“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked, pushing my half-eaten chicken around the plate.
“Well, for starters, be yourself. And try not to act like she’s some puzzle you’re trying to solve.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Being myself has never exactly worked out in my favor.”
“How so?”
“Oh, you know—just Marissa reminding me regularly that I was emotionally stunted and too obsessed with school. That I was a shitty boyfriend who never made her feel like a priority.”
I took a drink of water, watching my hands shake as I set the glass back down on the table. I didn’t have the nerve to tell him she’d also said I was the worst fuck she’d ever had. No man wanted to admit out loud that he was lousy in bed. I was all for male bonding in a non-toxic way, but that was a bridge too far.
“But the thing is,” I said instead, “she wasn’t entirely wrong. Iwasmore interested in coding than going to parties … or whatever it was that she wanted from me.”
“That just means you two weren’t compatible.”
“Sure. And after the app blew up? The few women I tried dating expected some confident alpha tech bro. Instead, they got quiet, awkward me. One of them actually said, ‘You’re not what I expected,’ like I’d somehow catfished her by being exactly who I said I was.”
Nate was quiet for a moment. “Those women wanted theideaof you, not the actual you. That’s on them, not you.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m just fundamentally not what women want. You may have noticed that I am, what the kids call, a ‘short king.’” I stabbed at my chicken again. Rosa was going to give me an earful if I asked for it to go. “Hardly a Hemsworth.”
Nate snorted. “None of us are fucking Hemsworths, Luke.”
“No, but you’re certainly closer than I am.”
Despite being cousins, Nate had taken after his father’s side of the family—tall, broad-shouldered, and with the kind of presence that made people pay attention when he walked into a room. Meanwhile, I’d gotten my mother’s genes: compact build, fine features, the kind of guy who got mistaken for a college student well into his thirties. Put us side by side, and you’d never guess we were related.
“Fuck anyone who makes you feel bad about yourself,” Nate said, setting his fork down and crossing his arms over his broad chest.
“I don’t care about anyone, Nate. I only care about Holly. What if I try talking to her, and she shuts me down?”
“Then she’s not the right person for you either. But you won’t know unless you try.” Nate sighed and sat back, studying me. “Did sheseeminterested?”
I thought about the way Holly had looked at me in my kitchen. The way she’d laughed at my terrible sea holly joke. Then, the way her voice had gone soft when she said she liked it because it was a little weird and not too perfect. The way her eyes had connected with mine, it had certainlyfeltlike she might have been talking about me, too. Then again, it was entirely possible I’d misread everything.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe?”
“Maybe is better than no.” Nate pointed his fork at me. “Next time you see her,talkto her, Luke. Ask her about her work. What she’s doing for the holidays. What her favorite movie is. You know, normal conversation topics.”
Wehadtalked about those things. Well, not her plans for Christmas or her favorite movie. But I probably knew more about her work and how losing her shop had impacted her than most people did. And that hadn’t been an easy conversation—for her or for me.
“I can do that,” I said, my confidence increasing.
“Good. Because if you keep running away from her, eventually she’s going to think you’re a weirdo.”
“She already thinks I’m weird.”
“Okay. Weirder, then.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe “weird” didn’t have to be a dealbreaker. Maybe it could even be adifferentiator—something that set me apart instead of holding me back.
Because if there was one thing I understood, it was finding value in what others had overlooked.
three
. . .
Luke
