Page 46 of Yours, Unexpectedly

“You know, I’m not totally sure. She wouldn’t really talk about it afterwards. Except with Jules. They always go to each other when one of them is feeling moody.”

I surreptitiously pull out my phone and add that piece of information to my “Bex” note.

“Alright, I’m done talking about my sister’s love life. It’s a beautiful day—doesn’t happen often in February in Massachusetts. Want to go down to the park and toss around the football?”

“Sure, Gabe. It would be a damn shame to waste the day away,” I say, tucking my phone away.

And we don’t. We throw the ball for a bit before joining an impromptu yoga class featuring a mix of townies and college students. When Gabe starts a contest to see who can hold a tree pose the longest, all I can think about is how much I value our friendship. His playfulness is contagious and has brought me out of many funks over the years. I’m grateful for him on days like today.

I hope I don’t fuck that up.

“So you had another date with Jack last night?” Luci asks as she pops another jelly bean in her mouth.

“Yes…”

Her eyes narrow when I don’t immediately give more details. “Well? How was it?!”

“It was fine.” I flop down on the couch between us when she scoffs at that response. “He’s nice and he likes me—what more can I hope for?”

Luci’s hum in non-committal.

Boring Brother

Let’s grab coffee soon.

This is Jules in case those jackasses messed your phone up again.

I appreciate the clarification.

Favorite brother:

Do I even want to know what they changed it to?

Probably not. But don’t worry, I fixed it. *heart emoji*

The next several weeks fly by. Anders and I see each other in class and make time for each other a few nights each week.

It’s not enough, if I’m being honest, but I know this arrangement was my idea, and I don’t feel like I can or should ask for more. I still don’t feel like this is real. Like Anders could possibly want me.

But he keeps showing up. And texting. And bringing my coffee to class. And giving me mind blowing orgasms.

I have yet to return the favor, which feels weird. I’m starting to wonder if Anders has, like, a cheetah print dick or something. I would worry that I don’t turn him on, but I can feel how turned on he gets when we are messing around. And it’s not like he’s worried about his size—that man is packing some heat down there.

Every time I try to bring up the lopsided nature of this benefit-ship, Anders redirects the conversation. Or playfully asks if I’m disappointed in the benefits of our friendship. As if that’s even a possibility.

I walk into the Coffee Shop for my coffee date with Jules, thinking about how almost two months ago in this very place, I literally ran right into Anders. He came barreling back into my life so unexpectedly. It brings a small smile to my face just thinking about it.

“What’s got you so happy, baby sis?”

I startle, not realizing Jules has come up behind me.

“Woah, didn’t mean to scare you. I waved you over when you walked in but you didn’t see me. Here, I grabbed us some drinks and a table over here,” he says as he guides us to a table in the back corner of the shop.

Jules is the quietest of the four Bardot siblings. He’s got shoulder length wavy hair that is such a deep shade of brown, it’s almost black. He’s got it pulled back into a man bun today, showcasing the tattoos that peek up from under the collar of his black shirt. Jules always wears black and definitely gives off tortured artists vibes.

Aside from the haircut, he may look identical to his twin, Ben, on the outside, but they couldn’t be more opposite. Jules is dark to Ben’s light and bouncy nature. Ben and Gabe are actually much more similar to each other than Ben and Jules.

I know to call Gabe or Ben if I want some fun—to get out of my head. Jules has always been great about giving me a space to simply be. I can call Jules crying and he’ll tell me to come over, no questions asked. He always has my favorite Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, Pistachio Pistachio, stocked in the freezer, even though no one else in my family will eat it. When I arrive, The Notebook is pulled up to stream or Carole King’s Tapestry album is blaring from his vintage record player. He lets me sit in my sadness until I’m ready to talk, and for that, I will always be grateful.

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