The Opposite of Me by Sarah Pekkanen Read Free Book Online

pulled the sheet of paper off my cheek and prayed my lipstick wasn’t smeared across my face.
    “Hi,” I said to Matt’s girlfriend. “I’m Lindsey, and I swear I’m usually more alert than this.”
    “I’m Pammy,” she said, smiling sweetly. Pammy? I could forgive her for it, I decided. She was tiny and blond and looked perfect for Matt; his last girlfriend had been a moody vegetarianwho always made scenes in restaurants by grilling the waiter about ingredients in various dishes.
    “You’re going to be late,” Matt said. “You’ve got five minutes to change. We’ll wait for you downstairs.”
    It was like he’d thrown a bucket of ice water over me. I leapt up from my chair and snatched the hanging bag off the hook on the back of my door. How could I have forgotten what night it was? I looked at my watch: It was five-thirty, and I’d been asleep for two whole hours. This was impossible; I never napped. Why hadn’t my phones woken me up? Why hadn’t anyone come into my office? The answer came to me in a rush: Donna. Sure enough, the sheet of paper that had been stuck to my cheek was covered in her spidery scrawl: “I’m holding your calls and telling everyone you’re in a meeting. You need to rest or you’re going to make yourself sick.”
    For the love of God, why couldn’t I be the boss in anything but name around here?
    I had five minutes to get ready, five measly minutes to make myself look presentable for the announcement that could change my entire future. I could do this, though; I was used to pulling rabbits out of hats around here. I unzipped my garment bag and pulled out the black silk dress a personal shopper had picked for me at Saks. It was simple and conservative, but elegant, too, I hoped. I raced to the bathroom, changed, and slipped into the shoes the shopper had tucked in the bottom of the garment bag. They fit perfectly, the heels weren’t too high, and their style was classic. I made a mental note to use this shopper again; she could actually follow instructions, unlike the last one, who’d added holiday-themed sweaters to the clothes she sent over. I may not be a fashionista, but I know it’s a hanging offense to wear anything featuring Rudolph’s blinking red nose.
    I rinsed out my mouth with cold water, splashed somemore on my cheeks, and spritzed on a little perfume. Then I leaned toward the mirror and studied my reflection. My hair was still twisted up and looked okay, but I really needed some concealer for the dark circles under my eyes and eye drops to get out the redness. The only makeup in my purse, however, was my Cherrybomb lipstick. I’d never liked makeup, probably because Alex kept telling me how much better I’d look with it. I slicked on a light coat of lipstick, just to give my face some color. Matt was right; I did look kind of pale, even with all that sleep.
    I told myself I’d look better in the dim light of the party, especially because by then the crease marks on my face from sleeping on a wrinkled piece of paper would have faded. I popped a piece of cinnamon gum in my mouth and raced for the elevator.
    “It’s a Christmas miracle,” Matt said as I stepped into the lobby. “C’mon, I’ve got a cab waiting.”
    We hurried to the curb and smushed ourselves into the backseat of the taxi, with Matt in the middle. I moved my leg as far away from his as possible so Pammy wouldn’t feel jealous. The hairy-armpit vegetarian had hated me because she knew how close Matt and I were and it threatened her (my new suede purse hadn’t helped matters, either—but I swear I only got it because it was on sale). But she never had any reason to feel threatened; Matt was just a friend. My best friend, really. There was no way we’d ever get involved.
    Sure, the thought had entered my mind, but I’d given it a swift kick in the rear so it didn’t get any funny ideas about my brain being a nice place to settle down in. Two years ago, Matt and I had both worked late