Page 94 of Betting on the Brainiac

“I like being here,” she says. “I’ve never thought of myself as someone who likes quiet, but I do. I come over here and something inside of me unwinds.”

Is it good that she relaxes here? Or bad because it means she feels no tension with me, not even the romantic kind? If that’s bad, it’s only bad for me. Am I bad for thinking it’s ba—

“Hey, do you want to date Ruby?”

Sorry, what? “Do I want to date Ruby? Your roommate Ruby?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Because of Charlie, right?”

“I didn’t say anything about Charlie.”

She gives me a knowing look. “Points for trying to cover for your friend, but you know he’s gone on her.”

“I’m not speaking on his business. Charlie aside, still no. Ruby is cool, but I don’t see her like that.”

“What if Ruby wanted to date you?”

“She doesn’t want to date me.”

“She asked me if she could.”

I laugh before I can catch myself. Ruby is trying to wingman me in her own demented way.

“Why is that funny?” Madison looks offended now. “Ruby is awesome.”

“No argument. Do you want me to date Ruby? I’m confused about the right answer here.”

“I want you to date whoever you want.”

“What if I want to date you?” The words pop out before I can stop them, but it’s the conversation I’d woken her up to have.

“You . . . do you?” Her words are cautious.

“Call it a thought experiment. What if I wanted to date you?” I force myself to stay loose, telling my body it’s tired so it won’t tense up, but my brain is on high alert.

“That seems like a not-good idea,” she says. Her carefulness gives her away. She’s trying not to hurt my feelings.

A heavy weight settles in my stomach, but I don’t let my expression change. Disappointment, I’d call it. But only because it’s not an outright rejection. If she outright rejected me, that would be like having my insides kicked with spiked boots.

“Don’t stress,” I tell her. “I’m trying to understand the parameters of this thing we’re doing. Probably something we should have talked about before the wedding, like any two single people who are about to spend a lot of time together. Especially when one of them is hot.”

She shifts, maybe getting ready to flee. “That’s sweet—”

I frown at her. “I was talking about me.”

She grins and leans back against the sofa. “My bad.”

“Just to be sure we’re on the same page, it’s not a good idea because you don’t want to date me?” My voice sounds level but curious, and it’s such a good performance that I might need to buy myself new Nikes tomorrow.

Knitted brows. She meets Little Stripey’s eyes but not mine. “We have friend energy, right?”

I don’t say anything.

“Right?” she prompts, glancing up at me.

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