Page 53 of How to Lose at Love

“So you have a girl coming to hang out, in your room, you’ll probably close the door even though nothing is going on, and you don’t want to serve pizza but you also don’t want steak.” Drew pauses. “Anything else we should know?”

My jaw clenches. Does he have to say it like I’m doing something shady? Or wrong? Or whatever he’s implying in that tone of voice?

He may be my younger brother, but he’s judgy as fuck sometimes.

“It’s not just any girl—it’s Ryann.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s not just any girl, it’s Ryann,” he mimics. “What the hell does that mean?”

No idea. “It means we’re just…hanging out. We’re not even friends, so get your mind right.”

“Not even friends? Then why are you hanging out?”

Dang.

Okay, little brother’s got me on a technicality, and I have no good way to respond.

“Leave me alone,” I finally growl, in no mood to keep circling around, barely in a mood to have company.

I hit the gym first. Shooting the shit with my teammates, Ryann’s name never crosses Diego’s lips. A good sign, yeah?

There’s no way I’d be able to explain using her to Diego.

Using her?

Huh.

Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m doing. I figure as long as she’s in on the plan, it’s no big deal, right? Open and honest, no matter what the honesty looks like—that’s my style.

Tearing off the Band-Aid. Cutting to the chase.

No one—including her—can accuse me of being misleading. Does everyone like the honesty? No. Those people cansuck itbecause I’d rather be upfront than a passive pussy, Diego Lorenz being a shining example of one.

Imagine being such a pussy you can’t break up with your own damn girlfriend.

How fuckin’ embarrassing.

My watch buzzes, and I glance down at it, Ryann’s name lighting up the tiny digital screen.

Where am I going? I need your address.

To the point—I like it.

I give her my address and a brief description:

White house, blue door

Roger that. See you in ten.

I wonder if she’s walking, then wonder if I should offer to pick her up, which defeats the purpose of her coming over to negotiate, doesn’t it?

Still, half of me thinks it’s the polite thing to do. The other half of me doesn’t give a shit. Ryann is a big girl; she’ll put on a scarf if she’s cold.

I hear the doorbell exactly ten minutes later.

Hear the sound of my brother opening the door, Drew’s enthusiastic greeting. “Hey, come on in. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

What the fuck? He hasn’t heard shit about her, other than her name and that bit about Diego paying me to dump her. Freaking Drew, meddling in my business already.

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