He steps into the bathroom and leans against the doorjamb. “I came to check up on you. You’ve stopped responding to the gifts I’ve been sending to your office, reminding you of your loss.”
“The basket of lube was uncalled for.” He laughs, his head tilted back. “Don’t you have better things to spend your money on?”
“Your embarrassment is worth it. What about the book on Dating for Dummies and the cock ring?”
“Linus was bright fucking red when he brought that into my office. You embarrassed the poor guy. I ended up giving him a gift card to a spa day to make it up to him. I told you not to fuck around with my assistant. I can’t lose him.”
“I’m going to poach him one day. You know my assistant sucks ass—literately and figuratively.”
Growing serious, I turn toward Rath, my finger in his face. “You stay away from my Linus, or I swear to God I will cut your balls off and shove them down your throat. Linus is mine.”
Rath chuckles. “Calm down, man. You know I would never take Linus from you; you would be running around in a constant circle without him.”
“That’s right, don’t even look at him. You’re not allowed to lay eyes on him, ever.”
“You have issues.” Rath gives me a once-over and takes in my outfit, the one Julia picked out. “Do you have plans?”
I nod and forget about shaving. There’s no need when I really don’t care.
Empty tumbler in hand, I push past Rath and make my way to my bar, my friend following closely behind.
“I have a date tonight, one that your sister set up for me.”
“Really?” I want to spin around and punch Rath right between the eyes from hearing his excitement. “You’re actually going on dates? You found out what color you are?”
“Yeah.” The sound of my Scotch bottle opening is music to my ears.
“So, what are you? Blue or green, right?”
I pour a glass for the both of us. “No, red.”
When I hand Rath his glass, he gives me a strange look. “Red? How the hell did you turn out to be red?”
I shrug, “I don’t know, maybe because I randomly filled in bubbles after the first fifteen questions. You were there; we tried to make a pattern.”
“Oh yeah.” He winces. “Hell, I didn’t think about it screwing up your test results. There’s no way in hell you’re a red, man. Shit, Julia must be having a hard time setting you up.”
“I can be a red,” I answer, taking a sip of my Scotch, not knowing what a red is because I didn’t take the time to look over my pamphlet.
And before you think I’m a dick for not caring about the program, let me set you straight. I know Julia’s program is incredible, but given how I feel about Julia, it’s completely redundant. To me.
“You’re so not a red. You care too much.”
“If I cared would I be drinking before my date?” I take another sip from my tumbler.
“That is weird. Why are you drinking?”
Because your sister thinks I want to date random strangers and has failed to pick up on any of the clues I’ve tossed her way.
“Because I don’t give a fuck,” I answer, arms spread. “I’m going with the mentality of giving zero fucks, trying to see where that gets me.”
“Probably a slap to the face and more wine up your nose.”
I groan. “Why the fuck do I tell Roark anything?”
Laughing, Rath says, “But, dude, dragons are real.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I drag my hand over my face as Rath continues to chuckle. “That was your sister’s fault.”
“Hey, it was a slip-up, just like those nip slips you kept getting.”
I point at him with the hand holding my tumbler. “The first slip was hot, the fourth was fucking terrifying as she practically breathed hot fire down my neck from my inability to comprehend real-life dragons.”
“You should have shown her a picture of a lizard and told her they do still exist, but just got shrunk by Wayne Szalinki’s shrink ray.”
“Oddly enough, I think she would have believed me.”
“Shit, that’s good.” Rath laughs and takes a sip of his drink. “So who’s the girl tonight? Does she look promising?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. I just hope she keeps her crazy to herself.”
* * *
Gorgeous, check.
Smart, check.
Not crazy, double check.
Is she Julia? Big fat no.
I have to admit, Carly is a real fucking winner, almost perfect actually. She’s sexy, intelligent, can hold a conversation, and has yet to let any of her crazy show. And when she got up to go to the bathroom, she peeked over her shoulder to see if I was checking her out.
And hell, I was.
But it all fell flat, not one ounce of excitement jolted me awake.
I’ve come to the conclusion that Julia has broken me.
I’m an empty shell of a man, walking around in the dating world, looking for that one woman to show up and make me feel whole again.
I can picture it in my head, lonely and pathetic Bram Scott, holding up a sign that reads, “Belongs to Julia. Please return.” And yet, Julia is completely blind to the sign, as if it’s written in invisible ink.
“Would you like any dessert?” the waiter asks.
Carly holds her stomach and shakes her head. “I couldn’t fit another thing in.”
“I’m good too.” I nod at the waiter. “But I could use another drink.” I hold up the empty tumbler I’ve nursed through dinner.
“Anything else for you, ma’am?”
Carly eyes her wine and says, “I’ll have one more small glass.”
Nodding, the waiter takes off, leaving me alone once again with this beautiful woman that I have no interest in ever seeing again.
“So you said you went to Yale?”
I nod. “Yup.”
“I went to a frat party there once. It was the best party I ever went to.”
“Yeah?” I perk up. “Was it Alpha Phi Alpha?”
“I don’t remember. But it was in a giant stone house with this grand entryway and a curved staircase.”
I smile knowingly. “That’s my fraternity. And you graduated the same time. I wonder if we saw each other and didn’t even know it.”
“Wow, what a small world. Although, I think I would have remembered you.”
“Nah, I blended in with all the drunk idiots.” The waiter returns with our drinks that we both take sips of at the same time. “What were you doing at Yale?”
“My friend had some crush on a guy there and was trying to get his attention. I told her she couldn’t go by herself to a frat party, so I went with her. We ended up sleeping in her car that night and then driving home the next morning with the worst hangovers of our lives. No amount of Dunkin’ Donuts could help us.”
I chuckle and set my Scotch down. “That’s because Dunkin’ Donuts isn’t hangover material. McDonald’s hash browns are where it’s at. When we were seniors, we made the freshman go through the drive-thru and get everyone breakfast. It was one of the perks of being an upperclassman.”
“Ugh, you’re so right. A donut and a hangover don’t mix.”
“Not even a little.” I smile at her, wondering what life would be like if I wasn’t hung up on Julia. Rath believes I’m not a red, so theoretically, I wouldn’t be interested in Carly anyway. This feels wrong to be here with her. Dishonest somehow.
“Are you okay? You keep looking off into the distance, as if you’re contemplating something.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, hating that I’ve been caught. “Just some things on my mind.”
She bites her bottom lip and looks to the side. “Things on your mind, or another girl on your mind?”
Well, you can mark blunt on her dating résumé.
“What do you mean?” I act cool.
“You don’t need to try to tiptoe around it. You have that look.”
“What look?” I nervously bounce my foot under
the table.
She motions to my face. “That forlorn look, like you’re missing something in your life. I know it well, it’s the same kind of look I’ve been wearing lately.”
Huh?
“Care to explain?” I sip my Scotch and watch her closely as her shoulders sag and the perfectly fun girl I’ve been spending the night with quickly morphs into someone else, almost a mirror image of myself.
“The only reason I’m about to tell you this is because even though I’ve had a great time tonight, it feels like there isn’t going to be a second date.” I go to say something when she stops me. “And that’s okay, because I don’t think I would have gone on a second one.” Well, she’s fucking rude. “But it’s not because of you. I just . . . hell, I went out on a date with a guy Julia set me up with two weeks ago, and I had the best time ever. He was perfect, my absolute dream guy.”
Why does this feel like a direct insult to me? Maybe I’ve been drinking too much. I’m feeling too goddamn sensitive.
“What happened?”
“We ended the night on a good note and we actually text that night and the next day. We were setting up plans for a second date when he had to cancel.”
“Why?”
She sighs. “His daughter wasn’t ready for him to start dating. He’s been divorced for a year, has primary custody of his daughter, and she’s very protective of him. She told him she doesn’t want him to get hurt again like her mom hurt him. So he said he needed time and wasn’t sure how long it would take.”
“But you like him.”
She nods. “A lot. I thought I could do this, go on this date and try to forget him, but I can’t seem to get him out of my mind no matter how hard I try. I’m so sorry, Bram.”
“Don’t sweat it. Your assumption isn’t too far off. I’m kind of caught up on someone else too.”
“Really? What’s holding you back?”
“She has no idea I like her.” I feel so stupid talking about this with a stranger, but the booze is flowing and my lips are loose. “And it’s not from lack of trying. Hell, I’ve done everything in the book besides forcing her to stare at me as I tell her word for word that I’m crazy about her.”
“Then why not do that?” Carly asks. “Why not march up to her home right now and tell her, point-blank, ‘I want to date you’?”
“Eh, because I already tried asking her out years ago and it went horribly wrong.”
“How many years ago?”
“College.” I wince.
Carly presses her lips together. “Please, and you were in a fraternity? I probably would have said no as well. It’s been years since then. I’m sure you’ve matured, so there can’t possibly be a reason for her to say no now.”
“There might be.”
“Like what?”
“Like . . .” I bite my bottom lip. “She’s my best friend’s little sister.”
In slow motion, Carly’s lips start to tilt up and her hands clasp in front of her chest. “Oh my God, that’s so freaking cute. You have to tell her you like her now. That’s the perfect love story, falling in love with your best friend’s sister. I feel like my heart can’t take it.”
I scratch the side of my jaw, my five o’clock shadow bristling along my nails. “You really think I should tell her?”
“Hell yeah. How about this: I tell my guy I still want to see him and I’ll wait until his daughter is ready, and you go and tell your girl you want her?”
“Just like that?”
She slowly nods. “Yup, go straight to her apartment, knock on her door, and when she opens it, don’t give her an option to say anything, just capture her mouth with yours and then let the rest be history.”
My mind starts turning, my brain coming up with all different kinds of scenarios I can surprise Julia.
“Come on, shake on it.” Carly lends out her hand. “We both go for it tonight, take this dating scene by the horns and make it our bitch.”
I laugh, feeling more and more confident by the second. I can totally do this. Just walk up to Julia and tell her point-blank I want to date her.
Simple.
“Okay.” I shake Carly’s hand. “Let’s do this.”
“Eek.” She claps and then says, “Hand me your phone. I want to give you my number, because we’re going to have to follow up with each other. I want to know how this mystery girl pans out.” I hand her my phone. “Promise me you’ll update me?”
“Only if you do the same.”
“Promise.”
Outside of the restaurant, I call her a taxi and we part ways with a hug and a promise to stay in touch.
And that’s how I find myself outside of Julia’s apartment, slightly tipsy, with a giant knot in my stomach. Just tell her the truth, tell her how you feel, point-blank.
No more tiptoeing around the truth.
No more letting her guess the way I feel.
No more random dates where all I think about is the girl who wears glasses and tube socks.
This is it.
I grip the edge of her doorframe and stare at the gold number six nailed to her red door. I can do this. I take a deep breath and rap my knuckles against the solid wood.
Crowding the entryway, hanging on to the molding for support, my head is lowered, waiting for her to open, to greet me with that cute smile of hers.
The floorboards creak.
A ball of nerves twists and turns in my stomach.
The door unlocks.
My stomach drops.
She appears on the other side, confusion spread across the small crinkle of her brow. I take her in. Long white shirt, hair tied into a bun on the top of her head, a small amount of what seems to be cookie crumbs on the corner of her mouth and . . . fuck . . . tube socks.
I’m enamored.
I want her . . . bad.
And I’m going to make her mine by the end of the night.
“Bram?” She gives me a once-over, taking in the outfit she picked, the one she thinks I’m sexiest in. “What are you doing here?”
Chapter Eighteen
JULIA
Sophomore year, Yale University
“How many drinks have you had?” Clarissa asks, sidestepping back and forth to the beat blasting through the speakers. Why are Ne-Yo songs so catchy? They get me to dance every time. Embarrassing.
I tilt my red Solo cup and look at its contents. “Uh, half a beer.”
“What? I thought you said you were going to let loose tonight? It’s the end of the semester, so it’s time to relax.”
“I just feel weird drinking at my brother’s frat house.”
“Why? Isn’t that what frat houses are for? For partying?”
“I think they’re here to form a brotherhood so that later on, down the road—”
“Hey beautiful, want to dance?” Josh Fanning, a sophomore who has been known to rival Roark McCool in the beer Olympics, loops his arm around Clarissa.
Being the boy-crazed girl that she is, Clarissa spins in his arms and wraps her arms around his neck. “Are you going to grind me or stand there and stare at my breasts? I need to be able to make an accurate judgment of your dancing technique before I commit to three sweaty, body-undulating minutes with you.” Did I mention she’s studying to be a lawyer and never jumps into anything without some rational thought? Even after a few drinks, she’s practicing smart decision-making. I’m oddly proud of her.
“I’m going to grind my big fat cock into your backside,” he replies while lowering his hands to her ass.
Ew.
Ugh, Josh, big fat cock is so not a sexy term, at least in my opinion.
“Then it’s a date,” Clarissa announces with excitement. At least I thought she was practicing smart decision-making. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she calls over her shoulder while twiddling her fingers at me.
Well, what the hell do I do now?
The house is overflowing with students celebrating the end of the semester. Raucous behavior you would never
expect from future politicians and doctors takes place behind these sacred walls. The one good thing about Alpha Phi Alpha is their strict no-camera/no-phone policy. They confiscate all recording devices before you walk through the doors, kind of like a coat check but for electronics. It’s smart, because these guys know they’re going places after college and don’t want evidence of their partying days to be spread around.
And boy, do they know how to party.
From the corner of the house, I take in the crowd. The dance floor is off to the left in the grand room, the drinks are served in the kitchen by freshman vying for a spot in the house next year, and then there is the den, which is the make-out room. If you’re into heavy petting and a giant orgy of lip locking, that’s where you want to be.
I don’t go near that room; the atmosphere is heady with sexual tension and dry-humping.
Instead, I keep to the common space, occasionally being bumped by someone passing through, never earning an apology.
I’m invisible at these parties, although, I keep it that way deliberately. I don’t trust any of these guys, because Rath made it quite clear what their intentions are: hookups. Rath has lectured to me many times about coming to his parties. He doesn’t mind me coming—he actually likes it because he knows nothing bad will happen to me since he’s there to protect me—but he’s also made me quite aware that every guy in the fraternity has one thing on their mind at their parties: sex.
This may sound crazy, but I’m not a one-night-stand girl. You’re shocked, I know. I’ve never had that sexual gene tempting me to throw caution to the wind and jump in a bed with a random guy. I need the romance, the possibility of a deeper connection.
“Where’s Clarissa?” Rath’s voice comes up behind me. Ever since I told him what happened last week, when Bram came to my rescue, he’s been hovering over me every chance he gets. To say he was ready to crack that guy’s skull is an understatement. I’m no longer allowed to be alone anywhere on campus. That’s not going to last long, trust me. I won’t let it.
With his glassy eyes, the lazy smile on his face, and a waiver to his stance, I chuckle inwardly. He’s drunk and what’s the best part about Rath being drunk is that he always tries to act like he isn’t.
The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister Page 16