“And then, we’ll coat the whole thing with hairspray so it holds.”
I’m about to ask what’ll happen if it rains, but relieved it has nothing to do with Pippa, I say, “You got it. Anything for my best friend’s bachelor party.”
“You’re up next, am I right?”
“Up next?”
“Yeah. Sean got married two years ago. Jonesy and Misha tied the knot last year. I’m on deck this summer, then it’s your turn.”
“Oh, yeah. Right. Well, I’m busy, um, you know...”
“Busy-shmizzy, foh-rizzy. Oh, gotta go. Aimme wants to grab pizza before the place closes. Talk soon.”
The phone goes silent and with it, my heart stops for exactly three beats.
Pizza.
Was Freddie just being his normal self—a bit bombastic, always gregarious, and sometimes goofy—or was the last comment a warning because when it comes to his sister, he can be lethal?
Taking a surreptitious glance around the room, I scope it out for booby traps. It’s unclear whether Freddie is an Mi6 agent or if Mr. Thompson set him up well with investments at an early age and he lives off the dividends.
All I know is that I have to forget about Pippa andPizza. Looking back, she’s always been a handful. Everyone at school had a story about her, extending back to the primary grades.
Mine: I didn’t know she was Freddie’s twin sister until our third rugby game when he came at me like a freight train. I didn’t know why until later, when another teammate commented that he’d been brutal on the field that day and then commented that he was probably taking out his anger on someone flirting with Pippa.
She said she has rules. My rule is that if you’re friends with a dude for more than three days, his sister is forbidden, no matter how hot or adorable she is.
Sub-rule a: You have to think of her as a sister
Sub-rule b: You have to protect her like she’s your sister
Sub-rule c: but you’re allowed to prank her like her brother
But it’s impossible to think of Pippa with her deep brown eyes, bow-shaped lips, and bright smile as a sister. I avoid thinking of everything south of her neck because I’d risk Freddie smashing through my window like a superhero sister avenger and demolishing me.
Back in high school, they were different and I couldn’t be blamed for not realizing they were siblings.
For one, Freddie is a dude and Pippa most certainly is not.
Whereas he has dark hair and sharp features, hers is lighter brown and she’s softer and rounder where it matters.
Freddie is a prankster and she’s often on the receiving end, and would no sooner step in front of a moving prank to spare someone than she would conceive of doing someone dirty like that.
He’s the life of the party, always eager to entertain. It’s not accurate to say she’s a wild child or a carefree spirit. She’s not entirely quirky or spunky. Though to varying degrees she is a dash of that and a pinch of this, but not super social like her twin.
Pippa is more like a vortex of chaos. Delightful, beautiful, adorable chaos. Once again, I warm through like a ball of dough, slathered in olive oil, and topped with melted cheese.
