Page 75 of The ABCs of You & Me

“That’s the nerdiest damn thing I’ve ever heard,” she says in a hushed tone. “What have you done for all the other letters?”

“Um, an alumni gala, barbecue, concert, drag brunch, Easter, farmers’ market, goat cheese,” I count off using my fingers.

“Goat cheese? You had a goat cheese-based date? Like you learned how to make it, like a cooking class?”

“No, I got some at the farmers’ market and then taught her how to make a dish with it.”

“What did you make?”

“A pasta dish.”

No touching unless I say so.

“Did she like it?”

I remember the look on her face as I pulled the fork slowly out of her mouth. How her eyes closed and the tiniest moan escaped. I felt it through my entire body like a shockwave.

“She did,” I admit without going into more detail.

“You wasted no time getting to know her, eh?”

“Well, not really. We’ve known each other since we were kids. She’s my sister’s best friend.

“What?” Jess’s mouth has dropped open, and she looks elated.

“What?” I ask again.

“You’re her best friend’s brother?”

“That would be the other way of putting it, yes.”

“Oh, this is too good!”

“What is?” I’m so lost.

“This trope,” she huffs.

“Trope?”

“Like enemies-to-lovers or friends-to-lovers in books and movies.”

“Best friend’s brother is a trope?”

“Yeah, it sometimes carries a forbidden quality with it. Like ‘Oh, I can’t fall for him, he’s my friend’s brother, what if things go wrong, now things will be weird with my bestie.’”

“Okay,” I say slowly. I don’t know what else to say to this. I don’t want this to be seen as a trope. I want this to be just Sophie and me spending time together without some weird trope-y expectation hanging over our heads. I also don’t want things to go wrong and it messes up Sophie and Cass’s relationship. I hadn’t even considered that. “But do you have an idea for J?”

“Juggling lessons? Jokes? You could go to a comedy club. Jousting? I don’t think that’s a thing people do outside of Medieval Times so never mind.” She sits back and crosses her arms, lost in thought. “Jigsaw puzzles. J… J… J… Jazz? A jazz club? Jogging? You run, right?”

“I’m not sure I want to…” I was going to say I don’t want to get all sweaty, but a vision of Sophie post-run has me shutting up real quick.

“Jacuzzi? Oh, jumping! Go to a trampoline park,” she squeals enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a good way to injure ourselves.”

“You’ve gotta live a little before you’re thirty, Foster.”

“I’ve lived plenty without risking breaking my neck on a trampoline, thanks.”

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