Another knock.
“How can I help you, Mr. Scott?”
I press a pen to my mouth before answering, trying to think of how Linus can help me. “Did you reschedule with Miss Westin?”
“Yes.” He searches his iPad. “You’re scheduled to see her on Friday.”
“Friday, hmm.” I tap my pen against my lip, while I look to the ceiling. “Step into my office and take a seat.”
The soft click of my door shutting sounds off in the room, and Linus takes a seat across from me, hands poised in his lap, a sturdy set to his shoulders.
I’m not a dick boss like most guys would be in my position. I don’t overwork Linus, and I give him plenty of perks for putting up with the hours he has to sometimes work, but right about now, I’m thinking he might need a raise after the conversation I’m about to have with him.
“We’ve known each other for a few years, right?”
Linus nods. “Five to be exact.”
“Five, wow. That’s a long time to know someone. Would you say you know a lot about me?”
A little wary, Linus says, “I would say I know almost everything about you, sir. Comes with the territory.”
“I guess it does, doesn’t it?” I shift in my seat and level with him. “If I were to tell you something personal about me, what would you do with the information?”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir. I have an NDA with you. Anything you tell me about yourself never leaves these walls.”
I point my pen at him. “I knew I liked you, Linus. Remind me to buy you a new suit. You like Tom Ford, right?”
His eyes light up. “Yes, sir. But that’s not necessary.”
It might be after what I’m about to say.
“Linus, did you know I have a crush?”
He shifts in his seat, visibly showing a touch of discomfort. “I didn’t, sir.”
I lean forward on my desk. “I do.” The pen gets tossed to the side, my palms spanning across the papers scattered over my desk. “I have a serious crush on someone and I don’t know what to do about it. I have no one I can talk to about it.”
“Not even Mr. McCool or Mr. Westin?”
I laugh. “Yeah, those two would be the last people I would tell.”
“Um, can I ask why?”
“Because, they have no idea I feel this way. I’ve kept this hidden for years.”
“Oh.” Linus adjusts his tie. “Can I ask what you might be talking about so I could be a little bit more helpful?”
I slap the desk. “I thought you’d never ask.” I stand from my chair and roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt as I let out the secret I’ve been holding in for so long. “I have a crush, Linus, a crush on my best friend’s sister.”
I closely watch Linus’s reaction, which turns out to be a small smirk.
“I had a feeling you might say that.”
“Why?”
“Well, first, the way you watch her, like a man who is staking his claim.”
“I’ve got that primal look, huh?”
“You do. Also, she’s the only one you clear a calendar for or let walk in your office when you’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“She needs to know she’s important to me. I’d drop anything for her.”
“It shows. There is the post-bliss look you have whenever she leaves your office. You always have milkshakes delivered after she leaves. Milkshakes are your I’m happy treat, and given the strict diet you’ve been on, we’ve had more milkshakes lately than normal.”
God, I fucking love milkshakes. Chocolate peanut butter has been my go-to lately from the place around the corner. They put a swirl of peanut butter around the edge of the cup before putting the milkshake inside. There’s something about that little touch that makes the calories all worth it.
“Do you think I’m going to lose my six-pack before I even get the girl?”
Linus chuckles. “I think you should be cautious.” Linus was the right person to ask. That he’s noticed the changes in my behavior when I’m with her is impressive. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.
I stick my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels. “All right, the next shake we have will be when I get Julia to go out on a date with me. How does that sound?”
“Sounds like a celebration to me. How are you going to ask?”
“And there’s the problem.” I pace my office, letting out all my personal problems on Linus. “The only reason she’s been coming to my office is because she thinks I want to be put through her dating program, when in fact, the goal is to get closer to her during these meetings.”
“Ahh, I see. But is she going to set you up with people?”
“Yeah, and I figured I’d go on a few dates just to appease her and then swoop in. But I have to get her to want to fall for me when I swoop, you know?”
With a smile, Linus scoots forward on his seat. “You want to make it impossible for her not to be able to say no when you confess your feelings.”
“Exactly. God, you’re smart. It’s why I hired you. Sharp as a tack.” I tap my head.
Pride beams from Linus. “And why can’t you simply tell her how you feel beforehand?”
Even though it’s a little embarrassing, I level with him. “Because, back in college, I let her know I liked her . . . in a way, and she turned me down.”
Linus’s eyebrows shoot up, his face in utter shock. “She said no to you?”
Chuckling, I adjust the collar of my dress shirt. “Well, I was a tool back then. President of my fraternity with nothing in the mix of what I was going to do when I graduated. I don’t blame her. She was on a fast track to earning her doctorate. I wasn’t the kind of guy she dated.” I pull on the back of my neck. Hell, I’m not sure I’m the kind of guy she’d date now, but I believe we’re meant to be. I want her as mine. So, it’s time to make that happen.
“That’s hard to believe, sir.”
“You’re very good at brown-nosing, Linus. You’ve come a long way since your first day.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott. Now how can I help you with your love life?”
“Great question.” I tap my chin. “How can you help me? Well, the last time I spoke with her, we didn’t end things on a good note.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too.” Still can’t believe she hasn’t had sex in two years and that she turned down my offer to “help” her out. Boy, is she going to be sorry she did the moment I press my tongue against her clit for the first time. “But, that’s why we need to act quick. We should send her something to her office, tell her that I’m looking forward to seeing her Friday.”
“Would you like to send flowers?”
I shake my head. “Julia isn’t a flowers girl. No, we need to send her a box of pens.”
“A . . .” Mid-sentence, typing on his iPad, Linus pauses. “Did I hear you right? You want to send her a box of pens?”
“Not just any box of pens, Linus. I’m talking about her favorite pen. She lives and breathes for these pens. I’ve had a near-death experience of her fist hovering over my crotch because of one of these pens. You don’t mess with them.”
“Ahh, okay. I get it. So she would appreciate the gesture.”
“She would. I’m going to need you to deliver a dozen Paper Mate Profile Ball Point pens in blue to her office, but have them look like a bouquet of flowers. Put them in a vase or something.”
“Smooth.” Linus takes notes.
“And then Friday, an hour before my meeting with her, I’m going to need you to change the location of our meeting. Let her know I had to travel uptown and that you made reservations at Chez Louis.”
“Chez Louis. Want me to make those reservations after we’re done here?”
“Yes. Tell them Bram Scott would like the table by the windows. They’ll hook me up. And please make sure there is a town car waiting for Julia to take her uptown.”
“I can do that.” He takes some more notes, tapping away on his i
Pad.
“That should do for now. Phase one, get her to notice me.”
“I’m pretty sure she already notices you, Mr. Scott.”
I turn to face him. “Why do you say that?”
“Because, every time she comes here, right before she walks into your office, she takes a deep breath. Women don’t just take a deep breath like that unless they’re calming their nerves. I think she notices you, Mr. Scott, but you just need to turn up the charm.”
And this is why I hired this man: he notices breathing patterns. Fucking brilliant.
“I feel like kissing you, but I’ll refrain.” I bounce on my heels, feeling pumped. “How about a high five, or . . . milkshakes?”
Linus shakes his head. “Milkshakes come when she accepts a date.” He stands from his chair and holds out his hand. “But I’ll take the high five for now.”
Not as good as a milkshake, but I take it anyway and snap my hand at his, sounding off a crack in my office. God, that felt good.
* * *
Julia: Did you really send me a bouquet of pens?
Bram: Not just any pens. THE pens.
Julia: I can’t believe you remembered.
Bram: A man doesn’t forget almost getting his balls knocked off his body over a pen.
Julia: I take my writing utensils seriously.
Bram: I know this. I hope we’re cool after everything that happened.
Julia: We’re cool, Bram.
Bram: And we’re more than acquaintances, right? I would think at this point I could call you a friend, Jules.
Julia: Yes, we’re friends.
Bram: Fuck yeah, we are. And as your friend, I want to know, what are you doing about your dry spell?
Julia: Will you drop it?
Bram: Do you know how painful that is for me to do? Just tell your FRIEND, do you plan on going on any dates any time soon? Any guys who have caught your eye?
Julia: I’m on hiatus.
Bram: You could say that, Miss Two Years.
Julia: Are you trying to make me mad? If so, you’re doing a great job.
Bram: I’m trying to see if I should tell your brother there’s another boyfriend on the horizon that we need to thoroughly question.
Julia: Believe me, if there was a guy I was considering dating, you and Rath would be the LAST people I would tell.
Bram: What? Why?
Julia: Because you two always seem to have too many opinions. I think it’s a jinx. The next relationship I jump into is going to be kept away from Rath and you for as long as I can help it.
Bram: Harsh, Jules, real harsh. And here I am throwing my love life at the mercy of your brilliant hands.
Julia: That was your choice, and my choice is to keep things private.
Bram: Ah, I’ll find out somehow. But in the meantime, enjoy those pens. I’ll see you Friday.
Julia: See you Friday and thank you again. I might have smiled a little too brightly when I saw the vase.
Bram: That’s exactly what I like to hear, because your smile is beautiful.
Chapter Nine
BRAM
Senior Year, Yale University
“What are you up to right now?” Roark asks, looking hungover for the first time since I’ve known him.
“Headed to the Coffee Bean and then the library.” I give him a once-over. “Are you going to go crawl back into the dumpster you slept in last night?”
Roark rubs his eye with the palm of his hand. “Christ, man. I think I smoked way too much weed last night.”
Ah, that explains it. Alcohol doesn’t ever affect Roark like this, not to the point where he looks like the walking dead.
“O’Reilly?” I ask. It’s all I have to say really. He’s the other exchange student from Ireland who came along with Roark. They went their separate ways when they landed in the States, Roark going the fraternity route while O’Reilly went the sports route. Even though he’s the captain of the rugby team, he’s most known for being half-baked half of the week and the most confusing part of all of it is the man plays better high than when he’s not. Maybe because he doesn’t overthink things and just plays the sport. Either way, whenever he gets together with Roark, it’s guaranteed you will see two Irishmen walking around campus looking like human trash bags.
“Fuck, man. We played the worst game last night. Shot Toke.”
I pause in my pursuit to the coffee kiosk. “Are you telling me after every shot you took, you inhaled?” He slowly nods his head.
“I lost count after seven.”
“Jesus Christ, how are you still alive?”
“No fucking idea.” He takes a deep breath and bends at the waist. “Shit, I’m going to puke.”
I point to a trashcan near the economics building. “Have at it, man. I have gum when you’re done.”
He shakes his head. “I have a flask of Jameson in my backpack. I’ll boot and rally. Catch you later, man.” And with that, he jogs toward the trash can next to the opening of the economics building, sticks his head in the hole, and lets it all come out.
And here these economics students thought they were going to learn about the business world today, not see an Irishman empty his stomach in a trash receptacle.
Coffee. I need coffee in order to get over that image. I make way to the Coffee Bean kiosk that’s in the middle of the quadrangle. The smell of caffeine is already waking me up from my late-night studies. I might put on a show, acting like I party a lot but in reality, that’s just Friday and Saturday. The rest of the time I’m studying like a determined motherfucker. When I graduate from college, I’m going to cash out a CD from my grandpa and put it to use the best way I know how—investing.
I’m planning for a successful future, and I can’t do that if I’m partying every night. I might be smart, but not as smart as Rath, who can get away with not studying at all and still ace his exams. The dude is a robot, I swear.
“What can I get you?” the barista asks the girl in front of me.
“Can I please have a soy chai latte please?”
I know that voice. I take a step forward and lean over the girl’s shoulder. “Good morning.”
She startles and jumps back, right into my chest. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
I smile wickedly at Julia Westin, taking in her sweatpants and thermal long-sleeve shirt, and I can’t help but wonder . . . is she wearing tube socks under those baggy sweatpants?
My guess is yes.
“That was my intention.” I step forward and pull out my wallet as I speak to the barista. “I’ll have what she’s having.” I lay down a ten-dollar bill paying for the both of us.
“That’s not necessary. I can pay for my own.”
“Yeah, and guess what? I can pay for both of ours, so let me be a gentleman and buy you a latte.”
Thankfully, despite the eye-roll, she doesn’t put up much of a fight.
“Fine.” She folds her arms over her chest, and as if it’s the most difficult thing she’s ever had to do, she says, “Thank you.”
“See, that wasn’t too hard.” I bump her shoulder with mine playfully, but I can still sense how salty she is. I’m not sure why, she just got a free drink.
She rolls her eyes and steps to the side with me. “You have no idea how painful that was.”
“Just as painful as asking for help with Professor MacKenzie? How’s that going by the way?”
She bites on her lip and glances away, looking like she wants to turtle in on herself.
With a laugh in my voice I say, “Let me guess, the last paper you turned in was an A.” I nudge her shoulder again. “Just confess I was right.”
“I don’t know how my brother puts up with you. You’re really annoying.”
“Because I’m right?”
“Yes, because you’re always right and you know it.”
The barista sets our lattes on the counter and I reach over, grabbing both of them. I hand Julia hers and watch as she carefully cradles it with both hands, takin
g in the light scent of Christmas in a cup.
“There’s nothing wrong with being confident in my knowledge. Shouldn’t that be a turn-on for women?”
“Intelligence is sexy. Cockiness is not.”
“Are you saying I’m cocky?”
She nods. “Yeah, you’re the definition of it.”
“So because I’m a confident male, that makes me cocky?”
“There is a difference between confidence and cockiness.” She takes a sip and starts to walk away.
She doesn’t get far before I’m walking backward in front of her, wanting to continue this conversation. I might be dense, but I don’t see a difference at all.
“Explain the difference. Educate me.”
She stops and juts out a hip, annoyance in her eyes and the cross of her arms. “Really? You need me to spell this out for you?”
“Yeah.” I grin.
“Fine.” She takes a sip of her drink before explaining. “It’s simple. When a man is confident, he doesn’t have to boast about it; he shows it in his body language and the way he presents himself. When he’s cocky, he makes sure everyone around him knows by flapping his gums and bragging about whatever is on his mind at that time.”
“You think I brag?”
“I don’t think, I know.”
“Yeah? What have you heard me brag about?” I stand in front of her, blocking her path, a wide stance grounding me.
“Everything.”
“Give me an example.”
“There are so many.”
“Humor me,” I press. “Pick one.”
“Well, you know . . .” Her eyes float to the side, her lips quirking. “There was that time when . . .” She shifts on her feet. “Oh”—she snaps her finger—“when you . . .”
She has nothing.
“Stop bullshitting. You don’t have one example of me bragging, therefore you’re wrong.” I step to her side and wrap my arm around her shoulders, walking with her down the quadrangle. “Ah, it feels so good to be right, you know? Here you are, Julia Westin, thinking you can disparage Bram Scott, but what little you know of me. If you paid attention more rather than judging me all the time, you would realize I’m really a humble individual, never once showing an ounce of cocky attitude. Nope, not this guy. I’m as genuine as they get. I hate to say it, but you really had me pegged all wrong there, Jules.”
The Secret to Dating Your Best Friend’s Sister Page 7
