Faked - Karla Sorensen Page 0,1

I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Developmental Psychology wasn't enough of a distraction.

But I knew what was, which was why it’d been my default in the first place.

Searching the internet for glimpses of your mother brought about strange emotional reactions. Unless you'd experienced those reactions, it was hard to put them into words. Occasionally, we'd get a postcard from her with an updated address, or a caption-less picture would show up on the usually quiet Facebook account she still had access to. Those tiny snippets were the only way my sisters and I knew where Brooke was currently spending her days.

Not that we ever sent postcards back.

Or reached out to her.

She'd lost that privilege years ago.

Even though I knew it wouldn't actually make me feel better or even distract me much from Finn, I found myself scrolling down her page.

My heart and my head warred mightily when I studied the last few pictures she'd posted. I wasn't furious at the thought of her; it was hard to be when we had such a happy life in her absence. But I didn't feel nothing either.

Sometimes, I wanted to punch her.

Sometimes, I wanted to hug her. Most of all, I wanted to sit across from Brooke Ashley Huntington-Ward and pick apart her brain. That was the most desperate feeling of them all, fighting for first place in my head. I wanted to understand why, and it drove me abso-friggin-lutely batshit crazy that I might never have that understanding.

As I scrolled through, counting five pictures posted in the past three years, my twin sister's phone lit up on the desk next to me where it was charging. My eyes cut to the screen, a force of habit because it was often a group text from one of our other sisters or Paige.

It wasn't from any of them, though. What appeared was a text from Finn, and like I'd trained my body to do it, my heart sped up at the sight of his stupid name.

Finn: Lia, PLEASE, I'll owe you a million favors if you help me out.

"I'll help you," I mumbled miserably. It didn't even matter what he needed help with. I'd do it.

But I didn't close my eyes because picturing my twin sister's best friend was another thing that made my head and heart war mightily. And every single time, my head won.

Leave him alone.

It would be too weird.

He doesn't even look at you that way.

Those were all the things I told myself when my crush on Finn flared out of control. And it had helped for years. It had helped all day.

"Text from Finn," I yelled.

"What does he want?" Lia called from the kitchen.

I swallowed heavily as I read the text again. "Help. He'll owe you a million favors."

Lia groaned. "He could offer two million, and I still wouldn't be able to do it."

"What does he need your help with?"

"Some fancy-pants dinner and award ceremony on Friday night. He needs a plus one, and since he refuses to find himself a date, his mom practically demanded that I go with. I think she actually put my name on the guest list because she assumed I wouldn't say no."

My heart clenched with unwelcome jealousy. "It's just dinner. Why not go?"

"I can't. There's this amazing guest lecture that same evening, and I am not missing it. I've wanted to hear her speak for years." She waved her hand. "He thinks I'm just being stubborn, but this is about my education."

"Of course, it is," I muttered.

Lia was physically incapable of admitting when she was being stubborn, which was about ninety-two percent of her existence.

The sound of her footsteps approached my doorway, quick and loud. Determined. Those were determined Lia steps, and it made me nervous. "Wait," she said.

I spun my chair to face her. "What?"

Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it, a frantic voice chanted in my head. Because I knew.

A devious smile spread over her face.

"No," I said instantly. Twin telepathy, y'all. It was a real thing.

"Oh, yes." She rubbed her hands together. "We haven't done a twin swap in years, Claire. Come on, won't it be fun?"

While my head tried desperately to wrap around the idea of pretending to be my sister for the first time since high school, it was a faint whisper compared to what my heart was doing.

That particular organ buried in my chest was roaring and thrashing, screaming at me to do this one thing that would grant me my greatest unfulfilled wish.

Time with Finn.

"I