Wade’s first thought upon waking was that his head felt like it had been trampled by a herd of Baldagaars. His second thought, as memories of last night filtered through the hangover, was damn, I’m good.

He sat up behind the trading post, squinting in the harsh daylight, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Last night was foggy, but he definitely remembered blonde hair, curves that wouldn’t quit, and a name: Alex. Not that he’d needed the memory – his body felt like he’d had the workout of his life.

“You absolute madman!” A hand clapped his shoulder, making him wince. It was Darren, one of the local traders, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Never thought you had it in you. Lucky bastard!”

Wade’s grin widened. Word traveled fast in Arcmire. “What can I say? When you’ve got the charm…”

“Still, sleeping with Alex? That takes some real balls.”

“Well, you know how it is when two people—”

“Though I gotta ask – which Alex was it?”

Wade’s grin froze. “What do you mean, which Alex?”

“Alexandra or Alexis? The merchant queen or the raider’s wife?”

The hangover forgotten, Wade’s blood ran cold. The twins. The infamous, beautiful, dangerous twins. Alexandra ran the merchant’s guild with an iron fist in a silk glove. Alexis was married to Krag the Butcher, who led the meanest raider gang in the wastes. Both were legendary beauties. Both were named Alex.

“I, uh…” Wade racked his throbbing brain. Blonde hair, yes. Gorgeous, definitely. But which one?

“Because if it was Alexandra, you’re about to become a very wealthy man.” Darren winked. “But if it was Alexis… well, Krag gets back from his raid today.”

Before Wade could answer, a shadow fell across them. “Well, well. The man of the hour.”

Alexandra stood there in her trademark red trader’s dress, cut just low enough to make bartering interesting. She bit her lip, looking him up and down. “Last night was… illuminating.”

Wade’s chest puffed up. Alexandra. It had to be Alexandra. Thank the wastes.

“Though my sister might disagree,” she added with a wink, sashaying away.

Wait, what does that mean? Wade thought as his pride deflated faster than a punctured airship balloon.

The day didn’t get better. Every person in Arcmire seemed to have an opinion on his night – and they all thought it was with a different twin. The merchants treated him like their new golden boy. The raiders kept giving him respectful nods mixed with throat-slitting gestures.

“Nice technique last night,” Alexis purred as she passed him in the market, her raider escort grinning menacingly. “Krag will be very interested in hearing the details.”

Wade started telling different versions of the night depending on who was asking. To the merchants, it was a classy evening of wine and conversation that turned passionate. To the raiders, it was a wild story of chance encounters and stolen moments.

The twins weren’t helping. Alexandra kept dropping things and bending over to pick them up whenever he passed. Alexis took to sharpening knives while staring at him and licking her lips. Both would brush against him in passing, whispering fragments of the night that only made him more confused.

“Remember what you said about the honey?”

“My husband’s going to love what you taught me about sword swallowing.”

“I still can’t believe what you did with that spineless cactus and skitterer juice.”

Wade’s stories grew more elaborate as he tried to cover all possibilities. By midday, half of Arcmire was taking bets on which twin it was. He’d heard odds ranging from 3:1 for Alexandra to 5:1 for “both at once” (a theory he thought sounded awesome and terrifying at the same time).

Then came the notes. Alexandra slipped shipping manifests into his pockets with suggestive inventory lists. Alexis had her raiders deliver cryptic threats that read suspiciously like love poems. Both kept making public comments about his “hidden talents” that had the whole settlement buzzing.

“You know,” a burly blacksmith mentioned while Wade was hiding behind his stall, “My name is Alex too.”

“Good for you,” Wade muttered, too focused on avoiding both twins to actually hear the man.

It all came to a head that evening. The merchants called an emergency guild meeting to “honor their new associate.” The raiders organized a “trial” for the same time. Wade spent an hour running between both events, changing clothes and stories so fast he was getting them mixed up.

Finally, in Arcmire’s main square, surrounded by what seemed like the entire settlement, Wade decided to come clean.

“Alright, everyone. About last night…” He took a deep breath. “The truth is…”

“Oh honey, tell them about our magical evening!”

The crowd parted. Wade turned. His jaw dropped.

There stood Big Alex the blacksmith, all six-and-a-half feet of him, wearing a blonde wig and what appeared to be a hastily modified version of Alexandra’s red dress. He was batting his eyelashes so hard they could have started a windstorm.

“The way you swept me off my feet…” Big Alex sighed dramatically. “The sweet nothings you whispered…”

“I… what… no…” Wade stumbled backward.

“He’s so shy now!” Big Alex advanced, lips puckered. “Not like last night when he was showing me his special hammer technique!”

The twins appeared on either side of Big Alex, nodding solemnly.

“We saw them together,” Alexandra confirmed.

“So passionate,” Alexis added.

“But I remember… blonde hair… curves…” Wade’s voice was reaching previously unknown octaves.

“All me, sugar plum!” Big Alex flexed, splitting a seam in the dress.

Wade’s mind raced through his alcohol-blurred memories. Had he? Could he? Did they? The cactus juice. The honey. The dagger?

He broke.

The entire square erupted in laughter. Even Krag the Butcher was there, crying with mirth. The twins were leaning on each other, cackling. Big Alex blew him a kiss.

Wade never did find out who he actually slept with that night. Some say it was Alexandra. Others swear it was Alexis. A few suggest he spent the night passed out hugging a particularly curvaceous piece of driftwood.

The twins still wink at him when they pass. Big Alex never misses a chance to reminisce about “their night of passion.” The story has become Arcmire legend, growing wilder with each retelling.

And Wade? He sticks to water now. Usually while hiding behind the trading post, watching for blonde hair and wondering what really happened that night.

At least he’s pretty sure it wasn’t Big Alex.

Almost sure.

Maybe.