Page 152 of How to Win the Girl

I like this game.

“Go.”

“What are you looking for in a guy? To date, I mean.”

“You just randomly thought of this question and decided to call?”

At least he didn’t video chat me with no warning.

I’m in—big shocker—a hoodie and leggings, my bedhead in a tangled mess on top of my head.

“Just woke up from a nap and thought of it.”

I nibble at my bottom lip, thinking.

“Um, let’s see. What am I looking for in a guy?” I repeat the question to buy myself some time. “Someone reliable, I guess. I know you talked about your family and told me a bit about your dad, but I haven’t said much about mine.” Taking a deep breath, I go on. “My parents are great, don’t get me wrong—still married and all that—but to be honest, my dad isn’t a great partner? It’s hard to explain, but my mom does most of the parenting, and he wasn’t around much. Not because he was traveling or whatever but because he did his own thing.”

I feel guilty admitting that; kind of like I’m throwing Dad under the bus, even though it’s all true.

He wasn’t—and isn’t—the best partner. If Dad wants to go watch a football game at a sports bar, but my mom had made plans for them, he’ll always choose to do what he wants over spending time with her.

“I want someone to be there for me. I don’t want to do to parties or weddings by myself the way my mom always did.”

I can almost hear him nodding along as I speak, hearing it in his words when he says,“That’s a fair request.”

“I’m also… looking for someone funny—and handsome, obviously.” I smile at that, picturing him puffing out his chest.

“OH! I’m funny! And I’m REALLY good lookin’.”

“Modest, too!!!!” I tease because it’s so easy to tease him.

“It comes naturally.”

“Like everything else?” I’m teasing again, but he surprises me with his answer.

“Actually, no.”

“No?” I’m in the kitchen, leaning my hip against the counter, listening to him speak as I peel open a frozen pizza. Put it on a cookie sheet and pop it in the pre-heated oven.

I’m starving after class and can’t think of anything else to eat.

“No.” His voice is gravelly. “When I was younger—when we were kids, Drew was the better athlete, and it used to drive me crazy. He just had…more skill, you know? Natural ability. I had to work on mine. Nothin’ was easy. If he could getitin one hour of practice, I had to take three.”

“And.” He goes on. “We’re identical now but when we were in middle school, he was a few inches taller—which drove me nuts.”

“I bet!”

“Yeah.” It sounds like he’s scratching his chin. “All the dudes in my family are big, you know? Tall and shit. And here I was shorter than my damn twin.”

“Blow to the ego?”

“That’s an understatement.”

We’re both silent for a few seconds.

“So what about you? I know you weren’t interested in a relationship—not that this is a relationship,” I backpedal, cringing to myself. “Back at you, I mean. What are you looking for?”

“Haven’t given it much thought.” He pauses and scratches his chin again, his hand muffling the mouthpiece on his phone. “Not looking for a user. Someone sincere—like my brothers’ girlfriends. Neither of them gives a shit about fame or money or being in the public eye.”

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