Chapter 4

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BREE

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Love is a lot like physics. And by that, I mean that I know absolutely nothing about either one.

Maybe that's why I've had 12 failed relationship prospects in the past three months.

That's gotta be a new record, right? Like... do I get a certificate or something?

"Wait, I don't understand. I thought you liked this one," my sister Jillian says through the phone.

"I thought so too, but... I dunno, Jills, I think I scared him off."

"Did you start talking about rocks?"

I sigh.

"Yes."

I've always had a thing for rocks. Not in a hippie cool-girl kind of way where I litter my house in crystals that claim to heal your chakras or something. No, I like rocks in the dorky, reads-about-carbon-dating, fills-her-pockets-with-rocks-during-a-hike kind of way. This is not the first of my dates who has been freaked out by my overeager monologues on rocks.

"Well, what did you say?"

"He asked me about my job, and I explained that I'm the social media manager for the Natural History Museum. And one thing leads to another..."

When the museum job came up, I leapt at the opportunity. Not only am I a Grade-A science nerd, but roaming the halls of their geology department is arguably my favorite pastime. Now, when I'm not working from home, I get paid to spend time there.

"...I started telling him about this private museum outside of Tokyo that has a collection of rocks that look like faces. And how visitors sometimes get to name the rocks and there's one that looks like Elvis and another that looks like Donkey Kong. And I was talking about how the guy who founded the museum started with one rock and he had a dream where the rock talked to him and asked him to find him rock friends."

"Okaaayy..." she says. "Well that's not so bad. I mean, yeah, it's a little weird, but it's not like you said you wanted to start your own face-rock museum or something."

I mean... I didn't exactly say that.

"I might have said something along those lines."

"Ahh..."

Yeah, that particular comment seemed to be the turning point for him too. I get away with a lot because I'm pretty enough that most of my dates are willing to accept my eccentricities. But when I suggested I'd like to start my own museum but for rocks that look like food, he gave me this wide-eyed look that told me I had just crossed over into weirder-than-I-am-pretty territory.

Oops.

"Yeah. He was nice, but he wants someone that I'm not."

"Who's that?"

"Someone..." I bite my lip and resist the urge to say normal. "...traditional."

"Well, then he's dumb. So you're not just like everybody else. That's a good thing. Tradition is only a good thing when it comes to family recipes and Christmas carols."

"I'm pretty sure mom would disagree with you on that?"

"Uggh, Mom..." She groans and takes a deep breath. "I know she's our Mom, Bree, but that does not mean she's always right—especially not when it comes to you and her expectations. She's human and she's flawed. Majorly, majorly flawed."

She might have a point. Susan Logan is hardly Mother of the Year material. But it somehow doesn't sting any less that she is so disappointed that I'm not married and living in the suburbs like Jillian. If mom had her way, I'd be a paralegal with a closet full of grey pantsuits, maybe engaged to an investment banker who's mediocre in bed and doesn't bother taking his socks off.

I think I just threw up a little.

"Fair enough," I say with a sigh. "It's not like I'm desperate for a relationship or something, but my track record lately is really starting to make me feel like an unloveable weirdo."

"Oh, Bree. Don't take it personally. If anything, your track record is just further proof that you're desirable and lots of people ask you out. You just have standards."

"I guess. I'd just like to make it past the first two dates with someone, you know?"

"What about that guy you work with?"

Since I don't have a lot of work friends—okay, just the one really—I know who she's talking about. Valentino is a grad student working in the geology department at the museum. He's cute I guess, and friendly enough, but things between us are strictly platonic.

"Val? No, he's just a friend."

"Does Val know that?" she asks suggestively.

"Oh come on. I can have friends who aren't just trying to get in my pants."

"I know, B, I don't mean it like that. I just know you sometimes miss the signals people are sending out."

She's not wrong. I do not get subtext.

"True. But there's nothing going on there, at least not on my end."

"Have you given any more thought to Hot Neighbor Man?" I can practically hear her eyebrows wiggling through the phone.

"He gave me his number."

"What??" She shrieks so loudly into the phone that I have to hold it away from my ear for a moment. "When??"

"Wednesday."

"You asked for his number??"

The level of shock in her voice is almost offensive. It's not like I'm incapable of asking for someone's number, I just... usually don't.

"Not exactly. I told him I went up to the hot tub on the roof of our building and I ended up coming back down because there was a guy being creepy. He said I could call him next time I want to go and he'd come with me."

"Babe, come on! He likes you!"

"I don't know... it's complicated, Jills."

"How so? He's cute and you like talking to him. What's the problem?"

"Well first off he's like... really cool. He has these massive, like, black tattoo-type things all over and multiple ear piercings... and his face is all chiseled and beautiful like a supermodel."

"I don't think you and I have the same definition of problem."

"He's way too cool for me, okay?" I sigh. "I'm a dork and I'm always putting my foot in my mouth. The other day I compared him to a harlequin frog and implied I thought he was poisonous. Guys like that do not want girls like me."

"Bree..."

"Besides," I interrupt before she has a chance to scold me, "he's my neighbor, so if I asked him out or something and he said no, I'd have to see him all the time and it would be awkward. And it's not like he hasn't had plenty of opportunities to ask me himself, but he hasn't."

"Fair enough," she hums. "But there's nothing wrong with being friends and enjoying a little eye candy."

"I've gotta go. I still have some work to finish up on."

"Okay," she says, "but I expect to hear back this weekend about your hot tub outing with your gorgeous neighbor."

I try to tell her that I'm not planning on going this week, but she says goodbye and hangs up before I get the chance. I know that's just her tactic to ensure that I feel obligated to call him now.

And I do.

Damn her.


A/N: Hey there 👋 Lux here! Just popping in to say thank you for the reads, comments, and votes! This week's chapter is a smidge on the short side, but that's because I had to split them somewhere so the next one will be extra long. Let me know what you think so far!

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