. The resemblance isn’t beyond striking—it’s exact. I hold out the phone to her. She looks at me curiously before taking it and when her eyes find the picture her breath hitches. She looks at me, confusion filling her face.
“How did you get this?” her voice disappears beneath her breath. My heart is fighting its way out of my chest. I don’t know what to think. Her eyes reveal fear, confusion, and panic…things I’ve never seen in her before.
“I took it. I’m a photographer.” My voice is shaking like an earthquake. It’s a stupid thing to say. It’s a selfie photo of us, something a first-grader could have taken…but I consider it one of the greatest works I’ve ever done.
I’m nervous, or more afraid, because I’m starting to think this might not be her. The woman I hoped she was. Her hands are trembling, no—her whole body is. I reach out to steady her and she jumps back from me as if I have the plague. My phone crashes to the floor.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes as we both scramble to get it. Her dark hair is covering her face. Her cheeks have changed tint, a blush of color traveling down her face to her neck. I fight the images of my lips being there, trailing down her stomach and breast. I pick up the phone and stand, running my hand over my face.
“I should go. I can’t stay here,” she says shakily, taking small steps away from me. I reach for her arm and she doesn’t snatch it away but looks at me, as if I’m a math problem, difficult and complex, her eyes full of fear and vulnerability.
“I—don’t know what to say.” Her voice is just above a whisper, and my chest is tight, and I fight stinging water in my eyes waiting for her confession, for her to admit all of this is a lie. That she left me.
“I lied to you earlier,” she says, her head falling to the ground. My face hardens. Anger starting to swirl within me.
“Not lied, wrong word. But…truthfully, I just found out about my family today. That’s why I’m here actually…” She trails off, cupping the back of her neck.
“I-I grew up in foster care.” I stop breathing.
“I don’t remember anything about my family.” She motions to Blue. “Blue found out some things that led me to Chicago. My brother lives here…I hope he’s my brother, at least.” She’s talking so fast her words crash together.
“I guess it’s possible that I have a twin sister.” She shrugs, confusion all over her face. My heart sinks. I nod. It would make sense. She looks like Alana, but there’s something so different about her. I swallow hard and step back from her.
“Small world huh?” It’s all I can muster and it comes out clipped and hard. She puts a hand on her hip.
“I have no idea why the girl in that picture with you looks like me.” Her head is bobbing from side to side, her breathin
g going faster and faster. My phone rings. I hit ignore.
“You…was she, your…girlfriend?” Her words are cautious. I pull out my phone and read the text from Devin.
You found her?!
That’s all the confirmation I need. My jaw tightens. My eyes meet hers and I see them widen in fear.
She should definitely be scared.
“She’s my wife.” My voice lowers.
You see, Alana, I don’t know what twisted fucking game you’re playing but your name’s not Megan. It’s Alana. And this game you’re playing is over. You mentally broke me, my heart, and everything in between. And now I’m going to break you…
The sequel to HER releases on October 22nd
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Portia.
Also by portia moore
The If I Break Series
Before Him
If I Break
Before I Break
Almost Broken
Beautifully Broken
Shattered Pieces
Time Duet
What Happens After
The Trouble with Before
Stand Alones
He Lived Next Door