Switch Hitter

by Sara Ney

  “Wh-What do you mean?” Playing dumb: one more thing Lucy and I have in common, although she’s always been better at it than I am.

  “You’re such a terrible actress.”

  I say nothing; I couldn’t possibly.

  Dante’s hands come out of his pockets so he can throw them in the air, frustration tangible, intense. “Would you just tell me! Tell me the truth. I’ve been really patient here, putting up with this twin bullshit.” He blows out a puff of air, trying to remain calm. “I know you’re pretending to be Lucy.”

  I feel my eyes go as wide as saucers.

  “Anyone with half a fucking brain can tell you’re not her, and I’ve been going out of my fucking mind.” His hands gesture around his head like his brain is exploding as he continues his rant. “Trying to figure out what to fucking do about this—pardon my French—because Jesus, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy that you won’t even say your name. Can’t you understand that?”

  My head nods slowly.

  “Can you please just be honest about who you are and put me out of my goddamn misery? I swear, I don’t even give a shit that you lied.” He pauses. “Well, I do, but I won’t be a dick about it. I’ll get over it. I’ve done nothing but dwell on this the past few days, so can you do me a favor and just be honest?”

  My breath is coming as hard and fast as his stream of words, steam rising from my mouth against the freezing pre-winter air. The tip of my nose is cold too, and probably getting red as we stand out here, gawking at each other.

  Those large hands of his get stuffed back into the pockets of his jeans, and he watches me expectantly. “Now it’s your turn to say something.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Let’s start with this: do you even give the slightest shit about me?”

  I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry.

  “Yes.” My shoulders sag. “Yes I care.”

  He’s closer now, arms at his side. “¿Cuál es tu nombre?” What’s your name?

  “Yo me llamo,” I begin, voice cracking. “Amelia.”

  My name is Amelia.

  “Amelia,” he repeats back, my name a revelation. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “How…” I swallow hard. “How long have you known?”

  He falters briefly, choosing his words. “I knew something wasn’t right almost from the minute I saw you. There were a few things that stuck out that I couldn’t make sense of, then you smiled and I saw this.” He takes his finger and touches the spot below my lip, the one he wanted to touch while we danced at the concert, only this time when his finger presses into it, I’m able to enjoy it. “And your laugh is different.”

  It’s true. My laugh is different, lower and less chipper, not as flamboyant or brash as Lucy’s tends to be, mostly because she likes drawing attention to herself.

  “I have no idea what to say. We didn’t switch places to be malicious. I was trying to help my sister, and this is a first.”

  “What’s a first?”

  “We’ve never been busted.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to bust you for lying. I brought you here because I like you. I told your sister on the phone that I—”

  “Wait, you talked to my sister? She knows?”

  “Of course she does. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to be all fucking pissed when I pursued you.”

  “Pursue me?”

  “I said I was going to date the shit out of you, remember?”

  “Yes.” How could I forget? “What did Lucy say when you talked to her?”

  “She’s the one who helped me get you here.” He rakes a mammoth paw through his dark, silky hair. “After you broke up with me, I stood in that goddamn parking lot staring after you, wondering what the fuck had gone wrong, adding everything up in my head. A few things you’d said didn’t make sense, so I went to Lucy’s Instagram feed.”

  My nod of understanding is slow. “And found our pictures.”

  He nods as well. “Yeah. That’s when I called her—from the parking lot, I might add—to see if she’d care if I wanted to date you, not her. She basically tripped over herself trying to unload me.” He laughs. “She really does not like me.”

  “But you don’t like her.”

  “Not at all—I like you.”

  Swoon!

  Nothing this romantic has ever happened to me before, ever, never in my life, and I doubt it will again.

  “I’m thinking we should get out of here. I’m freezing my ass off.”

  “I’d like that.” I close the space between us, letting my hands brush up his chest. “You know what else I’d like? Kissing you.”

  He dips his head a few inches so our mouths are a breath apart. “Is that so?”

  “I feel like we’ve waited forever, don’t you?”

  “It’s really only been a week, Amelia.”

  God it sounds so good hearing him say my name.

  Mine.

  “Only one of the best and worst weeks of my life.”

  “Sometimes the anticipation is the best part of playing the game, don’t you think? The expectation, the tension leading up to the big play.”

  “Is that what you think this was? A game?” I’m trying to be flirtatious, but I don’t think it’s going very well; he scrunches up his nose.

  “No. I don’t think either of you were skilled enough to keep it going that long. You seriously suck at method acting.” He grabs my hand, and I feel butterflies. He kisses my forehead.

  Ugh.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  I go, willingly.

  ***

  “Your friends aren’t going to think this is crazy, right?”

  We’re outside on the large front porch of the baseball house, about to go inside. Dante’s left hand is poised to pull the screen door open, foot propped on the threshold, his right hand gripping mine.

  I stop him from going in with a gentle tug, worrying my bottom lip.

  “No, why would they?”

  “You dated one sister, now you’re dating the other,” I explain. “You don’t think your friends are going to have a problem with that?”

  “Mi cielo, my friends aren’t going to know the difference. They’re a bunch of idiots.”

  I blush at the term of endearment. My heaven.

  “Okay. I just don’t want them to think I’m, you know…shady.”

  “No one is going to think you’re shady.” His laugh is deep, amused. “If anything, they’ll think it’s fucking awesome I dated twins.”

  I snort. “You’re not Hugh Hefner—you didn’t date us at the same time.”

  “But I kind of did.” He turns to face me, stepping down off the stoop and pulling me into his body, hands sliding to my waist.

  “But it’s not like you knew.”

  I watch his mouth, engrossed by his lips. “My friends would still think I’m badass if I told them about it.”

  “They’d think you had a threesome.” I roll my eyes. “Because most guys your age are perverts.”

  “I’m not.”

  “That’s right—you haven’t even tried to kiss me.” My chin tilts up smugly in his direction, cocking my right brow.

  “You didn’t want me kissing you, remember? I’ve waited because I’m a nice fucking guy.”

  “I didn’t want you kissing me because I liked you.”

  His head gives a perplexed shake. “That makes no sense.”

  “I didn’t want you kissing me as Lucy. I wanted you kissing me as me.”

  He moves to cup my face between his palms, stroking his thumbs up and down my cheeks, giving me the tingles. “You are seriously the fucking cutest.”

  “No, you are.” I’m trying to pucker my mouth between his hands, but just end up with fish lips.

  “We’re not going to be one of those disgusting PDA couples, are we?”

  “You’re the one with your hands all over my face.” His big, rough, perfect hands. “Are you
going to kiss me?”

  His face inches closer. “Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” I whisper. “I’ve waited forever for you to put those giant paws on me.”

  I don’t know what I expected to happen when our mouths finally connected, but this wasn’t it.

  It’s so much better.

  Charged.

  The slow, deliberate probing from his delicious tongue is like a dream.

  Wet.

  Jesus, he tastes so good, so stupid good.

  Impulsively I push against his chest, backing him up against the siding of the house with a gentle shove, rubbing up on him.

  Dante’s palms grip my ass, squeezing. Drag me onto his firm body, into his hard-on, running those fantastic catcher’s mitts up and down my backside. Tense.

  His lips are full. Hard.

  Soft.

  I could swallow him hole.

  It’s not enough, not nearly.

  I’m so hot right now, and horny, and God I hate that word but it’s so true. I want to rip my clothes off so he can touch my body, so I can touch his. We’ve done the three-date thing; I’m ready to take it to the next level.

  This kiss is ruining me—I wonder what actually having sex with him will do.

  When we finally tear ourselves apart, Dante blinks. Blinks again.

  Mutters, “Let’s get inside.”

  “All right,” I say breathlessly, eagerness vibrating all my nerve cells. “If you don’t think your roommates are going to judge me, I’ll go inside.”

  “I really think it’s adorable that you think they’d be able to tell the difference—really goddamn adorable.” He plants another heated kiss on my lips, leaving me dazed and feeling cold when he pulls back to push open the front door. “Besides, most of these guys aren’t with the same girl twice, so who the fuck are they to judge.”

  They’re sitting around the house when we walk through the door, Dash tugging me in. We pause in the entry to the living room, and I give a short wave.

  “Hi.”

  “Guys, you remember Amelia.”

  They’re all openly staring, friendly and interested. Curious, like a group of toddlers would be.

  One guy—a huge ballplayer sprawled in the center on the couch, remote control in his hands—looks me over from head to toe, then back again, wrinkling his forehead.

  “I thought you said her name was Lucy.”

  I grin, responding before Dante can. “Nope. It’s Amelia. You must be confusing me with someone else.”

  The guy looked sheepish. “Shit, sorry.”

  Dante’s index finger tickles my palm as we move toward the hall. “Anyway, we’ll be in my room. Don’t bother us.”

  When we’re in his bedroom with the door closed, he turns to me and says, “That little fib slipped right off your tongue, didn’t it?”

  “I’ve had a lot of practice.” I grin, slipping off my shoes, already comfortable. “Mostly with family members and a few unsuspecting teachers in grade school.”

  “You didn’t even bat an eye when you lied to his face. Please don’t ever do that to me.”

  “I was just teasing him.” I grab Dante’s thick arm, squeezing. “Which would be impossible with you since you can tell us apart.”

  “Lucy said I’m your unicorn.” He laughs, tossing his jacket on a chair.

  This gives me pause. “She did?”

  “Yup. I’m a motherfucking unicorn.”

  ***

  Dash

  The differences are remarkable now that I know she’s a completely different person; they stick out at me like red flags.

  Obviously, there’s the hair, and the dimple. Her brows are arched higher, eyes sharper. Amelia has an air about her that Lucy doesn’t; she’s deliberate and thoughtful.

  Her lips? Incredible.

  She sheds her jacket, sliding it down her arms, hanging it on the chair I have at the table functioning as my desk.

  Truth? Now that I have her in my room, I’m not sure what to do with her.

  She surveys the space, hands on her narrow hips, taking it all in. There isn’t much to see, just a bed, table, chair, floor lamp. The bare minimum, not even a television.

  Nothing to watch, nothing to see, no where to go but the bed.

  Really it’s just a beige box where I sleep, and now I seem to have acquired a girlfriend to go along with it.

  I take a seat on the edge of my mattress, legs kicked apart, leaning back. Watch her preoccupying herself with my shit. The laptop on my desk and the sticky notes on my wall above it. The few books I have stacked on the table.

  “This is nice, clean.”

  “I’m really boring.” It sounds like an apology.

  Amelia turns. Starts toward me, stepping in between my legs. “I don’t think so.”

  My hands automatically slide to her waist like we’ve done it a million times, pulling her in for a hug. I bury my face in her flat abdomen, nuzzling her sweater.

  Her deft flingers pluck tenderly at the black hair atop my head then trail down my neck, landing on my shoulders. Back and forth, fingertips kneading the muscles there.

  It feels like heaven.

  “I don’t think you’re boring at all.”

  I raise my head. “No?”

  “Te encuentro fascinante.” I find you fascinating. “I love your big hands. They do incredible things, wouldn’t you agree?”

  My hands are fucking big. I flex them against her ass, skimming them down her denim-clad butt cheeks.

  She goes on. “And you’re kind.”

  Kind.

  That’s something no girl has ever called me, but I suppose it’s true.

  My nose finds it way between her breasts, and she laughs when I give her another nuzzle. I can’t wait to see her tits, can’t wait to get her naked.

  “And you’re as turned on as I am.”

  “Sí.” My arms encircle her, the tips of my fingers gripping her inner thighs from behind, thumb beginning to slowly massage the apex. “Te encuentro sexy.”

  Amelia bites down on her lower lip. “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

  I raise my head again. Her mouth is right fucking there. All I’d have to do is raise my face an inch…

  “We haven’t done anything.”

  Yet.

  “No.” Her lips brush mine with a moan when my fingers rub the delicate nub through her jeans. “But I want to, don’t you?”

  “Sí, but we can wait.”

  “I don’t think I can.” Her hips roll.

  “Amelia,” I enunciate with my accent. “I want you to know I’m all in. I’m not going to bail on you if we have sex right away.”

  “All in? Already, Dante, after two dates?”

  “Three after tonight.”

  “I can live with that if you can.” Her sexy voice wavers. “Do you, um, have, you know…condoms?”

  “I live in a house full of baseball players—there are condoms everywhere.”

  “In your drawer?”

  “No.” Shit. “I’d have to go find one.”

  “Just in case, maybe?” She backs away. “I’m a planner, very organized.”

  My kind of girl.

  “Be right back.” Planting an electrically charged kiss on her mouth, I bolt off the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  Shutting the door behind me, I riffle through three bathroom drawers and one cabinet before finding a brand new box of condoms, thanking Christ I didn’t have to go to the living room and ask for one.

  It’s bad enough that I’m planning to get laid in a house full of my roommates.

  I palm the bright pink box, giving my door a gentle knock before reentering. “It’s me.”

  Nudge the door open.

  Stop dead in my tracks.

  Almost drop the box to the floor, almost hurl it across the room.

  “Amelia…holy shit.”

  She’s lounging on my bed in just her lingerie, breasts spilling over the cups of her bra. The material
is lacy, sheer, and black. I stare at her pale flesh.

  Her shoulders rise and fall apologetically. “You said to get comfortable.”

  Getting naked isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’d be an idiot to argue and mi madre no creo un tonto. My mother didn’t raise a fool.

  I’m already tearing the shirt off my body when she says, “You have a shirt for me to wear later? Because I’m thinking I might spend the night.”

  Unbutton my jeans, slip them down past my hips. Kick them off to the side.

  She’s leaning against the headboard, watching me undress. “I’ve never met a guy so eager to be tied down.”

  Tied down, tied to the bed—either way, I’d be happy.

  “I was bred to be with one woman, mi cielo.”

  Amelia moves first, scuttling toward me on her haunches, meeting me in the middle of the bed. “Is that so?”

  She places the tip of her finger in the center of my chest, above my heart, dragging it down my body. Down my solid pecs. Down my rib cage. Over my abs, circling my belly button.

  My dick is stiff when she reaches the waistband of my tight boxer briefs, hooking the material, snagging it away from my skin. I think I stop breathing when the nail of her finger brushes the head of my cock, a pleasant smile pasted on her lips, schooled expression neutral.

  Neutral except for her eyes.

  Those are gleaming.

  Predatory.

  Shining when she clasps my hard-on with all five fingers. Gently squeezes through the thin cotton of my underwear.

  “I’d wondered about the size of this.” Her voice is a low, seductive murmur. Her hand? Giving me another squeeze. “And now I know. Hmm, your breathing seems labored. Do you want me to stop? Let you catch your breath?”

  I shake my head like a dope. Swallow hard, wanting so badly to jut my hips forward and thrust. Grip her hand so she’ll tighten it around my throbbing dick.

  “It’s probably a good thing you’re in such good shape.” She releases me—the tease—running both palms up my abs. “I’ve never dated an athlete before.” Plucks a nipple. “And your skin is so smooth—well, except for these goose bumps.”

  Still, I wait, not touching her, knowing I’ll get rewarded for my patience.