And we’ve been texting so often that I am almost disappointed when I look at my phone and there is no alert from him. Which is insane, because a week ago I was perfectly happy without him.

I exhale and click the lock button on my phone. “Bachelor?” I ask her.

She nods excitedly and reaches for the remote. We’ve caught up on the most recent seasons, so have gone back to old ones we haven’t seen. I click on an old first episode, where they introduce the “contestants” searching for love.

We make our way through skinny blonde woman after skinny blonde woman, hearing about their loves of raising ducks, tattooing elderly people or baking erotic cakes.

“People on this show have the weirdest jobs,” she says, refilling her glass of wine as a woman with Duck Enthusiast listed as her occupation talks about how hard it may be to choose between love and, well, her love of poultry.

“Hey, at least they’re passionate about something.” I shrug. “It’s kind of refreshing to see people care that unironically.”

“But about ducks?”

“To each their own.” I take a sip of my wine as the next girl comes on screen.

Although a lot of these girls look incredibly similar—there are only so many ways a real live human can resemble a Barbie doll—this girl looks just like a contestant we saw two before the Duck Enthusiast.

“Is that the girl from earlier?” Yaz asks.

“I don’t—”

I am interrupted by Brandy, who informs us in a voice-over that she is actually the twin of the girl we met earlier. As the screen cuts from B roll of her emerging from a limo to her being interviewed, an info bar appears at the bottom of the screen. It informs us that her name is actually spelled B-r-a-n-d-i, and that her hometown is Los Angeles, California. But it’s the final line of her bio that’s most interesting.

Occupation: Twin.

“No!” Yaz falls back onto the couch, cackling.

“Oh, c’mon.” I shake my head. “That’s what they’re listing as her occupation?”

On screen, Brandi flips her hair and continues her monologue. “Yeah, although I haven’t met him, I really think Joe could be the one. And at twenty-three, I’m really ready to take that next step in life, you know? I think he’ll really like me.” She smiles for a beat before adding, “I think I can win this thing.”

I roll my eyes and take a sip of wine.

My phone vibrates against the wood coffee table. I set down my glass and pick it up.

I can’t help but smile when I see the alert, a text from Braden Hart.

“Your boy?” Yaz asks.

I slide open the text. My eyes go wide as I read the message.