Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
“Someone I should meet? Who?”
“A girl.”
Drew is basting the Styrofoam ball in his hands with a glue stick, which isn’t going to work—literally at all—for whatever project he’s working on in the kitchen. Probably making a model of an atom or some bullshit.
“You have a girl you think I should meet?” His thick brows are raised the same way mine go up when I’m skeptical about something. “Where did you meet her?”
Er.
So.
“I have two choices. I can lie, or I can tell the truth, only one of which you’re gonna react favorably to.”
My brother rolls his eyes. “Why would I choose the lyin’ option, you dumbfuck?”
Dumb fuck = the most underrated curse combination of all time.
“I met her on a dating app.”
“Oh.” His shoulders seem to sag in relief. “Why would you have to lie about that?”
“Er. ’Cause it’s your dating app.”
Drew laughs. “I don’t have a dating app.”
“I mean, not technically—not on your phone, you don’t. But I have a dating app on mine.”
His name.
His profile.
His information.
“So you were swiping and found someone you thought I’d crack on with?”
“Mostly?”
“What does that mean—mostly?” His eyes never leave my face. “And when did you download the dating app?”
He still hasn’t connected the dots.
“The night you told me you didn’t want to meet someone through a dating app?”
I add a nervous laugh to the end of the sentence to punctuate it.
“Dude.” He pauses. “Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”
I nod. “’Kay. I won’t.”
“Drake.” He isn’t satisfied with that reply either. “Did you put me on a dating app?”
“Yes?”
“Drake, what the fuck! What did I tell you?”
“I don’t remember.”
Drew laughs, but it’s not a ha ha you’re being funny laugh—this one is full of ire and is sardonic. “Your god complex is seriously startin’ to become an issue.”
“My god complex?”
“Yes. You think you can do what you want, when you want. I told you no, and you went behind my back and did it anyway because you always have to get your way.”
Hmmm.
That’s probably true. “I wouldn’t call it a god complex. And I don’t think you’re better than I am. I just know what’s best—as an outsider looking in.”
I grin.
He frowns. “Fine. Let’s call it a ‘superiority complex.’” Drew uses air quotes. “The twin who always gets his way.”
I listen to him rant, unfazed by his outburst, following him into the kitchen when he tries to get away from me, aka escape. As the more outspoken brother, I am undeterred.
“Listen, bro, you’re never going to meet someone organically. You’re just not.” He’s tried, and it’s not working.
His picker is off, and he needs my help.
Me, my help. The guy who hasn’t had a girlfriend but once back in high school and—oh wait, that wasn’t me, that was Drew.
Ha ha.
“I have no idea what your issue is with me askin’ girls out who I meet in the cafeteria. How organic could I possibly be?”
Gross.
He’s asking girls on dates that he meets in the cafeteria?
How did I not know this?
How tacky!
It’s like shitting where you eat.
“I didn’t realize you treated the cafeteria like a pickup joint.” The same way I view the bars or nightclubs. Yeah, I’m there to drink and have fun, but I’m also there to find someone to go home with.
“It’s not a pickup joint. And that was mostly a metaphor. I meet them other places too. Like the library and the you know—around.”
Around? We don’t hang out anywhere but the stadium, the cafeteria, or the gym.
“The rub is that those girls are athletes too. So if something goes south and the two of you don’t work out, you have to walk past that chick holdin’ your tray of burgers and fries and not make eye contact.”
See, the thing is, much as I hate to admit it, we athletes get treated different than the average college student, getting to eat in our own special cafeteria that’s actually inside the football stadium. They have better food there and a more expensive, state-of-the-art facility.
Yesterday, I had shrimp scampi and lobster for lunch. I don’t know what they’re eating in the campus cafeteria, but I reckon it’s Cap’n Crunch cereal mixed with ice cream and not the steak filet I plan on having tomorrow.
How fucking delicious does that shit sound?
Anywho, apparently Drew be scamming in the café, literally the last place I’d chat up a chick.
WHATEVER.
He doesn’t want me to judge him? Fine, I won’t judge him.
But I will try to help him, and apparently, he doesn’t know what he needs the way I know what he needs.
“As I was saying before you rudely interrupted. I think you should meet this girl. She’s cool.”
“Cool?” He squints at me. “When have you ever called a girl cool?”
“Since never. Which is my point, and for the record, she’s in one of your classes, too.”