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“That’s because I’ve had twenty-five years of practice,” I said, looking at her over the rims of my glasses.

“Huh, I assumed you were older,” she said, and I glanced at her in surprise.

“How old are you?” I had just assumed she was in her late twenties.

“Thirty-two,” she said. “Ancient compared to you.”

“Yes, you’re growing gray hairs as we speak,” I said. She’d pulled her hair back into a low ponytail that I really wanted to take down.

“Ouch, that’s rude,” she said, but she was smiling. “But you do seem older than twenty-five.”

“I guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, going back to my plate before the food got cold.

“I really wish I could have seen you in high school. I bet you walked down the halls like you owned them,” she said, and I burst out laughing.

“Hardly. It was more like my sister shoved her way through and I followed in her wake. I was still really figuring myself out then. Even though Sterling was the younger one, she walked first, talked first, came out first.” I’d added the last part because I knew that she had an ex-wife, but I’d never outwardly revealed myself to her. At least not in a direct way.

“So I was always struggling to form my own identity. I didn’t find my signature color until college. That’s also when Sterling started with her tattoos, so it was like we were both struggling to define ourselves.”

Lacey sat and listened to me with a thoughtful look on her face.

“You skipped over the coming out part,” she said slowly. “Is there a reason for that?”

“No. I’m a lesbian, if we want to get real technical about the whole thing. My sister is too.”

Lacey nodded slowly.

“I know I told you I have an ex-wife, but I’m actually bisexual. In case it ever comes up. Don’t know why it would, but I am. Bisexual,” she said.

There. We’d gotten all that out in the open.

“Good to know,” I said.

“When I first met you, I assumed…” she trailed off.

“That I was straight?” I asked, putting my fork down. This conversation was more important than food.

Lacey set her plate out of the way and turned on the couch so she was facing me. “I guess I did.”

“A lot of people do. Not sure why. Maybe it’s the pink. I don’t know, but I think I’ve finally gotten to the age where I give off enough lesbian vibes that men don’t hit on me as much.”

That was a relief. In high school all kinds of creepy guys tried to date me or my sister or both of us and it was a nightmare trying to get them to understand that neither of us was interested, even if we were drunk. I hated how many people had admitted to me that they had a fetish for twins too.

“I think the pink works for you,” she said, and I found myself moving closer to her as well.

“Thank you,” I said. “I think your hats work for you.”

Lacey laughed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“But you look good without them too,” I said, taking a chance.

“Do I?” she asked, leaning closer.

“Yes,” I said and there was no question about what was going to happen next, but I was still shocked when she kissed me. Or I kissed her. I wasn’t really sure who led the kiss, but the result was the same.

It felt like every single moment we’d been together had led to this one. As if this kiss was as inevitable as the sun rising and setting.

Lacey’s mouth was careful with mine at first. Gentle. I’d been anticipating this kiss so much that I wanted to blow right past preliminary kisses and get to the part where her tongue was in my mouth and making my head spin.