The Designated Twin

17. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Lorelei

“You are absolutely stunning, Lor,” Lucy squeals, holding her fists to her mouth as she rocks back and forth on her feet.

The woman in the mirror is me, just… modern?

Not that I don’t wear modern clothes, but I don’t bother myself with wearing up-to-date fashion. I wear what I like. Like anyone should. Now, I’m wearing black leggings (I don’t wear jeans as the material suffocates my soul) with a flowy white off-the-shoulder cotton shirt with my black sports bra strap poking through. Thankfully the fabric of the shirt is thick enough that the bra doesn’t show through. My hair is in its typical ponytail, and I’ll sport my white sneakers when I leave.

Athletic chic, Lucy called it.

If I wasn’t actually beyond comfortable in this outfit, I would toss it and put on my work clothes. I’m not trying to impress Finley tonight. I’m trying to show him why I am not the woman he thinks I am. Not good for him. Not queen material.

Queen.

My breath hitches thinking about that.

That reason alone is enough to say that nothing can happen between me and Finley. Even if I wanted it to. Which I don’t.

I look at my beige walls and plants in my window and my ordered desk holding my client files and laptop. Frizzle and Frannie lie on my bed. Lucy stands at my side in a cute little pink dress with a bow in her hair. I can’t leave this. My place. My people. My home.

It’s okay. After this evening, Finley will see that I am not the woman for him.

“Hmph,” is my only response to my sister.

She rolls her eyes as we stand in the same place, looking into the same mirror, like we did a mere week ago. Seven days. I’ve known Finley for seven days.

“This is too much too soon, Lucy. I can’t go on this outing. I—” My voice rises to a squeak, choking off my words. My nerves feel like livewire beneath my skin. The places where the ends of my hair meet my neck feel like needles. My brain fogs over as I desperately wish to strip my clothes off because everything feels like too much.

So I do.

I strip down to nothing and tie my hair into a bun. Lucy only gathers the clothing that I’ve thrown haphazardly around the room and folds them into a neat pile on the edge of my bed. I stand there, naked, shuddering. Not because of the cold but because the sensation of air on my skin is grating. I can’t sit on my bed or wrap a blanket around me because the fabric would push me further into panic. I can only stand there, wishing I could levitate so that my feet weren’t touching the hardwood floor.

“Lucy.” I choke on a sob. “Help me.”

It’s a lost plea. There’s nothing my twin can do. I have to wade through this on my own. I have no idea how long it will last. It’s been years since I’ve had an episode like this. Patterns keep me safe, and my patterns are broken. Finley has tornado-ed into my life and misplaced everything. He was supposed to love my sister. He was supposed to laugh off our switch and date my sister. He wasn’t supposed to want to date me.

“Breathe with me, Lorelei,” Lucy says, launching into breathing exercises. I follow her lead, breathing in, holding, and slowly releasing. She encourages me to flex my toes. To feel the hardwood beneath my feet. To point out specific objects in my room such as my aloe vera plant, the one bulb that’s out on my string of iridescent indoor lights, and the stuffed elephant that I clung to as a child. As she coaches me through breathing and grounding, she reminds me that I am safe within the confines of my room. That she is with me and everything is okay. She reminds me that even though I’m not well, I am okay. Safe. Secure.

Slowly, ever so slowly, my brain clears and my body relaxes. A chill definitely associated with the air conditioning wracks my body, and Lucy gestures to my clothes then turns around.

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize I am standing naked in my room with my twin. I’m not embarrassed that she sees my naked body, but I am embarrassed that I had that episode. But mostly, I’m unbelievably grateful for this woman who nestled me close in the womb at one point in our existence together.

“I love you, Lucy. Thank you,” I say through tears as I get dressed. The sensations are still lingering, but they are not taking over me. I continue to remind myself that I am safe. Secure. In control. Okay.

“I love you, you amazing, beautiful, wonderful woman.” Lucy opens her arms to ask for a hug, but I can’t risk it right now. I shake my head, so she holds her pinky out. Where most people would view this as a pinky promise, as I interlace my pinky with hers, we view this as a hug. To me, it’s just as meaningful as her real hug would be. “You can do this tonight. I know you can. You’re scared; I see that. But I truly don’t think you should let your fears stop you from what could be a lifetime of love and happiness. Finley really likes you, and I know it feels sudden. It is. The man is a male version of me—falling hard and fast. Sending you on that first date was my romance mistake, but it seems like God has His hand in this. Go on the outing, Lorelei.”

“I’m sorry. But did you just see what happened?” I gesture around the room and then up and down myself. “What if I’m triggered by something while I'm out with him?”

“We should tell him that you have autism and that you just experienced sensory overload. We can encourage him to be gentle with you, and I can instruct him on grounding exercises to help you.”

“But what if I strip again?”

“I doubt you would do that. You retain enough of your sense and are in control enough to wait until you are in private. You stripped so quickly just now because you were safe with me. Don’t discredit all the years of work you’ve put into understanding yourself and learning how to live with your autism.”

She’s saying all the right things, and I want to believe her. She’s right. I have done so much work, and I can still think even through the fog of sensory overload. I could at least make it to a restroom or the car or somewhere private. Finley’s mustang does have tinted windows, after all.

“But what if he runs when we tell him?”

Lucy smirks. “As you tell me when I overthink a date, if he runs away because of something out of your control, we will wiggle our fingers as he leaves saying ‘Bye, scared little boy.’”

I chuckle, and then I remember that I’m supposed to scare him away. That way my life will go back to normal and I can reestablish my routines. Maybe if he learns I’m autistic then he will go back to Korsa and find another woman to date with intentions.

“Deal. But please do not tell him I just stripped naked in front of you.” Even if I am actively attempting to scare him away, that is too much to reveal about a person.

Lucy beams. “Deal!”

An hour later, the doorbell rings, and I open the door to let in a very handsome, very casual crown prince. He wears white sneakers that are like the male version of mine, dark wash bootcut jeans, and a white Henley quarter-sleeve shirt that pulls taut across his chest. For a slimmer man, he sure has muscle definition.

Which I should definitely not be noticing.

Nor should I be reeling over the fact that we match. Was this Lucy’s doing?

My cheeks heat as he takes a seat on the couch like Lucy instructed once I gestured for him to come in. I follow him without saying a single word because, if I’m being completely honest, I haven’t been able to rip my eyes away from him and his excited blue eyes and luscious blond hair, styled to where only the left side falls across his face.

He is objectively beautiful; I cannot allow that to cloud my mission.

“Hey, Finley,” I finally say, taking a seat on my reclining chair, a safe distance from him. Lucy plops on the other side of the couch so that Finley is between us. “Would you like some tea?”

“I was thinking we could stop at Books and Beans for tea before going on the nature walk,” he says. “If that’s okay with you.”

“That is fine with me.” I nod my head then shift my eyes to Lucy. She mimics the nod I gave Finley, firm and decisive. “But we would like to talk to you about something important first.”

Finley sits up and folds his hands in his lap. “I’m all ears.” And an image of a small Finley with Dumbo ears pops into my brain. I fight to stifle a laugh, but at least it lightens my mood. Sometimes I enjoy the weirdness of my brain.

After taking a breath, I state, “I have autism.”

Finley’s engaged expression doesn’t falter or change. After a moment of silence, he says, “Thanks for telling me about that. Could you explain more about how it impacts you specifically?”

My heart races at his affirming, receptive response. That is not what I was expecting. I don’t make a habit of telling everyone because it’s honestly none of their business. I also don’t make a habit of beating people over the head to make them accommodate me. That’s selfish, no matter what other people may say. But this response is a rare one. And it does something funny to my heart.

And apparently my brain because I have forgotten how to speak.

Lucy fills in the silence. “My sister is a socially awkward, intelligent, often overloaded with sensations, wonderful specimen of society.”

I glare at her, but she laughs. It helped me find words, though. “Yes, I’m those things, but it’s because I think and process a little differently than what others consider normal. One of my most showing and prominent quirks outside of blunt honesty and a desperate need for routine and pattern is sensory overload. That’s why I’ve panicked when you’ve touched me in the past. Sometimes it’s too much.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” is all he says. In a tone like everything has clicked and he’s perfectly okay with it. “Thanks for letting me know. I will be extra cautious from now on with touch. What other things get under your skin?” He chuckles as I gape at him. “Bad pun. But I’m not sorry. Okay, can we talk more about this during our nature walk?”

“One more thing,” Lucy pipes in while my brain struggles to catch up with the fact that Finley is not scared, shocked, or disturbed by this revelation. At least, if he is, he does a better job at masking than I do. He even nods along as Lucy instructs him on how to help me out of sensory overload and panic. Once she’s done, he salutes her and promises to take care of me. Lucy giggles and turns heart-eyes on the two of us before she says, “I can’t believe you are going to get married before me.”

“Not happening,” I quickly retort, and Finley doesn’t even seem fazed by the comment. He stands, holds out a hand to me, which I politely decline because I’m still not feeling up to touching after the overload experience an hour ago, and then opens the door for me to walk through.

As he steps out behind me, Lucy hollers, “Have her back by ten, King-in-Law! That’s her self-imposed bed time. Even on the weekends.”

Finley yells back, “Roger that, boss.”

And I laugh. Those two would probably be the best of friends if I married him.

Banishing the intrusive thought of marrying him, I make my way to his old Mustang and wait for him to open my door.

Well, darn.

The man already has me trained to accept his chivalry.

After we stop at Books and Beans for tea, Finley takes me to the nature center in Juniper Grove. I’ve been here plenty on my own, but this is the first time I’ve gone with someone. With a man, at that.

Well, three men if I’m being completely honest. His two PPOs, whose names I learned are Gabriel and Anders, trail behind us. Far enough to where they can’t readily hear our conversation but still close enough to act if something was to happen. I don’t mind as much as I thought I would when Finley introduced us earlier. They seem nice enough, and I think Lucy has been talking to Gabriel quite a bit.

Being here with Finley creates a different atmosphere than when I’m alone as we walk down the paved dirt path through labeled trees, plants, and the occasional informational sign noting the different wildlife in the area. I inhale the earthy smell. If I could have a cottage home out in the middle of the woods where I was given this smell every single day, I think I’d thrive. It’s hard to detach or spiral when I’m surrounded by God’s stellar creation. Every tree, animal, and plant is a fingerprint of His intelligent design, pulling me into a closer relationship with Him and worship of Him.

“You’re a Christian, right? Judging by the fact you came to our church, ask for prayer before our meals, and have your own Bible. I know those things don’t make a Christian, so I would like to know more about your faith if you are willing to share.” I reach out to touch the smooth bark of a red maple tree.

“I was saved when I was fifteen years old. I grew up going to church as the church and state are hardly separate entities when it comes to our country. Though, my faith didn’t become my own until I was fifteen, when I truly realized what sin was and recognized my need of a perfect Savior.”

“I was nineteen,” I say as I squat to play with the leaves of a young sweet shrub. “Though I always followed a Christian moral compass, I didn’t actually surrender my life to Christ until I was nineteen. I had thought that I had proclaimed Christ as my Savior before, but I forgot to proclaim Him as my Lord. Conviction swept over me, and I decided that I couldn’t navigate this life without His leadership and guidance.”

He squats down beside me; heat radiates from his closeness as he reaches to touch the leaves of the shrub. “I think that’s a common occurrence with people who have grown up in the church. That’s what happened with my sister, Astrid.”

“She’s twenty-one, right?”

“Indeed. And my older brother, Johan, is—”

“Thirty-two,” I finish for him, and then I realize what I did. I stand and offer a sheepish apology before stating, “I may have searched you after that first date. I wanted to make sure you were good enough for my sister.”

He laughs, standing. “That’s normal. So,” he trails off for a moment, “you must have seen my title of Prince of Hearts.”

“Yeah,” I say with the scrunch of my nose as we continue to walk. “About that. I figured it was fine. People date, and they date often. My sister is one of those people, which is why I thought your dating history didn’t matter. She probably has a list as long as yours. But me… I’ve never had a boyfriend as you already know.”

“Does it bother you?”

We turn down a lesser-walked path, stepping over fallen branches as I lead us deeper into the woods. “A little? If I’m being honest. It’s not that you’ve dated a lot; it’s that I haven’t. You’re experienced, and I am… not.”

“Are you worried that you won’t measure up?”

The bluntness of the question catches me off-guard, and as I turn to look at him, my sneaker gets caught between two limbs. My ankle pops, and I tumble backwards towards the ground, closing my eyes to prepare for impact.

But the impact never comes.

Instead, I open my eyes to see Finley’s perfect face mere inches from mine, his breath, which smells of peppermint tea, wafts over me as he releases a breath of relief and begins to lift me up from the dip he held me in. If we were on a dance floor, we would have received a ten out of ten for perfect execution.

Once I’m stable and on my feet, he drops his hands from my back.

“You okay?” he asks, his head tilted as he examines me.

“I’m fine,” I lie. Okay, on the surface, I am fine. But on the inside, my heart has decided to compete with racehorses and my nerves buzz with a strange desire for more. More of Finley’s hands on my back. More of his closeness.

S-T-R-A-N-G-E.

I don’t ever desire those things. Ever.

“So, is that your worry? That you won’t measure up?”

I shake my head clear, which he must assume is me saying no.

“Then what is it?” he asks.

“No, it is that. I think. Maybe also that I might be naive to dating norms and will embarrass you one day.”

“Not a chance, Leilei.” Finley’s eyes are a blazing blue fire as he steps closer to me, lifting his hands as if he is going to place them on my biceps. “Is this okay?”

I nod, swallowing any hesitancy. I do want to feel his hands on me again. And the feeling of being set on fire overwhelms me as he plants his hands on my biceps and tugs me closer to him. Again… mere inches between us as I tilt my head up and he tilts his down. I stand like a statue. Waiting. Though I don’t know what I’m waiting for. And I may crumble before long.

“You could never embarrass me. You are brave, kind, gentle, sweet, intelligent, cute,” his gaze trails to my lips, “arresting.” He bounces back to my eyes. “You could fall flat on your face in the middle of a ball, and I would help you to your feet, make sure you are okay, and kiss your cheek. You could become overstimulated while in the midst of a state dinner, and I would whisk you off to a private room where you could decompress however you need to. You could,” he grins wickedly, “flatulate in the middle of a church service while everyone is bowing their heads in prayer, and I would rank it on a scale of one to ten with a sultry whisper in your ear.”

At that, I shove him away and laugh, a blush warming my cheeks and a bit of anxiety creeping in at the thought of that. I shudder, dismissing the thought. “I would never!”

“Never say never, Leilei. Stomach problems hit everyone at the most inconvenient of times.”

I laugh some more and he joins in, the sound echoing off the trees around us. “Has that happened to you or something?”

He grins. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Duh. That’s why I’m asking.”

Finley shakes his head, making me beg him to tell me the riveting tale of when he almost didn’t make it to the restroom at a State dinner. The rest of the date is light-hearted and, well, fun. We finish the nature walk while bantering back and forth with the occasional topic change when he asks me to talk more about what it’s like for me being autistic. We visit the local library where he shows me his favorite philosophy books and historian authors. Then, around eight, after a quick dinner at the hibachi restaurant where I got to know his PPOs a little more (I couldn’t let them eat off by themselves; it felt rude, plus I wanted to vet Gabriel a little. He checks out.), he takes me on a private tour of the Adeline House. Naturally, these tours always happen at night due to the haunting factor, but I didn’t know he booked the entire place for us from eight to ten.

Of course, I find no evidence of a haunting, though I did find out that Finley kindly asked the staff not to initiate the usual jump scares that they do to toy with guests. My heart warmed at his consideration. I didn’t even have to ask for it…

As he drops me back off at my apartment and walks me to the door, hugging me gently, I remember that I was supposed to scare him off.

But instead, I think I had one of the best nights of my life.