Page 15 of Infatuation

Holy shit.

I want this girl.

I want her bad.

And I’m stuck here with my goddamned brother.

Seven

Josh

When I enter the family room after my shower, Jonas is nowhere to be found, which is good because, after his little tantrum in the car, I still feel like punching him in his pretty face. I grab a beer from the fridge, plop myself down on Jonas’ pristine white couch, and turn on the basketball game.

Shit. I should be with the Party Girl with a Hyphen right now, pouring on the charm, making her realize this story’s ending is inevitable—not babysitting my high-maintenance brother. But I can’t leave him right now, especially to go chase a girl (even if that girl happens to be a particularly gorgeous one). He’s just too wound up. I’d never forgive myself if he lost his shit completely and did something stupid.

I take a giant swig of my beer. Seriously, though. I don’t blame Jonas for freaking out about Sarah, despite what I said to him before. What the fuck’s going on with her? Is she fucking with him? I mean, in theory I understand why Sarah opted to stay with her mom instead of recuperating at her temperamental boyfriend’s house. Jonas isn’t exactly anyone’s first choice as a relaxation buddy. But why has Sarah been so fucking non-communicative with the poor guy while she’s resting up? Is she doing what I always do—keeping the other person guessing? If so, why? He’s obviously waiting with bated breath to hear from her—she must know that. And yet she’s not calling him back? She’s just been engaging in superficial text conversations with the poor guy, tearing a page right out of my book. I hate to admit it, but things don’t look good for my brother’s chance at a happy ending here.

I shake my head and exhale. Please, God, let this girl call himand tell him she wants him, once and for all. Please, God, let her do the equivalent of holding a boom box over her fucking head. Because if Jonas shatters again, then it’s gonna be me who’ll have to pick up his infinite pieces—again. And at some point, there’s not gonna be enough superglue in the world to hold that motherfucker together anymore.

I take another long swig of my beer.

Well, shit. I should just call Sarah for him and ask her what the fuck’s going on. I down the rest of my beer. Hell yeah. That’s exactly what I should do. Nobody fucks with my brother. She seems like the coolest girl in the world, I must admit—but right now she’s fucking with him. No doubt about it. And that’s not cool.

No. Obviously, I can’t do that. She’s not fucking with him. I’m just being an idiot. She was stabbed. She’s being hunted by a global crime syndicate. Jesus. Maybe placating Jonas’ feelings isn’t high on her priority list right now.

Poor Jonas. My stomach twists. What the fuck am I gonna do with him?

I run my hand through my hair, my stomach twisting into knots. I exhale loudly.

Well, I gotta do something.

A smile dances on my lips. Maybe I should try to get some inside information from her hot best friend? Now there’s a call I certainly don’t mind making.

I pull out my phone and I’m assaulted with a naked selfie from Bridgette, her legs spread-eagle, her fingers shoved up her hairless crotch, a huge smile on her face. The note accompanying the photo reads, “Come and get it, Faraday!”

I roll my eyes. What the fuck have I been doing, messing around with Bridgette? She’s stunning to look at, but she’s such a fucking train wreck, it’s not even worth it.

“Your waxer missed a spot,” I text to her in reply.

Her reply is immediate. “Ha, ha. Are you gonna come hit this or not?”

“Not. I’m in Seattle with my brother. Family emergency.”

“Oh damn,” she writes. “I was in the mood for some huge Faraday peen. I don’t always do peen, but when I do, I make it huge Faraday peen.”

“The most interesting woman in the world,” I write, though it’s the furthest thing from the truth.

“I guess I’ll have to find some other huge peen to satisfy me, then,” Bridgette writes.

“Good luck with that. Once a girl’s had Huge Faraday Peen, no other peen shall do.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to get me some pussy. You know I’m a big believer in affirmative action.”

“Whatever floats your boat, Bridge. Enjoy.”

“So when will you be back in LA?”

“A couple days at least,” I write. “Just depends on how long my brother needs me.” Of course, I have no desire to fuck Bridgette when I get back to LA, whenever that happens to be. I’ve long since lost interest. But we’re so rarely in the same city at the same time, given both of our travel schedules, I’ve never felt the need to make a formal declaration of my lack of interest.

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