Page 26 of Chasing Blue
Being raised with all us boys around her, my sister has always been direct with minimal filter.
“I’m not her biggest fan, Jack. She’s too wishy-washy for you, not ballsy enough. You need a girl with a bit more sass and attitude but do the right thing and break things off sooner rather than later.”
“She’s got sass,” I argue.
“My arse. She’s the kind who’ll throw a tantrum if her skinny macchiato isn’t hot enough, or if MAC sells out of her favourite shade of Cremesheen lippy. But she won’t start taking her earrings out when it looks like I’m gonna start punching on at the pub, hold my arms while I take a piss in a bush, or my hair back while I throw up.”
“Wait. What? Girls hold each other’s arms while they take a piss?”
She pulls her brows together in a frown, tilting her head to the side while looking down at me.
“Dude, you ever tried to squat in a bush and piss? Especially after a big night?”
“Why the fuck would I? I’m a bloke, I stand up and piss.”
“Well, let me tell you, it’s not easy and the arm holding job is only given to a girl who’s got your back, or a dude who’s potential husband material.”
Still frowning, she studies me for a moment before asking, “You’ve really never held a girl’s arms?”
“Nope.”
“See, that’s kinda sad. You’ve got to the age you are and never been into a girl enough to hold her arms.”
“I would. If they’d have asked me, I would’ve done it.” Even as I say the words, I wonder why I’m trying to defend myself. “Besides, my lack of arm holding is not a measure of my commitment.”
“Yes, it is. When I choose my friends, I subconsciously consider their likely commitment to holding my arms if it was required of them, and I do the same when I start dating a bloke. I know then how much effort to put into either relationship.”
I’m not sure if she’s serious or not, so just stare at her blankly until she smiles.
“You’re so full of shit,” I tell her with a head shake.
“Maybe, maybe not,” she responds with a shrug while still smiling.
“Anyway, you need a girl with that kind of sass. One who’ll fight beside you, hold her besties arms. Not a girl who’ll worry about chipping a nail or losing an eyelash extension . . .”
Scarlett. Scarlett O’Brien, my Blue. She’s the kind of girl I want.
My sister narrows her eyes on me.
“What?” I question.
“Who is she?”
“What?” I repeat.
“Who. Is. She? The look that crossed your face just then screamed to me that you were thinking of someone.”
“The fuck, Amelia? What are you on this morning?” I feign indignation and lie through my teeth. I’m not ready to admit to anyone, myself included, but especially not my sister, that Blue has got me all twisted.
“Fine.” She shrugs. “But this time,Icall bullshit. You’ve been off all week, and now I know why, but if that’s the way you wanna play it.” Another shrug followed by a headshake. “All I’m saying is, Julia’s into you, that’s obvious, blatantly apparent to everyone, and I’ve only met her a couple of times. It was also apparent those couple of times that it was never gonna work. She’s too much of a princess, and you’re too much of a bloke. Just get the deed done before Little Miss Fairy Floss falls any harder and starts thinking of baby names.”
My already knotted stomach churns at the prospect.
“I fucking hate this shit,” I admit.
“Then don’t get yourself into these situations, that way, you won’t have to get yourself out of them.”
I tilt my head and meet my sister’s eyes. “Stop dishing out sensible advice, I’m the adult here.”
