My brother’s best friend.
The first male human I met who wasn’t genetically related to me.
I’ve been calling him Johnny B. Nerdballs since I was old enough to know that he and my brother were nerds. I was in kindergarten. They were nine. I’d had a secret, inexplicable crush on him since I was probably ten days old. Until I was old enough to realize he may be a genius in one sense, but he’s too dumb to like me the way I deserve to be liked. And so I moved on. Hard and fast.
Johnny B. Nerdballs, when did you get hot?
“You didn’t recognize me?” he asks. He seems genuinely surprised. As if he doesn’t know he went from adorkable to Adonis since I last saw him.
“You look…different.” I shift my stance, both feet flat on the ground, as if on some level I’m afraid of being knocked over. I don’t make a move to hug him because I can’t think of one time we’ve ever hugged each other.
“Right. Well. I finally started taking better care of myself.”
Amen.
You sure did.
Growing up, I saw Johnny’s face nearly as often as I saw my brother’s, but he is almost unrecognizable. He’s not wearing glasses, which is significant. Being able to look into his intensely inquisitive eyes straight on is…unnerving. Getting a full view of his cheekbones is disarming. Gone are the anemic complexion, the dark circles, the layer of puffiness beneath his skin. He has the golden glow, toned skin, and confident posture of the very rich. And he is—very rich. I don’t know the details, but he’s atech founder and entrepreneur. He started something and then sold something for a lot of money to some big corporation. Or something.
My parents and my brother have spoken of him and his success a great deal whenever I visit them, but I’m so dance obsessed, I’ve never taken the time to look him up. I could tell you everything you need to know about Baryshnikov or Misty Copeland, but all I can say about Johnny is that he seems to have become exactly as awesome as he always believed he would—on a global scale.
I was very happy to hear of his good fortune, but it somehow never occurred to me that we’d cross paths again, even though I knew he was based in Palo Alto. He wasn’t exactly supportive of my decision to become a professional dancer, so I wasn’t eager to get in touch.
Seeing him now, I’m feeling homesick.
Seeing him now, I realize I’ve missed him.
Seeing him now, I remember why I had that weird little crush on him.
He looks at me like no one else ever has—like he’s trying to understand me. Like he’s Matt Damon and I’m a math equation on a chalkboard when the MIT hallway is empty.
I’m sighing.
This won’t do. I turn that sigh into a cough. This absolutely will not do.I’mthe hot one. How dare he be so handsome?!
I adjust my posture, tap back into my goddess energy, find my voice, and casually ask, “What’s it been? Five years?”
“About six years, yes.”
“Right.” I haven’t seen him since he and my brother graduated from MIT. He could have skipped two grades when he was in middle school, but he wanted to stay in the same grade as Nathan so they could go to college together. Which is sweet. “So. How are you?”
“I had dinner with your brother a week ago—did he tell you?”
“No. Where? If he was in the Bay Area and didn’t see me, I’ll kill him.” Nathan lives in Chicago and claims to be allergic to the air on the West Coast.
“We were both in New York on business. I’m sure he’d let you know if he were in town. He’s quite fond of you.”
There’s no smirk or irony in his voice. He genuinely thinks I need to be told that my overprotective older brother is quite fond of me. What a dork. Or is it sweet? Or condescending? I can never tell with him.
“Did Nathan tell you I work here?”
No response. I know he heard me, but answering other people’s questions when they ask them has never been a high priority for him. What he says is “Question: Do you have a valid passport?”
Question: Have your lips always been so full?Growing up, that mouth was just a moving hole that annoying, confusing words came out of. Now I have to force myself not to imagine what it would feel like to be kissed all over with it.
I clearly need to get laid.
I definitely need to go to the gym and work out really hard.
