Dating Makes Perfect - Pintip Dunn Page 0,11

but if he’s looking for my sister, then he’s too late.

“Bunny!”

Yep, she’s gone, too. Hasn’t he learned after nineteen years that you can’t find one twin without the other?

“Sophie!”

My eyes widen. Okay, now this is officially strange, since our beloved miniature schnauzer passed a year ago.

“Winnie. That’s right.” Papa strolls out of the garage, shaking his head. “One of these days, I’ll be able to keep you girls straight.”

I gape. “Did you just call the dog’s name before mine?”

“I’m not actually confusing you.” He jingles a set of keys to the Prius. Since Mama’s driving the twins to college, he’s taking me to school today. “I read this article. I’m only used to saying the twins’ names because they were home this week. And I was remembering how Sophie used to bark and bark whenever a car pulled out of the driveway.”

I sigh. “Of course you read an article about it.” Although Papa is a cardiologist by profession, he prides himself on knowing a little bit about everything. The most densely populated island in the world (Santa Cruz del Islote); the relative speed of sound through solids, liquids, and gases (fastest to slowest, in that order); even how to dye his own hair ruthlessly black, like most of the men of the older generation in Thailand.

“You missed the twins, by the way,” I say.

“Oh, I said goodbye to them this morning,” he says as we both settle into the Prius. “I gave them each a jar of under-eye cream. To keep the wrinkles away.”

I let go of the seat belt, and it snaps across my body. “You gave them wrinkle cream? As a farewell gift?”

“I certainly did.” He backs out of the driveway. “Goodness knows, I don’t really understand all this beauty nonsense, but I heard some of your mother’s friends raving about it, so I picked up a few jars in Chiang Mai last summer. The formula’s all-natural. Made from a combination of twenty herbs.”

“Papa! You can’t give your teenage daughters wrinkle cream! That’s so rude.”

His eyebrows scrunch together, as though he’s genuinely confused. “Why not? I thought they would appreciate it. Aren’t you girls always watching those YouTube videos about skin care? It’s so hard for me to figure out what to give you as gifts, and Ari’s always putting on some sort of cream or another.”

“But not wrinkle cream,” I say between gritted teeth. “That implies that they have wrinkles, which is just insulting.” I fumble with the seat belt again and finally click it in place.

“It is?” He turns, surveying me innocently. “Would you like some, too? I have a couple of extra jars. Maybe your skin would benefit from an early start.”

I sigh. “Thanks, Papa.” He means well, even if he can be a little clueless sometimes.

“Speaking of early starts…” He flips the turn signal. “No kissing.”

Huh? I struggle to recalibrate the conversation. Does he think I’m about to plant one on the leather seats…or is he talking about romantic entanglements?

“No hugging.”

Gotcha. Entanglements it is. This must be about Mama’s newfound change of heart, which Papa and I have yet to discuss. “No worries.” I shudder. “I have no interest in hugging overly tall boys with overly large egos.”

Sweet, funny boys with angelic features, on the other hand? Different story. But Papa doesn’t know I’m giving Taran a tour before school. And he’s not about to find out.

Papa ignores me. “No touching, either.”

“Seriously, Papa? If I’m going to practice date someone, there might be occasions when touching is appropriate. A handshake at the beginning of the evening, for example.”

“You can wear gloves,” he says firmly.

I snort. “Should I get the ones that go up to my elbows?” As he actually seems to consider this, I shake my head. “If you’re this worked up over me spending time with a boy I don’t even like, what are you going to do when I go on a real date?”

“I don’t know,” he groans. His hands shake, and his skin is the color of wax paper.

Uh-oh. How did I miss this? Papa and Mama are always so in sync. From the time we were kids, it was a nonstarter to go to one parent if the other had already said no. I had no idea he wasn’t on board with her new scheme.

“Dating Mat wasn’t my idea,” I say slowly. “I’d rather stick a smoldering incense stick into my eye. But Mama insisted. If you don’t agree…” I lick my lips, not sure which outcome I prefer. If