Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine. That's life.

The first time Alex invited me to her apartment, I couldn't believe how bare her apartment was. But the first time she invited me into her bedroom, I was astounded. "You have thirty American Girl dolls on your dresser!"

Her piercing blue eyes met mine as she said sharply, "Twenty-seven, actually. I collected them when I was little and I have every single one they ever made." Her face softened into a sheepish smile. "I sleep with them sometimes. Well, that one." She pointed to one of the ones with brown hair and brown eyes.

Honestly, I couldn't tell the difference between the one she was pointing to and the other twenty-six, except that they were all wearing different outfits. "I'm guessing you have a drawer full of doll clothes too."

"Actually, no."

"No?"

Her grin widened. "I have a closet devoted to them."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, fine. Why that one in particular?"

Her smile became perfectly predatory. "Wouldn't you just like to know?"

"Not really, but you might as well tell me."

"Guess what her name is."

I threw up my hands. "How the hell would I know?"

"Okay, I'll give you a hint. It starts with O and ends with A."

Hmm. So the doll she slept with at night had brown hair and brown eyes and its name started with O and ended with A – I would have had to be the worst detective on Earth if I hadn't figured it out. "Yes, Alex, I will come to bed with you," I said, not caring if that was how she'd meant it.

But when I saw the look on her face, I was positive that it was.

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