In fairness, they do play up to the identical-twin thing. They style themselves with the same soft boy-band look. All dimples and cheekbones and sleek black hair that falls down in nineties curtains. But Cameron has this aura about him. It’s unfathomable to me that people can’t spot him a mile off. It’s like he actually glows.

‘It’s so easy to tell them apart!’ I say. ‘Ethan is such a straight boy!’

‘It’s not like Cameron has a rainbow flag printed on his forehead.’

‘Yeah, but he has this, like … gay energy about him!’

‘Gay energy?’ Chase squints at me. ‘You know, I saw this TikTok that said if one twin is queer there’s, like, a seventy per cent chance the other will be as well?’

‘So you’re saying Ethan’s a secret closet case? Don’t let Tiffany hear you. She hates you enough without you implying her boyfriend’s a secret homo.’

‘I’m not implying anything,’ he says with a smile of pure innocence. ‘I’m just pointing out the statistical probability. We Asians are really good with numbers, remember?’

I laugh. ‘I still can’t believe she said that.’

‘Or that she thought it was a compliment.’

‘You should have reported her for racism,’ I say. ‘Zero tolerance, remember?’

Chase shrugs his shoulders. ‘Since when do any of the rules apply to her?’

Tiffany and Chase have a long-standing rivalry. They played a lot of sport together before he transitioned, and he beat her at absolutely everything. She always disliked him for that, but then he came out and started playing with the boys, and was no longer competition. You’d have thought that would have been the end of it, but somehow it only seemed to exacerbate her hatred. At first I thought it was a classic case of deep-rooted transphobia, but now I think it’s something else. Like she always thought she’d eventually beat him, and now she’s furious she’ll never get the chance.

‘Anyway,’ I say, watching as Cameron finally peels his own shirt off and throws it into the pile with the others, ‘Cameron is clearly the better-looking one.’

‘The clue’s in the name, Zach – identical twins.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ I laugh as I go to grab my phone from the bedside table.

I see there’s a message from Bec, our mutual best friend. She’s written HAPPY PROM! into the group chat with a long string of suggestive emojis. She’s clearly got only one thing on her mind for this evening. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about that too.

‘Take a look,’ I say. ‘Cameron’s way hotter.’

I zoom in on their ‘twinstagram’ – a joint account that’s racked up well over sixty thousand followers. Admittedly I probably spend far too much time looking at these pictures.