A sharp, searing pain pierced through my chest as I watched the guy I liked—the guy I was falling in love with—kiss another girl. With every fiber of my being, I willed myself to look away, my vision blurring in a desperate attempt to escape the agonizing scene before me. My mind failed to obey; my gaze remained firmly glued to the couple.
Powerless, I surrendered to the nightmare, for a brief moment allowing myself to imagine that his muscular arms were, in fact, embracing me. After all, the girl’s face, with its pale complexion, high cheekbones, straight nose and cupid-bow lips, was identical to mine. Her glossy brown hair cascaded down her back, each loose wave perfectly matching my own. Even her slender body curved in precisely the same places. Looking at her was like gazing into the smooth, reflective surface of a moving, breathing mirror.
She was me.
Or was I her?
She fluttered open her long, dark lashes, and pulling me out of the fantasy, revealed the one perceptible difference between us: her emerald green eyes. While hauntingly beautiful, they looked nothing at all like my pale violet ones. She stared directly at me, tightening her grip on the only person in the world I had ever wanted to be with. Mocking me for being too late.
“Aurora,” he whispered in her ear.
In that instant, I knew with certainty that he was not thinking about me.