Page 1 of Can't Always Get What You Want

prologue

Nova

I’m not being dramatic when I say I’ve never been so upset a person left me in all my life.

Fine. I know he hasn’t left me, left me—he’s literally moving into a house in the suburbs outside of the city—but still. Nearly the same thing…

It’s depressing knowing my brother, Gio, is no longer living three floors above me; I can no longer surprise him with visits, can’t steal food from his fridge, can't interrupt him and his girlfriend in any tender moments. He’s been my built-in safety net, my loud, annoying, overprotective safety net.

And now he’s gone.

Packed up his things, kissed me on the forehead, and drove off to suburbia with his very pregnant girlfriend.

And call it habit—call it codependency, call it whatever you want—but it feels like I’m losing my partner in crime.

Partner in crime? Ugh. I hate when people say that, especially men on dating apps.Ha ha, looking for my partner in crime!No, Chad, you’re looking for someone to split your Netflix subscription and swipe their ex’s password for Hulu.

With a miserable groan, I throw myself onto the couch, weight of my sudden loneliness hitting me square in the chest.

“You get it, don’t you, Gio?” I ask, scratching the dog behind his weird ears. Yes, the dog has the same name as my brother–it’s a long story. He belongs to Austin, my brother’s girlfriend and he’s glaring at me, letting out a dramatic sigh as if to say,Can you keep it down, lady? I’m trying to nap.

Jeez. I thought babysitting him would be fun, but he’s been nothing but salty.

He probably feels abandoned too, though they’re coming to pick him up on Monday. They wanted the weekend to get moved in and didn’t want the dog to feel out of sorts with movers going in and out.

“Glad someone’s thriving,” I mutter, pulling out my phone and opening the dating apps.

When your brother moves out and your couch buddy is a dog that resents you for being a shitty dog sitter, there’s no better time for emotional self-sabotage.

Let the games begin!

The first guy? Shirtless mirror selfie.

Swipe left.

The second guy? Holding a fish.

“Why is it always a fish? Are they trying to prove they can provide sustenance in a post-apocalyptic world?”

Swipe left.

The third? Another traveler, every photo in a different exotic location, including Machu Picchu and the Canary Islands.

“Sir, I can’t even afford a latte right now.”

Swipe left.

“Little dude, why are men like this?” I ask the dog, turning the phone toward him. He squints at the screen unimpressed and sniffs the air. “Want to move in with me permanently? Wouldn’t that be fun? Huh?”

I go to give him more pets, but he lets out a soft sneeze and hops off the couch—clearlyover my pity party. Gio trots to the other end of the room, his bald stick legs barely making a sound, before flopping onto his blanket.

“Never mind. I take that back.”I didn’t need a dog’s support to have my feelings validated anyway.

I glance back at my phone, debating whether to swipe on another profile or just delete the app altogether.

Curiosity wins out and I continue scrolling; mindlessly, thumb hovering over a man’s profile named Blake. Five years older, well-dressed, and posing with a golden retriever in front of a hiking trail.

“Hmm,” I mumble, narrowing my eyes at the screen. “Are you really outdoorsy, Blake—or did you borrow your cousin’s dog for the photo?”

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