The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister

by Quinn, Meghan

“We’re not a match, Clarissa.” She’s quiet, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. “I have to go.”

  “Wait,” Clarissa shouts. “Julia, before you do anything, just think about it, okay? Don’t do anything rash.” I never do, which is part of the predicament I’m in now. Was I rash with Bram?

  “Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up before she can say anything and thread my hands through my hair.

  This is going to be fine, everything is going to be okay. So what? He’s a red, and I’m a green. That doesn’t mean anything, except . . . it means everything and brings forth my biggest fear, the fear that’s been nagging at me since the moment I pressed my lips against his: what if everything between Bram and me has only been purely lust? What if it was a short-lived second with a man who’s supposed to be a friend?

  What if the past few weeks have been a farce, and really we’re setting ourselves up for failure?

  Hell . . . if he’s a red and I’m a green, I know for certain we’ll fail. I know this. I’m not right for Bram. He wants me to be in the moment, but what if I’m truly incapable? I’ve tried, but what happens when I no longer succeed? Maybe your beautiful head has prevented your heart from beating to its full potential. Let your heart beat . . . for me.

  What if I can never do that?

  I will lose him. Forever.

  * * *

  Bram: Please tell me you’re safe, that maybe you forgot to text me, but that you’re not kidnapped and stuffed away in the back of someone’s car.

  Julia: Sorry. Long day. At my apartment.

  Bram: Uh, I thought you were coming here?

  Julia: Wasn’t in the best headspace. I didn’t want to bother you.

  Bram: You’re never bothering me, Jules. I just want to hold you.

  Julia: Maybe another night. I’m going to try to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later.

  Bram: . . . okay. I miss you.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  BRAM

  “What the hell is going on with your sister?” I plow through Rath’s door and head straight to his fridge where I open a beer and start guzzling it.

  “Come in, help yourself to a drink, it’s not like I have company.”

  Oh shit. I tip my bottle down and look to the side where I see a woman on his couch. She gives me a little wave and takes a sip from her glass of wine.

  I give her a curt wave and say, “This will only take a second. Sorry.” I set the bottle on the counter and grab Rath by the arm, bringing him toward his entryway to gain some privacy.

  Once I have Rath’s full attention, I ask him again, “What the hell is going on with your sister?”

  “I don’t know, man. I haven’t talked to her in a while.” He pulls on the back of his neck and looks back at the girl. “I really don’t want to be in the middle of you two.”

  “I don’t want you to be either, that’s why I need you to help me figure this out so I can fix it.” I tap his cheek, giving him a pat-pat so he focuses back on me. “Come on, you know her better than I do. Does she usually avoid her boyfriends like the plague?”

  “You should know her just as well as I do, so you should be able to answer your own damn question.”

  “This is different. I’m a neurotic boyfriend now. I need you to help me steer away from crazy and see the light of reality. As your best friend, this is what you’re responsible for.”

  “What about Roark? Can’t he help you?” I give Rath a look. “Okay, yeah, bad idea.” He lets out a long sigh. “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”

  I hunker down and lay out the facts. “She’s been avoiding me. At first I thought it was because she was really busy at work, which she is, but the other night I told her I didn’t care what time it was, I just wanted to see her. She didn’t show up. When I asked her what happened, she said she wasn’t in the right headspace.”

  “Which is something that happens to her.”

  “Exactly, I know this about Julia. But then the last two days when I’ve gone to her office, her assistant told me she didn’t have time to see me. Do you think I went to her apartment?”

  “Of course you did.”

  “I did.” I poke Rath in the chest. “And guess what, she wasn’t home, which leads me to believe she’s avoiding me. I mean, where could she be?” I lean forward and point to the girl on the couch. “That isn’t Julia in disguise, is it?”

  Rath bats my hand away. “Dude, you’re losing it. She’s probably with Clarissa.”

  “Ugh, Clarissa.” I shake my fist in the air. “I forgot about her. You’re right, but why would she be there? If she was there then she’s definitely avoiding me. Fuck.” I thrust my hand through my hair. “Why is she avoiding me?”

  “I don’t know. Did you say something stupid?”

  “No. And I don’t think a stupid comment would cause this. Do you think she met someone else? She’s had an influx of new clients. Maybe she found someone she thinks would be better suited for her. I know I’m kind of a dickhead, but I thought we were fucking great together.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. Julia is not one to have a wandering eye.” Rath scratches his chin. “Maybe—”

  Knock. Knock.

  Rath and I both turn our gazes toward the door and then back at each other. “If that’s Roark, I’m going to kill you both.” He swings the door open to a very startled Julia.

  “Jesus, Rath, did you have to open the door like that?” She looks to the side, taking me in. Her eyes widen and she slowly starts to back away.

  “Don’t you move another inch,” Rath says, pulling her in by the arm and placing her in front of me. “Talk to your boyfriend so I don’t have to anymore.” He slams the door. “I’m not going to be in the middle of this.”

  Finger raised, Julia asks, “Uh, actually, can I talk to you first, Rath?”

  “Yeah, and then after she talks to you, I want to talk to you to see what she says.” I turn my attention back to Julia and say, “And then I want to talk to you to go over what you talked to Rath about.”

  “And then can I talk to you, Rath, about everything they’re talking about? Seems interesting,” the female voice from the other room chimes in.

  Rath pulls on his hair, ready to blow a gasket. “No one is fucking talking to me beside Farrah in the other room. You two work your shit out. We’ll be on the balcony.”

  Without another word, he swoops into the living room and takes his guest outside, shutting me in the apartment alone with Julia.

  Slightly nervous, because the look in her eyes tells me I’m not going to be happy about her disappearing act. I stick my hands in my pockets and look at the ground.

  “So . . . how are you?”

  “Fine,” she answers meekly.

  “Business starting to slow down?”

  “Just a little.”

  Talk about an uncomfortable conversation. Julia hates small talk, and that’s exactly what this is, so instead of dragging it on even further . . .

  “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  She respects me enough not to lie as she nods her head. “Just a little.”

  “Did I do something stupid? Because I don’t think I did.”

  “Maybe we should go sit down.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Maybe we should go sit down is not the phrase you want to hear when your girlfriend has been avoiding you. It’s the start of a conversation that means the end. I didn’t see this coming. I can’t allow it to happen. She’s my world.

  We sit, and when I see tears form in her eyes, my heart claws up my throat and starts pounding in my ears.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sorry. I told you I was new at this shit—”

  “It’s not something you did, Bram.”

  “Is it . . . did you find someone else?”

  “What? No,” she says quickly, slightly insulted.

  “Then what’s going on?” I take her hand in mine and revel in the feel of her soft skin. �
��Fuck, Jules, I miss you. Just tell me what it is and we can get through this.”

  She looks away, her hand slipping from mine. “We can’t get through this.”

  “Why?”

  Silence falls between us as a tear falls down her cheek. With the pad of her thumb, she rubs it away before I have a chance to. Looking away, she finally says, “I took the test.”

  “What test?” And then it hits me. “Holy shit, are you pregnant?” Jesus Christ, I let out a sigh of relief. Is that what this is all about? “Babe, that’s amazing, I mean way ahead of plan, but Jesus, you’re pregnant.” I shout out to Rath. “She’s pregnant, man. You’re going to be an uncle.” I go to hug her, but she scoots away from me.

  “She’s what?” Rath pokes his head through the door.

  “I’m going to be a—”

  “I’m not pregnant. I didn’t mean that kind of test.”

  “Wait. What? So . . . you’re not pregnant?”

  “I’m not going to be an uncle?” Rath asks sounding disappointed.

  “No. I’m on birth control, remember?”

  “Yeah, but with strong swimmers, they can knock down that defense and with the way we’ve been—”

  “Watch how you finish that sentence,” Rath suggests.

  I wave at him. “Go back to your balcony.” I turn back to Julia, feeling deflated because holy fuck, it would be amazing if Julia was pregnant. Hell, I would propose tomorrow and be rid of all this awkward talk. “So what test did you take then?”

  “My dating test.”

  “Oh . . . haven’t you already taken that?”

  She shakes her head. “No, and the results weren’t good. I’m a”—she swallows hard—“I’m a green.”

  I have no idea what that means, because I honestly never paid attention to any of the dating results. I had one thing on my mind—winning Julia’s heart—so I simply blacked out the rest.

  I scoot closer. “Well, green is the color of money so that can’t be too bad, right?” I ask, sounding like a materialistic asshole, but when I’m uncomfortable, I say stupid shit.

  “It’s a great color to be, but not when your boyfriend is a red.”

  And then it all clicks.

  Julia Westin, the girl who calculates everything, the girl who has compartments for her compartments, the girl who has a reason for every action she makes, is worried our colors don’t match.

  “Pfft, who cares about that?”

  Her eyes narrow. Oops, wrong thing to say. See, I say stupid shit.

  “I care about that. My entire career has been based around the theory of perfectly matching dating hues. How could I possibly set aside the idea that my boyfriend is a red and I’m a green and think that’s okay?”

  “We would make a pretty Christmas card together, right?” I give her a winning smile.

  It doesn’t take.

  “Come on, Jules, what did I tell you about following your heart?”

  “You can follow your heart but in the end, there will be something that tears us apart. I mean”—she motions to her neck—“look at our initials. There is no couple out there who can get away with being BJ, and if we ever tried to get married and used our initials on our invitations, it would be BJS because your last name is Scott.” She shakes her head, her voice becoming hysterical. “No one wants to go to a wedding where BJs are the highlight of it all.” I almost laugh out loud at that one, because I would think it’s funny. But then I look at the distress written all over my beautiful girl’s face.

  This is crippling her.

  Us.

  But it can’t be that bad.

  “Julia, come on. People would find that funny.”

  She gives me a deathly glare. “I’m being serious, Bram.”

  “Really?” I squint. “Because it almost sounds like you’re being irrational.”

  “Irrational? How on earth am I being irrational?”

  “Because you’re basing your entire life happiness off a test.”

  “A test that has a ninety-nine percent success rate.”

  “Yeah, and a test that I didn’t even fill out correctly because it was so goddamn long and stupid . . .” My words fade off as I see the anger start to rise in her eyes.

  Standing, looking more pissed then I’ve ever seen her, she says, “What did you just say?”

  I stand as well, because it seems like the thing to do. “You know, maybe we should grab a drink, cool off—”

  “You called my test stupid.”

  Yup, not the best choice of words.

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Then how did you mean it?”

  Hmm . . . good question. And as I stand here, trying to think of something different to say, I realize with each passing second that I’m digging my hole deeper and deeper. There is no getting out of this unscathed. Might as well go all in.

  “I might not have taken your test seriously.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She paces the living room. “How could you do that?”

  “Uh, I don’t know? Maybe because the questions were asinine.”

  She whips her head in my direction. “Excuse me?”

  “Oh come on, Julia. How the hell is someone supposed to answer a question like what kind of sound does a pig make when the answers are beep, beep; pew, pew; boom, boom, shaboom; and suck my ass.”

  “One of the answers was not suck my ass,” she responds sternly.

  I throw my hands to the side. “Might as well have been. It would have fit right in.”

  “I knew this was going to happen.” She shakes her head and gathers her purse. “Someone who so easily insults and mocks my life’s work isn’t the type of person I want to be with.” She gets choked up. “I’ve worked countless hours, years, on this program, and you treated it like some giant joke. Is that what this entire thing has been to you? A joke?”

  “No.” Frustrated with myself, I sift both hands through my hair. “That’s not what . . . Fuck, what I’m trying to tell you is I’m not a red. Who knows what the hell color I am?”

  “Well, I don’t care to find out.” She storms toward the door and I walk quickly behind her.

  “So that’s it? Because I possibly don’t match your dating hue, you’re going to throw the last few weeks away, as if none of it mattered to you? What about the last ten years? All the late nights we spent together, the conversations, the heart to hearts. Does that not matter in your dating metric? What about the fact that I’m hopelessly in love with you, to the point that if you walk out that door without me next to you, I don’t think I’ll survive the heartbreak. Doesn’t that matter?”

  She pauses in her pursuit for the door and turns toward me. “You can’t say that you love me.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Because”—she steps up to me—“no man who loves me would make fun of my dating program or treat it as a joke. If you truly loved me, then you would know how important the program is to me.”

  The door to the balcony opens and I feel Rath and his friend enter the living room, but they keep their distance.

  “Oh, believe me, Julia,” I sneer, “I know how important this program is. Important enough for you to throw away everything we have.” I grip the back of my neck, anger consuming me. “Hell, I don’t know what else you’re looking for in a boyfriend, but I pursued you, Julia. I listened to you, thrived on your every damn word, pushed your limits in the best way possible. I’ve tried to be kind, thoughtful, and a fucking fantastic lover. Every part of how I’ve loved you has been about you, because that’s what my girl deserves. I might never be more than a washed-up frat boy who happened to strike it rich and therefore not the man you think you should end up with, but at least I’m not a deadbeat who couldn’t care less about you or your career.”

  I push past her, wanting to be the one who leaves, needing to be the one who ends this conversation.

  I grip the door and keep my back turned toward her as I say, “In case you forgot, I asked you o
ut in college and got turned down. I then waited years until you were happy with the success of your career until I approached you again. If anything, that shows respect, not mockery.”

  Heart splitting in half, I walk out the door and head to the nearest bar, Roark on speed dial.

  I need to get drunk.

  * * *

  “Will you put your fucking phone down? Jesus Christ. You asked me to drink, so I’m here to drink, not watch you check your phone every two seconds.”

  He’s right. I pocket my phone and lean on the bar, defeat in my shoulders.

  “Sorry. I just, I don’t know, I thought that maybe she would have come to her senses by now.”

  Roark laughs. “Julia Westin come to her senses? Please, that woman is just as stubborn as her brother. There is no way she’s going to come crawling back to you, not unless you give her a good reason to.”

  Fuck, he’s right.

  I love her so goddamn much, but I will say this, she’s as stubborn as a mule. Always has been.

  “Why do you have to be right?”

  “I’m being sensible. You’re mad at her, but you still want her.”

  “I still love her,” I correct him, downing the rest of my drink and asking for another with a quick flick of my wrist.

  “Then you have to make a move.”

  I shake my head. “I can speak to her about my feelings until I’m blue in the face, but it’s not going to do anything. If she hasn’t messaged or called after my little speech in Rath’s apartment, nothing I say now is going to change her mind.”

  “I didn’t mean to talk to her. I meant you need to make a gesture.”

  “No romantic gesture is going to fix this.” That’s not Julia. And it’s not a fault by any stretch of the imagination. I fucking love her intelligence and drive. She wouldn’t be who she is today without that.

  Roark smiles over his tumbler and wiggles his eyebrows. “I can think of one thing that will work.”

  “There is no way sex will solve this.”

  “I wasn’t talking about sex, you idiot. What did this stupid fight stem from?”

  I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair, grateful for the backs on the bar stools. “You know where it stemmed from, our dating colors not being compatible.”