Awkward.

by Lily Kate

  “It was his idea?”

  “Come on,” I say with an eye roll. “I tried to convince him otherwise.”

  “I mean, it’s original. I kind of liked it.”

  “Me too. We did make an honest effort to cook it from scratch but...” I bob my head from side to side. “Let’s just say I’m down one pot and a bag of veggies.”

  She nods, watching me for a long moment. “How often do you and Dr. Darcy hang out?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, not a whole lot.” I shift in my seat, suddenly realizing that just about every story I’ve told her, except the ones from school, involve Jack. “Sunday nights we have dinner, but it’s nothing much. Just a habit from growing up together.”

  “You know I’m not interested in him, right? I think it’s pretty clear, so if we can move on, that’d be great.”

  I freeze as the timer beeps. Caroline stands with a flourish, heading to the kitchen without a backward glance. The sounds of her removing the cookies from the oven shatter the silence, followed by a fresh breath of air that’s bursting with gooey chocolate chips and barely crisped cookie edges.

  Caroline returns a moment later with a plate full of dessert and a stern look clouding her face. “Don’t make this awkward, Allie. You’re trying to set me up, and I have no idea why.”

  “What?”

  “You and I both know that I’m not interested in Dr. Darcy.” Caroline gives a polite smile and shakes her head. “He’s not my type.”

  “But—”

  “He’s not my type.”

  I pause for a moment and give a shake of my head. “Sorry, but what is your type, then? Jack is pretty much everything. He’s smart, he’s handsome, he’s financially secure, he’s a genuine, nice person, and—”

  “And he’s a man.”

  “Yes, exactly! He really is a man. He’d make for an excellent husband someday, I’m sure of it. We’re basically siblings.”

  “You don’t understand,” Caroline says with a half-smile. “He’s a man, therefore, he’s not my type.”

  “Oh. Oh. Oh, Caroline, I’m sorry—I didn’t realize...”

  She waves a hand and laughs. “I don’t make a habit of announcing it at the hospital. I don’t hide it either, if anyone asks.”

  “Oh. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have pushed Jack on you so much if I’d known.”

  “It’s fine!” Caroline laughs again and pushes the plate toward me. “Not the first time it’s happened. You should meet my mom. She’s still hoping I’ll change my mind or whatever shit she reads. She loves me, she just doesn’t get it.”

  I wince. “That’s not what I meant at all. I’m really—”

  “Girlfriend, you need to chill.” Caroline points to the tray on the table before me. “What I’m more concerned about is the fact that you think Dr. Darcy is like a brother to you.”

  “He is,” I tell her. “We grew up together. He looks at me like I’m his little sister or something.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I’m feeling nervous about her implication, so I grab a cookie and take a huge, boiling-hot bite. The chocolate chips have apparently turned to molten lava, and my eyes water as my taste buds die a slow and painful death. “Ow.”

  “Milk.” Caroline pushes a glass toward me.

  I bob my head in a thank-you, still in too much pain to speak.

  “Well, while you’re putting the fire out in your mouth, let me explain something.” Caroline breaks a cookie in half daintily, and then takes a smaller, more sensible bite. “Neither you nor Dr. Darcy look at one another like a sibling.”

  “I think you’re wrong.” I swallow. “With all due respect.”

  “I suppose that’s fair, but with even more due respect, you’re fucking wrong.” Caroline grins as I gulp down the rest of my milk. “Exhibit A: Men do not talk about their sisters around the clock. I have three brothers. I’ll bet you my yearly income that nobody at their workplace even knows I exist. Maybe if they listed me as an emergency contact on some form.”

  “But—”

  “Just believe me on that one. Dr. Darcy? Not so much. Everything is Allie this and Allie that. You’re all he talks about.” She gives me a meaningful stare. “He thinks you’re the funniest person to ever have lived. I’m not saying I disagree, but most men don’t rave about their sister for hours each day. If you’re interested in him, you should give him a sign.”

  “I have!”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Really? Because I’m almost certain he’d be jumping all over that invitation if you laid it on the table.”

  “I have in the past. Not recently because he’s made his feelings clear.”

  “How clear?”

  “I asked him out on a date.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know, a few years ago,” I say. “Very clearly. I told him I loved him and thought that maybe we should be a couple.”

  “And?”

  “And he said no.”

  “Just like that?” Caroline’s face is masked with disbelief. “He didn’t give you any explanation.”

  I give a slight shake of my head. “Nothing that made any sense.”

  “Nothing that made any sense.”

  I roll my eyes. “I know you think I probably am not making a lot of sense right now, but you have to trust me. You haven’t known Jack as long as I have.”

  “Maybe not, but...” She stands, leaving her sentence hanging. “I spotted Dr. Darcy carrying around a book on break the other day. I don’t mean to draw assumptions, but he’s never seemed to be the Pride and Prejudice type before this week.”

  “He actually brought the book?” I gape at her. “A real paperback book with pages between covers?”

  “Come with me.”

  Curiosity gets the better of me, and I leave the warm cookies behind as I follow Caroline out of the living room, past the kitchen, and into a little nook that might be used as a dining room.

  Instead of the typical dining room table and chairs, however, this space has been filled with overflowing bookshelves stacked floor to ceiling. A happy little antique desk sits nudged against a corner with a worn chair pushed against it. A small collection of teapots and teacups sits on the only shelf not lined with paperbacks, hard covers, or limited edition copies I’ve mostly seen online.

  “Wow,” I murmur, and the approval is clear as my fingers itch to run along the spines. “I had no idea you were one of us.”

  “One of us,” she says with a laugh. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. So, tell me: did you have anything to do with Dr. Darcy’s change in reading material? When I first started at the hospital, he read nothing but textbooks. For fun.”

  “I could tell you, but then he might kill you.”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “What? Oh, the books?” I lose track of the conversation as I find an old favorite on the shelf and lovingly remove it to read the back cover for the hundredth time. “I offered to teach Jack a few lessons.”

  “What sort of lessons?”

  “A Romance Academy of sorts.” I wrinkle my nose and reshelf the book as I realize how dumb it sounds. “Let’s just say Jack needs some practice being around women. You know, in a non-professional, romantic sort of way.”

  Caroline reaches for her nose, flinching as her fingers land along the bruises. “You don’t say.”

  “Exhibit A: Black and Blue,” I say, nodding at her face. “I don’t know what it is with him. He’s too honest for some people, or too forward, I guess. It doesn’t bother me, but the man has ruined more shirts than I can afford in a year.”

  “Where’s he meeting them?”

  “Mostly online. Which is why I tried to get him interested in you,” I say with a sheepish smile. “You’re pretty and nice and smart, and I thought he might have more luck with someone he already knew.”

  She clucks. “You’ve almost made me feel bad for telling you I’m not straight.”

  “Better
you ruin my plans sooner rather than later,” I tease back. “This way, I can set my sights on someone else.”

  “Someone else?”

  “To pair him up with someone else. There’s this gala thing he’s going to for his mother’s award, and she’s determined to have him set up with Sandra Swank by then. Don’t worry, she doesn’t have babies penciled in until next year.”

  “That’s ridiculous. What year is it?”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Why not you? You could go with him. Even as a friend.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not Jack Darcy dating material. His mother is looking for someone with great breeding. Her words, not mine.”

  “That’s very weird.”

  “Yes, I know. Plus, I’m a teacher. Jack deserves to be with a genius or something.”

  “I don’t know...I think Jack deserves to choose who he’s with.”

  “Fair enough. But I’m just giving him the tools to be successful when he finds a woman he wants badly enough to chase after.”

  “I want in.”

  “What?”

  “I want in,” Caroline says again with a smile. “I want to help. Romance Academy and all that.”

  “Jack would kill me if he knew I’d told you about this. He likes to keep his professional life separate from his private life.”

  “Behind the scenes help, then,” she says. “I’m picking the next book he reads.”

  I grin at her. “I respect that.”

  “You should write this stuff down for him.”

  “I was thinking about that...” I hesitate, still uncertain whether I’m ready to bear all with Caroline. “A lot, actually. I like that idea.”

  “Well, you should. I haven’t had a date in too long; I could probably use a refresher course, too.”

  “Really? You’d be interested?” I can hardly keep the skepticism out of my voice. “I had this idea actually. It’s stupid.”

  “If it’s so stupid, why are you telling me?”

  Caroline’s so blunt in her response that I’m forced to stop and think. “I’m not sure. But I guess now I have to tell you.”

  “What’s the idea?”

  “A blog.” It feels good once I’ve said it. “I know it sounds silly, and I’m sure that nobody out there would want to read about—”

  “I would.”

  “I haven’t even told you what it’s about yet.”

  “We have the same taste in books, judging by the way you’re eyeing my collection. I don’t really care what you talk about, I’ll probably like it.”

  “Well, this is what made me think of it. I was thinking of taking Jack’s name out, but including bits about Romance Academy. You know, the books we read, the silly rules—you know, Rule Number 9, don’t—”

  “I’m sold. You should do it.”

  “But what if...”

  Caroline waits for a long moment, but I never finish my sentence, and eventually she prompts me to continue. “What if...what?”

  “It fails?”

  She shrugs. “Then nobody reads it and nobody’s the wiser. Just do it anonymously at first if you’re so worried, or leave off your last name.”

  “Huh.”

  “What’ve you got to lose?” She selects a book from the shelf and hands it over to me. “Rule number whatever-the-hell-you’re on: Romance isn’t complete without a little fairytale.”

  Chapter 14

  JACK DARCY

  Jack: What is this?

  Allie: A book.

  Allie: A romantic book.

  Allie: A fairytale.

  Jack: What’s the lesson here?!

  Allie: Just read.

  I set my phone down, my face frozen halfway into a smile. Last night, after dropping the soup off at Caroline’s, Allie had sent me an urgent memo that she had the next lesson for Romance Academy prepared. She said I could find it outside my condo, waiting for me in a brown paper bag.

  When I got home, I found the brown paper bag. I now understand why she’s been avoiding my calls all day.

  Yesterday evening, I started reading the book left on my doorstep. There are details in here that make me blush, and I’m a doctor—I’ve seen it all.

  Allie tells me that Rule 10 is all romance needs a little fairytale. I just didn’t expect this fairytale to be so erotic.

  I have to wonder why Allie gave me this particular book. I mean, there’s not a whole lot of romancing going on here except for the sex and dirty talking. I scratch my chin as I read another page, and it dawns on me that maybe that’s the entire point of this lesson. Maybe, I realize with horror—Allie thinks I’m shit at sex.

  I pick up my phone and fire off a text.

  Jack: I’ve gotten to the good bits. What am I supposed to take away from this?

  Allie: Just keep reading.

  Jack: Stop avoiding the questions. Come over here and book club with me.

  Allie: You hate book clubs! You tell me they’re nothing more than undercover wine clubs.

  Jack: I changed my mind.

  Allie: Have you finished the book?

  Jack: Working on it, but it’s hard.

  I didn’t mean to write that last part, but now it’s out there in the SMS battlefield. When I picked up this variation of Beauty and the Beast, the last thing I’d expected was for it to turn into a kinky little lovefest. And I’m still not sure what Allie meant when she gave this one to me.

  Jack: So, why did you think I needed to read erotica?

  Allie: It’s good to read broadly!

  Jack: I asked you for help with romance, not sex. I don’t have issues there.

  Allie: Of course you’d say that. You’re a man.

  Jack: Lesson 11: Sex and Romance are separate. I can have sex without romantic feelings.

  Allie: Sex is better with romance.

  Jack: Sometimes it’s not. No strings attached is easier.

  Allie: I thought you were looking for a relationship.

  Jack: I am. You gave me an erotic romp through historic England. I’m having trouble seeing how this relates to my situation.

  Allie: It’s giving you ideas.

  Jack: I have plenty of ideas now, thank you very much.

  Allie: Then it’s working. You’re welcome.

  I frown, shifting in discomfort as I adjust my position on the couch.

  Jack: Define what you mean by worked.

  Allie: If you’re turned on, it did the job.

  Jack: What good is getting turned on if I’m over here alone and single?

  Allie: I’m not going to comment on that.

  Jack: I thought you offered to help.

  The hesitation on her end is too long, and I’m filled with an alarmingly brutal sensation of achievement when I see the three dots on her end to signify she’s writing to me. Then the dots stop, then resume, then stop, then resume. This continues for about ten minutes.

  Jack: I can see you writing and deleting your responses.

  Allie: How do you turn that feature off?

  Jack: Come on by, and I can show you. Lesson for lesson.

  Allie: That sounds filthy.

  Jack: I’m talking about book club.

  Allie: It’s important to read widely across genres.

  Jack: Did you read this book?

  Allie: Maybe. Probably. Yes. A few times.

  Jack: And...what did you think?

  Jack: I can see you typing again.

  Jack: You’re still typing and deleting.

  Jack: I can see the three dots, still.

  Allie: Shut up! I’m thinking.

  Allie: It’s a good story.

  Jack: Which part?

  Allie: Uh, the whole thing?

  Jack: I’m up to the part where they have sex in her kitchen, and I have to wonder if that’s sanitary. They’re eating like five minutes later.

  Allie: Jack. It’s fiction.

  Jack: I’m just being realistic.

  Allie: Rule 12: Sometimes, in romance, you just wan
t to be carried away and forget about realism.

  Jack: What does that mean for real life?

  Allie: I guess when you find the right person, your life feels better than fiction.

  Jack: Do you know what that’s like?

  Allie: Not yet.

  Jack: Why am I taking dating advice from a person who’s never been in love?

  Allie: I didn’t say I’d never been in love.

  Allie: Love isn’t always a two-way street.

  If only she knew, I think, setting my phone next to me. I rub my forehead, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I’m sitting at home alone, reading erotica and text-book-clubbing with a friend who thinks I’m as good as a brother.

  And yet, I can’t seem to look away. I return to the book, flipping through another three chapters before I realize nearly an hour has passed. I’m all hot and turned on again by this damn book, and I can’t seem to make it go away. A sure sign it’s been too long since I’ve had sex.

  At the same time, I’m not interested in a fling. I might have been in the past; it’s easy, mutually beneficial, and on a good day, a clean break once all is said and done. But lately, I’ve outgrown the part of that which is considered fun. Now, it just sounds exhausting.

  Which means I’m stuck with nothing.

  Nothing except erotic fairytales.

  Another few pages, and I’m thinking I might just have to take a cold shower. I should really stop reading, but I can’t seem to make myself, and I’m about to text Allie this when my phone rings.

  I groan at my mother’s number flashing on the screen. She’s picked just about the worst time to phone. My skin crawls just thinking of what she’d say if she could see me now, so I wipe the thought from my mind and ignore the call. I’ll return it later, when I’m more sound of mind. My mother is not one I’m ready to battle with when most of the blood has gone to the wrong part of my body.

  My mother, however, has other plans. The phone rings again before I even have the chance to set it down. Her number is bright on the screen, obnoxious, and I know if she is calling twice, she won’t give up until she finds me. What my mother wants, she gets.

  Closing the book, I set it next to me, take a few deep breaths, and hit answer. “Hello, Kathleen.”

  “Are you busy?”

  “A little. Do you need something?”