Page 1 of My Twin Sister's Extremely Famous and Incredibly Hot Neighbor

CHAPTER1

Iswipe my paintbrush across the watercolor paper, loving the way the paint spreads on the wet surface. The spindly feathering mesmerizes me. A quick flick of my wrist sets another burst of color into the first. My soul soars as the color blends and takes shape and I know this one is going to be fantastic. This will be the perfect background for my next painting.

As I reach for my paint tray, my sleeve knocks over my water, and I screech as it splashes over my painting, muddying it and ruining the entire thing.

“Blast!” I jump up and grab a rag to mop up the mess. I try dabbing the paper to see if I can salvage it, but it’s no use. The paint comes up as I dab and the magic is gone.

I sigh and look around my tiny living room. My desk is crammed in the corner, and all of my watercolor paint supplies are stacked against the wall. I film my online classes in here, and that equipment takes up half the room. I can barely walk around the space. My bedroom isn’t any better. It’s so small my bed takes up the entire thing. I seriously need a bigger apartment, but this is all I can afford.

My phone sings out my sister’s ringtone, which surprises me. It’s been several months since we last talked. I pick up. “Hello?”

“Mackenzie! How are you?”

Her unusually chipper voice gives her away. “What do you need, Jera?”

She scoffs. “What? Can’t a girl call her sister just to see how she’s doing?”

I sigh as I mop up muddy water from my desk. “I can already tell you want something.”

Jera is my older sister, but only by a minute and a half. Having a twin was awesome until Jera got a lead role in a movie and became wildly famous. Now I can’t go anywhere without being mistaken for her. This explains why I hardly ever leave my Denver apartment. That, and crowds of people give me massive anxiety.

“All right. Here’s the thing. I need you to come to L.A. and be me for about a week.”

I bust out laughing. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s not funny, Mackenzie. It’s an emergency.”

I’m used to Jera being over dramatic, so I don’t panic. “What happened?”

“Something terrible.” Her voice hitches. That’s not like her, and I get a bad feeling.

“Are you crying?” My heart lodges itself in my throat as the worst things come to mind. Did she have a car accident? Is it cancer? Is she dying? “What is it?”

“I—I had my eyelids done.”

All my worry whooshes out of me in one big breath. That was not what I was expecting to hear. “You what?”

“I know it’s shallow, and I know it’s cliche, but this business is brutal. I had to fix my eyelids.”

I gape at the phone. Jera had plastic surgery? “What was wrong with them?”

“I desperately needed a lift and tighten. I mean, they were saggy and just—gross.”

“Your eyelids look just like mine,” I say, my voice flat. I pick up my soggy rag and walk to the sink. I have to hold my hand under it to make sure it doesn’t drip paint on the floor. The landlord already doesn’t like me because I spilled paint on the carpet in the hallway. In my defense, the hallway could use new carpet anyway. My stain isn’t the only one there.

“Oh, I’m not saying your eyes are gross. They’re fine. You don’t have to live with a camera in your face all the time.”

I think she just insulted me, but I ignore it and move on. I squeeze my rag out and turn on the water. “So? Why do you need me to trade you places?”

“You don’t understand. I’ve got horrible bruising. It’s all around my eyes. I look like a raccoon!” She’s screeching, and I’m about to hang up on her.

“Stop. I can’t be you.” Aside from us both being tall and blond and wearing the same face, Jera and I are nothing alike. She’s outgoing and always the life of the party. I’m awkward with people and would much rather stay home by myself.

“Yes, you can. No one will know. It’s only for a little while. And you can stay in my house.”

I bite my lip as I watch the muddy paint flow from the rag and down the drain. Jera’s home is a Barbie dream house, only bigger and with two pools. (Don’t ask me why she needs two pools. I asked once and got chewed out and never really got a good answer except that they’re different and stop being so judgy.) I try not to salivate as I shake my head.

“I can’t. You know I don’t accept charity.” Jera was always trying to buy me stuff, but I don’t need her money. I can make it on my own. I wring the rag and turn off the faucet.

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