I look at myself in the mirror as I splash water on my face. I’m still flushed, and my clothes are a mess, along with my hair. I look like I just got done having phone sex. And I did.
During Thanksgiving dinner.
When I return to the table with a forced smile, reaching for my water, Nate looks up.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I say. “Work thing.”
I’m not going to do it.
It’s a terrible idea.
There’s no version of this conversation that ends well, and the best-case scenario is that Nate doesn’t make fun of me for the rest of my life.
He’s sitting on the couch pulling on his shoes, and that means he’s about to leave, and I’m about to lose my opportunity.
“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe, casual, reminding myself that this is a completely normal thing to ask your older brother. “You got a minute?”
He looks up, and something in my face must give me away because he straightens, concern flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Alex—”
“I’m serious, I’m good. But I need your help with something, and I need you to not be weird about it.”
He holds up both hands. “I’m not gonna be weird.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I’m not.” He pats the spot beside him. “Sit down.” I do, staring straight ahead for a long moment, trying to find the least embarrassing way to say what I need to say.
“I’ve been seeing someone.”
The change in his face is immediate. The tension falls away, replaced by relief.
“Yeah?”
“Only for a few months.”
“Wow,” he says, a smile spreading across his face as he pats my back. I know this must be the best news ever to him. He’s always been worried about my lack of interest in dating. “That’s great. What’s her name?”
Hername isMike.
“It’s—” I pause. “It’s new. I don’t want to make it a whole thing yet.”
“Okay,” he says, nodding. “That’s fair.”
I look at the wall, the easy part over. “Anyway. Things are getting more serious, and she asked me to— you know. And I want to do it right.” I can feel my face getting hotter with each word, but I power through it. Mike’s safety is more important.
“I need advice.”
When I’m met with silence, I look over at Nate, who’s staring at me with confusion first, but quickly turns to recognition. “You’re asking me—”
“Don’t be a dick about this, I’m begging you.”
He clears his throat. Looks at the ceiling. “Okay.” Another long pause. “Okay. Yeah.” He nods, visibly steeling himself. “What do you want to know?”
