We were the same face in two mirrors.
Same nose, same eyes, same soft voice when we whispered secrets in the dark. But somehow, no matter how alike we looked, Abby always shined brighter.
She was the twin everyone noticed first—louder, bolder, with that type of laugh that made people turn and smile. I never minded. I was the quiet one. The one teachers praised and boys ignored. The one who didn't need the spotlight because I'd already learned how to live in the shadows of it.
And that was fine.
Until he came along.
Until Judge came
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I still remember the first time Abby saw him. We were both in high school, and the school had just resumed after the holidays. Judge was new—tall, soft-spoken, with eyes that always seemed like they were thinking about something deeper than what he said.
Abby called dibs the moment she saw him in assembly. "He's cute. He's mine," she whispered, elbowing me.
I laughed. "You don't even know his name."
"Doesn't matter," she said. "Look at his jawline. He's going to fall for me."
And just like that, she made it her mission.
By the end of the week, Judge was hers.
That's how it always was.
Abby loved fiercely and quickly. I watched. I listened. I waited.
And I became Judge's friend.