What Did You Expect It to Feel Lie

Here it comes.

The first time felt like a car crash. I cupped my small breasts in the mirror and felt the weight, let go of them, and watched them fall and bounce once. I left my hands floating in the air and resisted doing it again and again. I squinted at the red marks I'd left with my fingers. I lowered my hand, pressed it into my stomach hard, and gasped when I realized.

The only difference between the two of us is that I need glasses and she doesn't. She wears fake glasses so we still match, and when she doesn't want to I try to wear contacts but fail because of how squeamish I am about my eyes. She didn't want to wear glasses today and I didn't want to wear contacts so I'm squinting at the red marks on my breasts - our breasts.

It doesn't feel like a car crash anymore, but it still feels special. It's a part of the everything that we share, the same body and the same mind and the same gorgeous eyes that peer back at me in the mirror. I squeeze my breast and clasp the nipple between my fingers as I lean in and purse my lips and whisper, slightly breathy to mimic her, "Fuck me, Violet, fuck me until I can't take it anymore, fuck me until I die, Violet."

This always leads to the same event: check the door to make sure it's locked, wash the handle of my favorite brush, talk to myself in the mirror like I'm Sloane and she's Violet and I'm giving her everything she's ever wanted.

"Violet, please, please, please fuck me-"

I position myself and move the top inside me.

"You feel so good..."

I'm getting so excited watching Sloane in the mirror, watching me fuck her-

"More, more-"

Halfway there.

"Oh, Violet, you-"

I hear a door slam in the hallway and I drop the brush onto the tile. I squeeze my eyes and wipe my hands on my skirt as I lower it and pull my panties back up. There's a knock on the door and I jump and squeal.

"Violet, hurry up, please."

"Okay," I answer shakily.

I wash the brush and put it back in my drawer and I lean my face against the mirror to check my makeup and my hair. I brush a stray hair from my face and I wipe a black smudge off my cheek. I wash my hands and dry them, staring into my brown eyes.

"I love you. You're my best friend," I tell Sloane in the mirror.

"I love you too. You're my best friend," Sloane in the mirror tells me.

I giggle, smooth out my skirt, and exit the bathroom to find her leaning against the hallway wall, popping a gum bubble. I hold out my hand and she gives me a stick of gum. I follow her out of the hallway and through the living room, past our stepfather asleep in his chair who stirs briefly as I close the door behind us. I follow her footsteps like prints in snow as we walk to Sloane's friend (my friend too) Jericho's car. We get into the back set despite there being no one in the front, and Jericho turns around and smiles at us.

Shopping is really difficult. I have to get two of everything. If I forget, I have to toss it or find another. Sloane doesn't have a problem with it, but I catch her wearing clothes she bought one of in her bedroom sometimes when she thinks I'm busy. She looks extremely drop dead in these outfits and I wish she had thought of me more than she did. Sometimes when Sloane is at work I wear the outfits too. Recently I tried on her bright purple short skirt and blushed when I lifted my legs and saw the soft curve of my buttocks underneath and the blue panties between. It's impossible to fall out of love with her. Everything is in my reach. Only the act itself evades me. I position her in dozens of poses and in hundreds of photos pinned up in my closet. I can make her do anything to herself, anything at all...

Sloane pops her gum and looks over at me with her searching eyes. I can barely see what's going on, and I moan and ask her to put on the glasses because it's too late to put in contacts.

"I thought you were putting in contacts in the bathroom?"

"I couldn't do it. I'm too squeamish, I told you."

"I didn't bring the glasses."

"I did."

"You did it on purpose, you didn't even try to put on contacts. You probably just fucked yourself in there."

"No. I really tried."

"You're the younger one today."

"No."

"Yes."

"Put on the glasses."

"You're not going to dominate your way out of this one." She smiles sardonically, taking the fake glasses and putting them on. I put on mine and the details of her face smooth from fuzzy bliss into crisp painful detail. Everyone is more beautiful with the beauty of blurred skin. "The older sister would be able to put in contacts."

"I only have to because you wouldn't stop jabbing my eyes."

"Is that true?" Jericho laughs, his face turned to the road and an arm in the passenger seat, turning over a credit card between his fingers.

"It's not," Sloane sneers. "She's lying."

"You're lying! You did!"

"You sound like a baby sister."

"You girls sound like a sphinx riddle."

"One of us is perfect and the other needs glasses."

I punch Sloane in the shoulder and she rolls her eyes and mouths, "Ow!"

"Do you still need to lose weight or can we eat somewhere fun before we go?" Jericho asks.

Sloane purses her lips and shakes her head. I feel suddenly sad.

"We still need to lose weight," I smile. "I messed us up with an ice cream taste test last week."

Sloane squeezes my hand and smiles gratefully.

"Smoothie place again," Jericho says.

I swoon at Sloane and stare at her bright pink lips until she punches me back.

Jericho pays for the smoothies and insists we don't pay him back despite how anxious he looked that his card would be rejected. Sloane laughs when he stops too hard and my face crashes into the back of the passenger seat. I stop frowning when she fixes my glasses and curves them back into place. My glasses are always slightly crooked because one of my eyes is worse than the other - this is, ostensibly, why Sloane doesn't like her glasses, because she says it betrays which is which. I've offered to make fake glasses that match, but she always tells me it would be easier if I could get over it and wear the contacts.

Sometimes I really don't like her.

In the mall, Sloane wanders into the shoe store while Jericho and I follow. He leers at her legs in her skirt and looks at me repeatedly as he does so. I cross my arms and refuse to say anything.

"What color panties is she wearing?" He taps my shoulder gently.

Pink.

"How should I know?" I murmur.

"Because you're wearing them too."

I purse my lips and say nothing.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to find out from you."

"I'm not going to tell."

"I'll lift your skirt."

"You wouldn't."

"Maybe."

"I know you. I know you wouldn't."

"But I really want to fuck Sloane, and she's busy and you look a lot like her..."

"You're not going to fuck me!" I screech.

"I know, you're a lesbian."

"Sloane is too."

"No, she's not," He laughs.

"She is, she just uses men."

"Sure. You aren't exactly the same. That's a good thing, by the way."

"It's not, and we are." I snap. "You're not going to fuck me or her now. I'll tell her not to."

"You can tell her but she always gets handsy when we drink."

"Maybe she'll get handsy with me."

"That's not bad for me."

"Eww."

"It's not. You think she's hot."

"She is."

"I think she is too. I think you're hot."

"I know you do."

"But you're sure you're a lesbian?"

"Yes."

"I just keep thinking about fucking both of you."

"Like you have the stamina for that."

"You've seen it, you know I do."

"No." I protest stubbornly.

He laughs, shoves me gently, then walks up to Sloane and surprises her. She recoils, then laughs and kicks his shin. He leans in close and asks her something. She whispers the answer, then grabs a pair of shoes to try. He walks back to me, grinning obscenely.

"What now?" I groan.

"Pink."

"What?"

"They're pink. You and her."

"She's lying."

"Let's find out." He points at her. She sits down to try on the shoes, and her milky legs remain together as she takes off the first one.

"You're a creep." I scoff.

"You're looking too."

She takes off the second shoe, leans across to grab the box, her arms going forward as her legs spread around them. She drags the box back to her, then sits up to untie the first of the new shoes. Her thighs come into view and then the pink panties.

"Liar." He says.

I run my hand along my hip and feel the silky texture of the panties through my thin skirt. "Yeah."

"Serious question, Violet. Would she ever date me?"

"Why do you want to date her? You're already fucking her."

"Because I'm in love with her."

"You're in love with me."

"No, I love you. You're hot and I'd fuck you but I'm not in love with you. I'm in love with Sloane."

So am I.

"She's a lesbian." I say.

"So you say."

"No, I mean- even if she's fucking you that doesn't mean she likes you romantically. Or that she's capable of it."

"What makes you say that?"

Sloane pushes her hair out of her eyes and uses the back of her hand to right her glasses.

"I've never seen her fall in love with anyone."

He frowns and looks away from her to me. "Huh."

"Yeah."

"What about you? Have you been in love?"

"I'm not going to date you."

"Not what I'm asking."

"Yeah, I've been in love."

"Who?"

"You know."

"Really." He clicks his tongue. "That makes sense."

"Does it?" I look up at him.

"It does. She's everything to you."

I blink and look away.

"I wish you'd told me sooner." He sniffles. "I feel like a dick for asking."

"What?"

"Asking you about taking her on a date. When you- you know. I didn't mean that."

"I'm not mad."

"I know. I'll back off. I mean, I'm still going to sleep with her. But I won't ask her out or anything, okay? That way we're both equal, you know. And she can make a choice or not make one."

"Equal?"

"Yeah. She's fucking both of us and she can choose if she wants anything else. We'll just leave it up to her. Assuming she's capable of it like you said."

"We're not- she doesn't sleep with me."

"She doesn't?"

"No."

"Well- why not?"

"Probably because it's wrong."

"Huh?"

"You know. Incest."

"Oh. I always thought it didn't count if it's identical twins."

"Maybe. But she and I have never- we've talked about it. We've never even kissed. I've asked, but she gets sad. I don't know what it is."

"That sounds difficult."

"I'll never be able to get over her."

"You probably could."

"I see her every day."

"If you moved away, then you could."

"I see her every day."

"Oh."

We stare at Sloane in silence as she puts the shoes away and talks to a clerk before strolling back over with a frown.

"They only have one pair in stock," She groans.

"Lame," I say.

Jericho twirls his keys and says he's going to get a burger out of sight so we're not tempted. Sloane points a finger gun at him, then twirls around, grabs my hand, and takes me walking.

"I have to get more exercise," She says. "That's the only differential I can think of. I'm reading in my room and you're dancing in yours."

"I can stop dancing if you want to even it out."

"Not in that direction."

"But you're beautiful," I say, taking her hand with my other and stroking the knuckles. "You really are."

"It's not much of a compliment from you."

"I mean it."

"That's sweet of you, but Jericho isn't going to like it if I gain weight. He's shallow."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe - he is. I've heard him talk about fat girls."

"I have too."

"Just until I can find someone else. Then we can eat ice cream again."

"I can be that for you."

Her breath catches but she keeps walking.

"Please let me be that for you."

"Not right now," She whispers. "Drop it."

We don't end up buying anything, and Jericho drops us off at our house despite Sloane provocatively asking him if we could go to his. We walk through the house and back to the bedrooms. She enters hers and starts taking off her clothes. I lean against the door frame and watch as she pulls her red shirt off to show the pink bra underneath. She slides the skirt down and I see the previously mentioned panties wrapped around the holds of her hips, biting into the underneath of her stomach. She stretches back to reach behind her and take off the bra when she notices me watching.

I stare at her expectantly.

She scowls, "Go look in the mirror!", and slams the door on me. I wobble back to my bedroom and close my door. I hear my stepfather yell at us for slamming a door, and then Sloane opening and slamming her door closed three times in response. I wither to the floor and set my head against the full length mirror. I want to see her naked but I don't have the energy to undress or the desire to act while I finger myself. I stand, move to the closet and look at the wall of Sloane, or- the wall of Violet pretending to be Sloane.

Somehow, everyone prefers her. Somehow, they can tell who is who, and they have a preference.

"Violet!" Sloane screams. "Violet!"

I run to my door, swing it open, and come face to face with her scrunched angry expression.

"Wear," she holds the fake glasses up, and snaps them in half. "The fucking contacts."

She drops the pieces into my hands and storms off.

She's just mad Jericho wasn't in the mood. If she let me help, she'd be happier. I'd always be in the mood for her. I'd be better than him. I'd eat her out for hours, until my tongue fell off.

I spend the next hour repeatedly trying to superglue the fake glasses back together but fail. They keep coming out crooked, but not the same way mine are. I think about just wearing my glasses, just letting them tell us apart, but I feel panic in my chest at the thought- I know no one will ever talk to me again if they know who's who.

I knock on her door. She opens it and lets me in. I know she won't let me sleep in the same bed as her tonight, not after I upset her at the mall.

"What?" She says, sitting cross legged on her bed. She's wearing her loose pajamas, the ones she wears when she gains a bit of weight and spirals out of control about it. Maybe that's why she's so mad. I don't care if she gains weight. I'll gain weight with her. I will.

"I thought you could pick out a pair of glasses you liked." I say. "That way it's less of a compromise. I'm sorry I can't wear the contacts."

"You say you can't but you can. You just don't want to."

"It scares me."

"What is scary about a piece of fucking plastic?"

"You're being mean."

"You're being the younger sister."

"I'm not- I'm really trying. I really want to make it work."

"Then wear the contacts."

"I can't."

"You don't want to."

"I tried. I tried, Sloane. It's too scary."

"I try too, I try really fucking hard to ignore your looks and how you act and every couple weeks you ruin everything and you tell me how bad you want to fuck me like I don't already know, like I didn't already give you an answer-"

"You never answered."

"Mixed signals means 'no'."

"No." I say, stepping forward. She flinches but remains. "You've never said no. You just avoid it. You always avoid it, you must be avoiding it because you don't like the answer and there's no reason you would avoid telling me if you really felt so strongly."

"I feel very strongly about this."

"Then try it with me," I say, pulling myself up on the bed with her. She moves back to allow me up, and doesn't move my hand from her thigh. I clench against her leg and the flesh in my hand feels ecstatic at the touch. "Just try it so you know. So we both know."

"We can't."

"I know we can't but you know we will."

She looks vaguely like she's going to cry.

I reach up and stroke her hair and run my fingers around her ear. I hold my breath in and do my best to keep my breathing level, do everything I can not to betray how excited and nervous I am. Tonight might be it, might be when I find out what she feels like on the inside, what she looks like outside the mirror.

"You're still a virgin, right?" She asks.

I nod.

"Then you probably need practice kissing," she says. "And it's normal that I would help you with that. Since I'm the older sister."

"Yeah." I blink. "I do. Will you help me?"

"I'll help you. Have you ever kissed someone before?"

No.

"Yes," I say.

"Okay," Her hand trembles as she places it on the side of my head. "Okay." She stares at me and her gaze flickers down to my lips. I lean closer and she does too. My hands tighten around her hair and I pull her into me and our lips crash into each other. It's awkward and it feels nothing like kissing the mirror but I like it and I want more. She separates and then comes back in and kisses me with more force. She opens her mouth and breathes in, and I grab a fistful of the blanket underneath us to stop the reeling in my head.

"This is a french kiss, when you use your tongue. I think it's called that," She exhales before licking my lips and then shoving her tongue into my mouth. It swirls around my teeth and then slides across my tongue. I imagine the spit pulling apart like slime as our tongues swirl into each other. She moans and pulls my face closer into hers, until our foreheads are touching. She grabs my shoulder and squeezes it hard. I tremble against her neck and tighten my grip on her hair. She wraps her arm around me and pulls us into an embrace, her legs wrapped around my waist.

I'm delirious. I'm dreaming.

She breaks the fantasy and pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and breathing heavily as she looks at me. I stare back and feel spit drip down from my lips. She reaches out and pulls it away from my face, then licks it off her finger. I reach out and I push my hands against her collarbone and-

That's where she draws the line.

"I like it, okay?" She says. "I just don't think we should."

"Okay," I respond, squeezing her thigh and rubbing her neck. "But if you want to-"

"I know."

"I'm here. I can help you. I want to, okay? I'm here to help. That's why god made me. To help you."

I feel a dim presence in the back of my head.

She's happier now. She won't admit it and I won't tease her so she doesn't revoke our late night meetings. After the kiss, she let me sleep in the bed with her. I got less excited when she put up the pillow wall. She hasn't let me sleep in bed with her since we were young, almost a decade ago. I'm making progress - and it's because I broke Jericho's heart. He's taking time to himself, he texted me and said. Sloane is pent up and she needs me, she needs my tongue in her mouth every night to feel calm. And soon she'll need more, and more, and more, until she can't leave my side. She'll understand that no one knows her better than me, no one could ever make her feel good like I can.

With enough time, she'll marry me.

"I gained another pound," she says, stepping off the scale in the bathroom. I sit on the counter and swing my legs, frowning.

"It's just a pound."

"Weigh yourself."

I step down and onto the scale. The same as last week. She's two pounds heavier than me. You'd never notice looking at us. She's going to let this go to her head.

"Same as yours," I say. "It's the smoothies."

"Let me see."

"It reset." I kick the button on the side with the top of my foot as I step off. She looks down and scowls.

"You're lying. Get back on."

"Look, you're wearing shoes. Take them off."

"I'll take off the shoes but you're getting back up there."

"You need to take off your clothes too, and jewelry, and your hair clips. I'm still in my pajamas."

"You fucking pervert. You're lying, aren't you? You weighed less than me."

"It was the same, I swear. Scales aren't always that accurate, not to the degree you're wanting."

"Then I'll buy another one. Take off your clothes too."