One of Those Faces (15)

He looked up. “I don’t know. Maybe I just like to figure out what makes people tick.”

We carried on for a few more moments in silence. “Why did you come to the studio the other night?” I asked abruptly. It was a question I had been holding on to since that night.

Iann was still chewing, his eyebrows raised. “The place you work?” He swallowed. “I told you, I was supposed to go with my friends, but I couldn’t make it.”

“So why did you reschedule and come by yourself?”

He took a sip of the water in front of him. “You told me that the Tipsy Turtle—” He looked at me for affirmation.

“Tipsy Paintbrush,” I corrected.

“Right, so you told me the Tipsy Paintbrush doesn’t offer refunds. Is that weird?”

I shrugged. “It’s a little awkward going to that kind of place alone, isn’t it?”

“Well, it turns out I knew you . . . I mean, kind of.” He laughed.

“Yeah, but what are the chances that we met a day before you came to the studio?” I asked.

“Fate, I guess.”

I didn’t believe in fate. On the night I’d found out that Jawline was the Iann who had called to reschedule, I had briefly weighed the probability of it being a coincidence. What cosmic glitch had to occur for us to meet again so quickly after that first interaction? What had to occur for him to even approach me at all in the bookstore that day? I shrugged. “It’s a little weird for a man of science to cite fate as a legitimate reason.”

He smirked. “Well, psychology is a social science. And I think there are some things you can’t explain.” With his chopsticks, he wrapped a leaf of kimchi around a piece of pork on his plate. “For instance, why did you suddenly agree to go out with me? If that’s not a freak occurrence, I don’t know what is.”

I stabbed at a mushroom on the edge of my plate. “Have you always lived in Wicker Park?” I asked.

“No, I live in the graduate housing downtown.”

“If you live downtown, why are you in Wicker Park so much?”

He shrugged. “I bartend part time at the Robey, so I end up on this side of town most of the week.” The Robey was the swankiest old hotel in our part of town, with a rooftop bar. I’d heard Erin talk about it. It was where she brought her parents when they came to visit from out of town to check on the business.

“You bartend?”

He laughed. “I mean, I’m a grad student in Chicago. Of course I have to work two jobs. That’s the bare minimum to feed myself,” he said.

Once we were completely stuffed full of grilled meat, we waddled to the front counter, and Iann insisted on paying.

It had been such a long time since I’d been out with someone, and it felt wrong to accept a free dinner. “I’ll buy coffee, then,” I said as he handed his card to the cashier.

The cashier deliberately turned to me and said, “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here!”

I was taken aback and silent for a beat. Iann looked at me expectantly. “I, uh, I’m sorry, but do I know you?” I asked.

The cashier squinted at me, and then his eyes suddenly widened. “I’m so sorry! You look like my wife’s little sister.” He shook his head, his cheeks bright red, and ran Iann’s card. “Your name isn’t Jenny, right?” He chuckled nervously.

Still startled, I shook my head.

He handed Iann the card and receipt. “Sorry about that,” he continued. “I—the resemblance is uncanny. Have a good night!”

“That was weird,” Iann muttered as we stepped out the door and onto the sidewalk.

“That’s never happened to you before?” Now that we were in the open air, I could tell that we both smelled like smoke.

“Definitely not. I guess you just have one of those faces. I’m too weird looking.”

Not weird. But certainly distinguished. His deep-brown eyes were framed by black lashes. His nose and jaw were sharp and strong, like they’d been carved with a chisel into granite.

“Honestly, I’ve had it happen a few times over the years, and I’ve come to the conclusion that apparently nobody actually can tell the difference between pale dark-haired women.”

He snickered.

Usually I could write off the claims that I “looked familiar” relatively easily. The people who made the claims typically couldn’t put a name to who I looked like, just that they felt they’d come across a similar face at some point.

The recent rash of incidents was unsettling. These doubles had names. Sarah. Holly. It felt like my darkest nightmares come to life. Like there was another me walking around, still alive. Like Issi was back and I was disappearing. Like how it used to be.



When we arrived at my building, my heart raced. I hadn’t invited a man up in over a year. For a while, each guy had been a nice distraction followed by a good night’s sleep. But the morning after wasn’t worth it.

“Thanks for finally saying yes.”

I didn’t turn to Iann as he spoke. I stared ahead at the stairs. The stairs back to where I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Where Issi was waiting for me.

“So, you’re back to working on that project, I guess?” he asked.

I shuddered as the memory of the screeching sound from nights before played through my mind. I weighed the risk of inviting him in against my fear of being alone tonight. “Do you want to come up?” I blurted out.