The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister

by Quinn, Meghan

  With that kind of reasoning, how could I not tell her? If I get in trouble, she’s the one who’s going to have to bail me out. “Okay, do you remember Bram Scott?”

  Clarissa wipes her mouth with a brown napkin. “How could I forget Bram Scott? He ruled Yale University and he’s Rath’s best friend. It’s hard to forget someone like him.”

  “Yeah, well he came to me recently and asked to be a part of my program.”

  “Wait”—Clarissa presses her hand to my arm—“Bram Scott asked you to match him up. The same Bram Scott who never once had a girlfriend in college, or anytime after that, that we know of.”

  I nod. “Yup, that Bram Scott.”

  “Well, that’s confusing.”

  “Tell me about it. I was so thrown off that I actually didn’t think he was serious, so I asked Rath if it was part of their Fantasy Football League bet.”

  “Oh Jesus, it was, wasn’t it?”

  I nod and take a bite of my sandwich, chewing quickly before speaking. “They both denied it but I finally wore them down. I told Bram this wasn’t a joke to me and do you know what he said?”

  “Probably something douchey.”

  “No”—I shake my head, on a roll now—“he told me he wanted to find love.”

  Clarissa is mid sip of her drink when she starts coughing and spurting water all over her pants. “What? There is no way.”

  “That’s what I thought. But he’s serious. He went through all the questions, sat through the interview process, and is now waiting for me to set up an appointment to go over his results.”

  “Wow.” Clarissa sits back. “I mean . . . WOW. I never would have expected that from him. Why the sudden change?”

  “I guess he thinks it’s time he settles down.”

  “Well, I guess guys can change, but imagine that.” Clarissa is a little jaded from her past relationships so her comment doesn’t strike me as odd. “So you ran him through all the tests, what color is he?”

  I take a sip of my water, really washing down the cheese before answering, because honestly, I still can’t believe it.

  “This is what I’m having trouble with, why I’m having a weird day.”

  “Is it not what you were expecting?”

  I wipe my fingers on my napkin and lean back on the couch, feeling so freaking confused. “Not even a little. I was certain he was a blue or a green.”

  “He’s not?” The twist in Clarissa’s nose leads me to believe she’s just as confused as I am. She knows all about the dating program. She’s gone through all the different personalities with me multiple times, especially after helping me with the legal paperwork, so her surprise is justified.

  “No.” As if I’m telling a secret, I whisper, “He’s a red.”

  Her eyes widen and brow rises. “What? No way.”

  “He is. I checked it multiple times. His sexual personality is a red.”

  “I could have told you that, but it shouldn’t outweigh everything else, right?”

  “No, it shouldn’t. But when it came to his test, he fell into the red category with a whopping ninety percent.”

  “But”—Clarissa crosses her arms over her chest and turns more toward me—“he’s nothing like a red. He’s a leader, yes, but he’s also charismatic, he’s inspiring, he’s a helper—”

  “He’s a protector,” I finish for her.

  “Exactly. Have we read him wrong all these years? I mean, granted I haven’t spent as much time with him as you have, but still, from the short interactions I’ve had, I can tell you right now, that man is not a red.”

  She doesn’t have to tell me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the results, and am now feeling unsure if my program is right at all. Hell, he’s making me question my methods and years of scientific research. I don’t understand how this could happen. How he could so easily destroy every theory I had when it came to his personality? What does it say about me? How can I be such a poor judge of character for someone I already know?

  “What do I do? Do I really set him up with an orange?”

  “I mean, do you have a choice in the matter?”

  “I can’t make him take the test again, right? That would just give him the idea that my entire program is a hoax, and that’s the last thing I want. I actually had a few girls in mind for him, a few yellows and purples that I thought would be a good fit, but if he’s a red, there is no way I can set him up with those women, because he’d break their spirit before salad is even served.”

  Lips pressed together, Clarissa really gives the situation some thought, and this is why I love her. She’s not here to throw out empty suggestions, but rather uses her very capable mind to help stretch mine. Her points of view are always insightful. Even in college, when let’s face it, we were kids, it was the same thing. I’ve never felt our relationship was one-sided, but she was certainly there for me whenever I had boy issues, or whenever Bram somehow got in my head. That wasn’t often, but when he did, it took me a while to get over it.

  He has this ability to dig himself into your soul and plant himself there. It’s such a BLUE thing to do, the ability they have to stick around even when you’re miles apart.

  “You know, I hate to say it but maybe he is a red but just doesn’t show it around you because you’re Rath’s sister. Think about it, he’s a real estate investment mogul in New York City and he’s thirty-three, and that doesn’t happen very often. He has to have some red in him to be where he is today. Maybe he’s just more red than you expected.”

  “I mean . . . I guess so.” I chew on my fingernail, thinking about it. “But he doesn’t show traits of a red in his everyday life. Like, over the past two weeks he’s been sweet and kind—”

  “Because you are Rath’s sister. He’s not going to be a dick to you.”

  “But it isn’t just me. He’s amazing with his assistant. If he were truly a red, there is no way he would be giving his assistant the key to his house in the Hamptons for the weekend just for bringing us cookies. If he was a red, he would have forced his assistant to bring us cookies, only to tell him to wait outside until we were done just in case there was anything else we needed.”

  “True.” We both let out long sighs and turn in our seats, really sinking into the cushion. “So what happens if you set him up with an orange? I mean, if his color is showing as a red, then maybe you just go with the results, you know?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “I sense hesitation.”

  So much hesitation.

  “I don’t want to screw this up.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I look to the ceiling, recalling interactions with Bram. “From the very first moment I met Bram, there’s always been this air about him, that he’s right no matter what and he knows it. And what was really annoying was anytime I was ever around him, somehow, he always ended up besting me even if he didn’t mean to. He kind of set this precedent for me, like no matter what I do, I want to impress him.”

  “Julia, you can’t be serious.”

  “I know it’s stupid”—I run my hand through my hair, hanging tightly to the loose strands—“but even when I try to tell myself his opinion doesn’t matter because he’s not in my life like he’s in Rath’s, I still want to show him I’m more than Rath’s younger sister, that I actually can live up to the league he’s in.”

  “You are far beyond his league. You have your doctorate. He has a bachelor’s.”

  “With a real estate portfolio that rivals any millionaire in the world. He’s self-made.”

  “So are you.” Clarissa is sweet, trying to compare me with Bram but honestly, there really isn’t any comparison. He is superior.

  “But it’s not on the same caliber and that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to say is I don’t want to have put him through this dating program, all the questions and tests only to set him up with the wrong person. I don’t want him to think my entire program was a waste of time, because I think that would ju
st about kill me.”

  “He would never think that.”

  “If I don’t set him up with the right person, after finding out he’s a red, he’ll believe this program was a waste of time.” What if the women who he goes on dates with are also critical of What’s Your Color? What if, because they can see how poorly they’ve been matched with him, they have loose tongues and spread the word that my program is a farce?”

  Clarissa looks as perturbed as I feel, but thankfully holds her tongue. She can see exactly where my larger concern is.

  And honestly, even though Bram has been sweet, considerate, and interested, I know deep down I’ll be humiliated if he’s not matched with anyone he likes. There’s no way I can stop that feeling, so I’ll be meticulous finding the perfect match for him.

  * * *

  Bram rubs his hands together and excitingly says, “Okay, lay it on me. What dating color am I?”

  Just because I’m neurotic, I ran the test results two more times only to confirm what I still can’t believe. I then took my time really assessing the women I could set him up with. I went through their profiles, trying to find the best match possible. I came up with two women who I thought would actually hold Bram’s attention and get along with his hidden, inner red, and I just hope they work out.

  “Well, after really taking my time going through your results, I came to the conclusion that you’re a red.”

  “Red, huh, interesting. What does that mean?”

  “Well, it means that you’re business-minded and cutthroat at times, and like to take charge in the bedroom.” I try to lighten my answer a bit, not wanting to go too far into the details of a red dating personality since clearly reds are not my favorite.

  “Takes charge in the bedroom is very accurate. Good call.” He grins. “So what else goes with being a red?”

  “Uh, well, you can read more about it in my write-up. I don’t want to bore you with details or waste your time. What really matters right now is going over the two matches I have for you.”

  His brow creases and the grin on his face fades. “Yeah, the dates.” He scratches the side of his jaw, his eyes falling from excitement to completely flat. That’s weird. “You found matches?”

  What’s happening? Two seconds ago he had a teasing attitude, a thrill rushing through him but right now, it’s almost as if he’s done a one eighty and I’m seeing his inner red I never knew he possessed. Maybe I wasn’t wrong.

  “Well, I found two matches. You see, reds are a special kind of personality, they really only truly match up with one other color, which would be orange.”

  “Okay,” he says a little skeptically.

  And for some reason that makes me nervous. I can feel a burn in my chest, and I pray it doesn’t show through my blouse.

  “Taking your dream woman into consideration, I went through my oranges and have two women in mind for you.” I lay out their profiles in front of him. “Carly and Tabitha.”

  He doesn’t pick up the profiles, but leaves them on the table, studying them from afar. He’s silent, and I can’t tell if he’s happy or angry. Does he think the girls are attractive? Does he like their job descriptions? The personality traits I highlighted?

  He folds his hands together and glances up at me. “Which one do you like better?”

  There is no teasing tone, no smirk, no wink, nothing . . .

  “Um, I think Tabitha would be your best match.”

  “You really think so?” His voice is stern. I twist my hands together. Where did his sudden mood change come from? He leans back on the couch and gives me a slow once-over, analyzing what feels like every inch of my body. “You really think Tabitha is my best match?”

  Uh, am I missing something?

  “Well, after running through all the test results and looking through the profiles—”

  He stands and pushes his hand through his hair, pulling on the strands. “Set it up. Let Linus know when she’s free.” He heads toward my office door, buttoning his suit jacket with his head turned down, almost shaking as if he’s disappointed.

  “Hey, Bram. Wait.”

  He stops at the door but doesn’t turn around.

  “What’s going on? I thought this is what you wanted.”

  He lets out a deep sigh and partially faces me, his face devoid of that cocky grin I love to hate. “You’re right, this is what I want. Set up the date. I look forward to meeting Tabitha.”

  He tries to retreat again but I place my hand on his arm, holding him in place. “If I did something wrong, please let me know. You seem angry with me.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll let you know how the date goes. Night, Julia.”

  And with that, he leaves, striding down the hallway while pulling his phone from his jacket pocket.

  He’s not fine. Bram is cocky, brash, extroverted . . . not surly. Ill-tempered. But that’s not what’s really causing me concern. It’s how he left.

  Night, Julia.

  Julia. Not Jules. It almost feels like a slap in the face.

  What the hell do I do now?

  Chapter Fourteen

  BRAM

  “I hate everything about this,” I groan, swapping out my dress shirt for a sweater.

  Roark is bouncing on my bed, acting like a fucking teenage girl watching her best friend get ready for a date, but instead of twirling his hair and asking me questions about my date, he’s guzzling a beer and burping out the alphabet.

  “C, D, E.”

  “Will you stop it with that shit? Christ, man. I don’t need your belching tonight.”

  “A little high-strung?” He settles on the end of the bed and stares at my outfit.

  “Just annoyed.” I pull down my sweater and situate it around my waist, adjusting the sleeves around my bulky shoulders. “Instead of going out with Julia, I’m stuck taking some girl named Tabitha out to dinner.”

  “Tabitha sounds like a sexy name. What does she look like?”

  I shrug. “I have no fucking idea. When Julia showed me the profiles, I barely focused on them as rage started to consume me.”

  “Do you even have room to be mad? Did you ask Julia out?”

  “I didn’t get a fucking chance before she started throwing profiles in my direction. I was kind of hoping we could have talked about the other night, you know, the one you interrupted.”

  He laughs. “One of my finer moments.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  “Hey now, I think you need to take a step back and breathe for a goddamn second. You’re way too volatile right now.”

  “Because I’m going out with a girl I care nothing about. Because the girl I want to go out with thinks I’m looking for love with someone else when in fact, I’m looking for her. I’m going to have to fake my way through this night, pretend like I’m having a good time so I don’t break this girl, and then figure out a way to show Julia I care for her, which I thought I already had. I mean, what else do I have to fucking do? I sent her thoughtful gifts, I’ve made time for her, I’ve sent her many texts letting her know I’m thinking about her, and Jesus Christ, I almost kissed her. What else do I have to do? Draw a road map to my goddamn heart and give it to her?”

  Does she really have no clue? Does she really have no idea why I was angry? Why I stormed out? How the fuck does she not know?

  Roark stares blankly at me, beer halfway to his mouth. “A roadmap to your heart? Where the hell are you getting this crap from?”

  I push up the sleeves to my sweater. “I read a few articles on dating.”

  “Were they called dating for pussies?”

  I point at him. “That’s offensive. It’s called being fucking romantic.”

  “Do you know what’s romantic?” Roark leans back on one hand, pressing his palm into my mattress. “Telling the girl you like that you actually like her. Now that’s being romantic, and there’s no confusion where your feelings are concerned.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”
/>   “Because you know what happened at that party.” I look in the mirror and try to tame my blond hair to the side.

  “Are you talking about the end of the semester frat party?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That was fucking ages ago and you never said what happened, just that you fucked up and to inform you if Rath ever said anything about his sister.”

  “That night has been burned into my brain. I made my move then, she turned me down, and now I feel like I have to do so much more than just tell her how I feel.”

  “What happened?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not going to get into that right now, too long of a story.”

  “So what are you going to do? Go on this date? Lead this girl on?”

  “No.” I lift my arm and make a few swipes of my deodorant stick under my sweatshirt and then switch to the other arm. “I’m going to be polite and end the night with no expectations.”

  “And that’s fair?”

  I level with Roark. “Life isn’t fucking fair, believe me. If it was, I would not have purposefully lost a bet with you assholes to spend time with Julia only to have her set me up with someone else. If life was fair, we would already be together.”

  There is a pinch in Roark’s brow as his eyes narrow in on me. “You purposefully lost the bet?”

  I give him a get real look. “Only an idiot benches Russell Wilson, that or someone trying to lose.”

  “I fucking knew it.” Roark jumps off the bed and punches me in the arm. “You realize the kind of crap I have to hear anytime I’m near Rath about how he’s the fantasy football magician? The idiot got lucky one week and is now holding it over my head. If you hadn’t benched Russell, my life would be a hell of a lot easier.”

  I pat his shoulder and smirk. “Just call it karma for cock blocking me the other night. Instead of being a jackass, next time think about the consequences.”

  I start to walk away as Roark calls out, “I hope Tabitha tries to kiss you tonight. I hope she’s a fucking clinger and you can’t shake her off.”