Page 81 of Hypnotized By Love

“It’s enough time for me to get ready,” she said.

That was true. And I would be going as Sierra, so ... “Fine. Go grab me something of yours to wear.”

She squealed and jumped off my bed, running to her own room. I slipped my dress off and considered whether I should put on cute underwear but decided against it.

It might have given me a boost of confidence, but I would trust myself more if I remembered the utilitarian stuff I currently had on. That way there would be no temptation to show it off to anyone, either.

Although I suspected Mason wouldn’t much care one way or the other.

Sierra came back in with a pair of light blue scrubs. “Scrubs?” I said. “Are you sure you want me to wear those?”

“Their being in my hands implies that, yes, I want you to wear them. If anybody sees you going up to the Beckett guesthouse, they’ll see my scrubs and automatically assume it’s me.”

She was right. I put the scrubs on, but I was not a fan of the way they were a bit bulky on me, and the material wasn’t great. I looked at myself in my full-length mirror. “If I get into an accident tonight, I’m sad that this is going to be my last mental image of myself.”

“It’s fine,” she said with a note of annoyance. I reminded myself that she wore them every day to work and decided not to say anything else.

I put my hair up in a messy bun, like she would, and used a makeup remover wipe to clean up my face. At some point, she had slipped out ofthe room, because she returned with her deodorant and favorite lotion. “Put these on.”

If I was going to try to create this illusion, I might as well go whole hog. I put them on.

When I was finished, she said, “There. Perfection.”

Standing next to her in the mirror was really freaky. We were always identical, but this felt more intense, as if we really were the same person in that moment.

I was starting to regret my decision. We might have looked exactly the same, but it had been so many years since we’d switched that I wasn’t really sure I could act and sound like Sierra.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“Go test it out on Mom,” she said. “She’s in the kitchen.”

That seemed silly to me—our mother was going to see right through me. But at least it would prove that I was right and Sierra was wrong.

I found my mom making dinner. She glanced up at me. “Hey, sweetie, did you just get home?”

“I’ve been home for a little while.” I didn’t know exactly how long, only that Sierra had been home before me. I went over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water.

“How was the ER today?”

My hand was outstretched, about to grab the bottle, and I froze. She really did think I was my sister. “Good. Same old, same old.”

That seemed vague enough, although I probably should have launched into some gross story like Sierra always did to really sell it. But my mom said, “I’m making a casserole tonight.”

I grabbed the bottle and closed the fridge door. I went over to the island and intentionally stood in her line of sight. Maybe she hadn’t gotten a good look at me. “Can I help?”

She stopped what she was doing and gave me her full attention, a small smile on her face. “The last time I let you help in the kitchen, you nearly set it on fire.”

Sierra had done that. Wow. This was working.

“Go tell Savannah that we’re going to eat in about an hour.”

“I will.” I hesitated, still waiting to see if she would be able to tell, but nothing. “And I won’t be here for dinner. I’m going out tonight. To do that writing thing with Mason.”

“Have fun!” she said.

I waited another few seconds for her to figure it out, but she didn’t.

When I went back into my room, I found my sister putting on my makeup. She had on one of my dresses. “Can you help me with my hair?” she asked.

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