Logan’s Luggage Is Gone… So Is He

When their mother, Vanessa, first announced the month-long Caribbean getaway, Logan had been excited. A month of sun, relaxation, and doing absolutely nothing sounded perfect. But that excitement evaporated the moment they landed, and he realized his suitcase was missing. No clothes, no shoes—just the T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers he wore on the plane. It wasn’t like there were big shopping malls on the island, and when he suggested ordering new clothes online, his mother just sighed.

“You can wear some of Emma’s things until we sort it out,” she said simply, as if that was a normal solution.

Emma lit up at the idea. “Oh my God, it’ll be just like when we were kids playing dress-up!”

“No way,” Logan shot back, horrified.

Vanessa crossed her arms. “Logan, I’m not going to let you sulk in the same sweaty outfit for weeks. Unless you want to stay in the hotel room the entire trip, you’ll wear what’s available.”

He tried to argue, but the decision had been made. He went to bed dreading what the morning would bring, and when it arrived, he did his best to pick the least feminine thing his sister had. Unfortunately, that turned out to be a pair of tiny jean shorts, a pink crop top, and strappy sandals. He felt ridiculous, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“I look stupid,” he muttered, folding his arms as he stared at his reflection.

Emma stifled a giggle, but Vanessa simply looked him over, tapping a finger against her chin. “You know… I think you’re right.”

Logan perked up, relief washing over him for a brief moment. Maybe she’d finally realized how ridiculous this was. Maybe he’d get to wear his own clothes after all—

Vanessa nodded to herself. “You’ll definitely stand out too much like this. We’ll need to head to the salon to help you blend in a little more.”

Logan’s stomach dropped. “Wait, what?”

Before he could protest, they were already leading him through the resort toward the on-site salon. It was sleek and modern, with white marble counters and floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflecting the soft glow of warm lighting. The scent of hairspray, citrus lotions, and floral shampoos filled the air. A group of stylists greeted them with knowing smiles, and before Logan could say a word, he was ushered into a chair, his reflection staring back at him with wide, uncertain eyes.

The stylists wasted no time, parting Logan’s hair and brushing dye through it with quick, efficient strokes. He sat stiffly as they worked, rinsed, and dried it until his once-dark strands were now the same golden blonde as Emma’s, straightened to a sleek, identical shine. Before he could process it, one of the women tilted his chin up and began threading his brows into a delicate arch while another took his hands, shaping his nails into soft ovals before painting them a glossy pink. His toes received the same treatment, the polish shining under the lights as the stylists exchanged amused glances.

Makeup was next. A smooth layer of foundation evened out his complexion, and a dusting of blush added a soft warmth to his cheeks. His lashes were curled and coated in mascara, turning them long and feathery, while a touch of shimmer brightened his lids. A careful hand traced liner along his upper lashes, enhancing their shape before sweeping a sheer pink gloss over his lips, making them look plump and soft. When the stylists finally stepped back, Logan’s breath caught in his throat.

He didn’t just look like a girl. He looked like Emma’s identical twin.

Days passed, and Logan—or Lily, as Emma had started calling him—had gotten used to the routine. He had no choice but to wear whatever his sister handed him, which meant tight skirts, flowing dresses, and bikinis that left him feeling exposed. Vanessa didn’t seem to mind how easily he blended in as a girl, and Emma was having the time of her life dressing him up.

And now, halfway through the trip, he stood poolside in a skintight yellow dress and white mules, his fresh mani-pedi gleaming under the sun. His hair, now silky and perfectly straightened, cascaded down his back as he lingered beside Emma. She was giggling, twirling her hair, and chatting up a pair of guys who had come over.

Logan tried to focus on anything else, but his eyes drifted to one of the guys. Tanned skin, broad shoulders, the way his muscles tensed as he laughed—it was… distracting. His lips parted slightly before he caught himself, biting down gently on his bottom lip as a slow, simmering heat built inside him.

He froze. What the hell was that?

His stomach twisted as realization set in. The way he was standing, the way he’d instinctively batted his lashes—it all felt too natural. He swallowed hard. Was this just part of the act, or was something else happening?

Emma looped her arm through his, breaking him from his thoughts as she turned to the guys with a playful smile. “This is my sister, Lily. We were just about to grab some drinks—wanna keep us company?”

Logan’s breath hitched as they exchanged grins, one of them resting a hand against the small of his back. A flutter of warmth spread through his chest at the touch, his body instinctively leaning into it. His skin tingled, his pulse quickening, and he pressed his lips together, hoping to keep the smile from slipping through.

When this trip ended, would he be going home as Logan? Or had Lily taken his place?