I clear my throat before turning back to him, composure back in place. “Such as?”
“I gave my cousin advice that prompted her reconciliation with her now girlfriend.”
“Your selling point is that you gave the girl I liked advice that made her get with someone else?”
“Okay, maybe that’s a bad example.” He grits his teeth. “I also told Andrew to go for it with Kayla. And look at them now! You’re his sister, you had to know how hopeless the guy was before my help.”
I’m not sure I’d describe Andrew as “hopeless.” If anything, that’s how my family would describeme. Much like Julian, my brother hasthe fear-of-commitment thing down pat. My parents have always believed that the right woman will help him outgrow it, and now that he’s with Kayla, they can’t spend thirty minutes in a room together without letting out an emphatic “I told you so.”
Me, on the other hand? If you asked my parents, they’d tell you I’m unfocused because I don’t have a steady partner to motivate me to get my life together. It’s not enough that I’m no longer living under their roof, have a full-time job,anda streaming career on the side. I’m older than Elena was when she got married and had her first kid, and therefore falling behind in comparison.
“Hopeless?”
“Oh yeah. You should’ve seen him try to strike up a conversation with Kayla before they got together. It wasn’t pretty,” he says, then cringes as if reliving it. “He looked like he was going to throw up the day he asked her out. If you see me flinch, it’s because I still haven’t fully recovered from the secondhand embarrassment.”
“I would pay an obscene amount of money to witness that for myself.”
If my brother was really as bad as Julian’s making it seem, maybe he has a point. I clearly can’t trust myself when it comes to picking who I date, so how much worse could he be? Damn, how am Ialreadyconsidering this? I barely know the guy.
“But we’re practically strangers,” I remind him. “You don’t know me, so how could you possibly know who I’m compatible with?”
“I know you like sushi and Italian food. I know you’re a gamer who’s forced to work as a substitute teacher despite being a librarian. You might bluff as a pessimistic pragmatist but really, you’re a romantic at heart.” For a moment, all I can do is gawk at him. Something about his pronouncement is making my heart beat abnormally fast. “I may have much to learn, but I’ve been paying attention.”
So it would seem.
“This might be the strangest offer I’ve ever gotten.” Thankfully, my voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I mean, seriously, who does this?”
“That’s not a no.” His smile grows. “Think about it. Let me know.”
On Monday, I get back home from the shittiest day of work I’ve ever had. A student not only fell asleep in my class, but when he woke up, he also had the audacity to take out a vape pen and hide the smoke by pulling his hoodie up over his mouth. As I stood for a moment, horrified, watching as the entire class laughed when this kid nearly coughed up a lung, I realized something.
Nothing matters.
Not to this kid, who didn’t bat an eye when I sent him down to the front office. Not to his friends, who laughed and cheered alongside him, who didn’t seem to care that he was about to be suspended, if not expelled. Not even to his mom, who didn’t so much as react when I recounted the story to her in detail over the phone on my lunch break.
I didn’t yell at or lecture the kid for smoking in class. It was as if all the energy had been sucked from my body, leaving me with nothing but the bare minimum. Write him up, send him to the office, call his mom. That’s as far as my job description goes. I didn’t even bother asking my neighboring teacher if I could borrow their Febreze, so the scent of weed lingered for the rest of the day despite leaving my windows open to air out the stuffy portable, and all I could do was pray the kids in my next periods wouldn’t develop a secondhand high.
I could quit, but then I wouldn’t have a stable paycheck or healthcare. I’d have to move back in with my parents and deal with the judgment that comes with it. I can practically hear my mother’s voice already.
How long do you expect your father and I to keep bailing you out?
A roof over my head is hardly nothing, but I resent the thoughtthatthey’rethe ones who bailed me out when I couldn’t find a job straight out of undergrad. I built my streaming platforms from the ground up when I lived at home, but my parents criticized me for playing video games for seven hours a day instead of job searching. I could’ve told them my inbox was full of rejections while my platforms were growing in viewership by the thousands each day, but in the end I waited until my accounts were eligible for monetization and I got my first sponsorship. To say they were less than impressed would be an understatement, but it paid for my school librarian certification and helped me move in with Bella before I landed a part-time gig.
But the real detriment to my mental health has always been the double standards and constant comparisons to my siblings that they’ve never let me live down. When I moved back home after graduation, I was a financial disappointment and physical burden taking up space in their house. When Andrew took an extra year to graduate after failing too many classes and ultimately switching his major, he was simply taking his time as he figured out his future. When I moved in with Bella, my parents worried my financial situation was too precarious to live on my own and that living with Bella’s daughter would hold me back from dating. When my brother moved in with Julian, it’s because Andrew wasn’t ready to leave his glory days of college behind. My brother’s reluctance to commit is something they’re sure he’ll outgrow any day now, but I’m practically a spinster at the ripe old age of twenty-six because I’ve never had a real relationship before.
God, what am I doing to myself? There’s only one way to make an already bad day worse, and that’s to start thinking about my parents. It’s why I leave the family group chat as often as I do. I’m only pulled out of my thoughts by the sight of Julian sitting outside our building, two iced coffees in hand.
“I was hoping I’d catch you.” He rises and hands me whatever’s in his right hand. A glance down at the label tells me it’s an AutumnMoon latte from my favorite coffee shop. “Heard about your day from Clarissa. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Well, at least it’s over.” I take a sip from the drink. It’sdelicious. I make a mental note to add it to my drink rotation before turning back to Julian. He’s everywhere, but that’s not a surprise. If I’m surprised about anything, it’s that we didn’t run into each other at school today. Only this time, the sight of him relieves the heavy weight of dread on my chest. Odd, that.
Would it really be so bad to let him take over my dating accounts? At least then I’d have someone to come home to after a shitty day of work. Someone to get my parents off my back about at least one area of my life, even. Just once, I’d love to not be seen as the hot mess child in their eyes. If Julian can help me get there, I’m not about to turn him down.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” His tone is smug, like he already knows what I’m about to say before I have a chance to say it. Knowing him, and I’ll admit I barely do, he probably does.
“Please don’t make me say it out loud.” I cover my face with a hand. I’m not sure what’s worse, admitting I need dating help or the fact that I’m coming toJulianof all people for it. A hand closes around my wrist, gently, like I’m something fragile. His skin is warm and dry, a thumb circling the vulnerable inside of my wrist. I feel the sensation in places I shouldn’t, and the urge to jerk away is almost palpable. But it also feels surprisingly…good.
“Fine.” I make a show of sighing, letting my hand fall away and breaking contact with his touch. “You can take over my dating accounts. As dubious as your help might be, it’s clear doing this on my own is getting me nowhere.”
