Page 79 of The Irresistible Distraction

“Fine, you’re helping justify the confidence I already rightly feel.” He uses his free arm to gather me against him more tightly. And even though I know we should start thinking about cleaning up after ourselves, that I have to at least go and take down the rest of my mangled shower curtain, I give myself a few more moments to enjoy the existence of a man in my bed. The first in . . . four years.

“You were going to share something? When we were naked enough to be private?”

He chuckles, and I flatten my hand against his chest as if to absorb his laughter, bottle it up for another day, far in the future when he and this aren’t necessarily as readily accessible.

“I forgot.” His voice is laced with surprise, and I feel another warm glow within me, storing this memory away as well. His hand trails up and down my arm, and when I shiver, he reaches down to snag the blanket we discarded earlier, tucking it around me before he continues. “I never wanted to go to law school,” he starts. “It was the deal my father and I made, that I’d major in whatever I wanted, wherever I wanted, as long as afterward I became a lawyer. But . . . considering both my parents are lawyers, I knew pretty early on I wouldn’t enjoy it. So senior year of college, while applying for law schools, I also took the GREs and applied to Stanford’s PhD program. I was dating a girl who had already started there, and I thought, If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”

I push away the small twinge of pain I feel as I think about a younger Brody, potentially making plans around another woman. “You didn’t get in?”

“Nope. Not even waitlisted. I interviewed with them and could tell we weren’t necessarily going to be a good fit; the PI I wanted was a dick. And not like a fun dick you want to play beer pong with, but an actual egomaniacal asshole. Think Adeline, but with government funding and a Nobel.”

“Isn’t it good, then, that you didn’t get in?”

Brody shrugs. “It didn’t feel like it at the time. No one, not even my then girlfriend, knew I applied. I guess I had this fantasy that I’d get into Stanford and my father would say, Sure, son, go ahead and pursue your dreams.” He’s quiet for a long moment, his hand still teasing the skin along my arm. “I was so bitter when the letter came. Everyone was congratulating me on Yale Law, and all I could think about was Stanford’s National Accelerate Laboratory.”

I laugh a little, I can’t help myself, and Brody twists our bodies so that he can make eye contact. “Okay, last time you laughed, I went with it, but like . . . I’m vulnerably pouring out my soul here.”

“Yeah, and I—” I cut myself off in time, because I cannot be thinking that I love something about Brody, because after a week and a half, I cannot allow myself to use the word love to describe any part of this. I let out a breath and try again. “I appreciate that you’re opening yourself up here, but all you’re admitting is that you applied to probably the best PhD program in the United States⁠—”

“Second best, maybe third. But my Caltech professors would have pulled strings to help me get in, meaning I would have never known if I was good enough. Also, MIT has really long winters, so I didn’t apply.”

“Isn’t Yale on the East Coast meaning the winters are just as long?” Brody frowns, as if he hadn’t really considered that. I continue. “Let’s suppose, for a moment, that eight years ago Brody didn’t know about basic weather or geography. How many law schools did you apply to?”

I’m sure Brody sees where this is going, but he answers anyway. “Six.”

“And how many did you get into?”

“Five.”

Brody’s body is so tense beneath mine that I make an educated guess. “Did you apply or get accepted into Stanford Law?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “Yes, but they didn’t specialize in the fields I like.”

“So what you’re saying is, you applied to multiple law schools, got into almost all of them, but because you only applied to the second or third best PhD physics program in maybe the world, you just decided it wasn’t meant to be? Time to break up with your girlfriend and commit yourself to a life of law?”

“This isn’t really the soothing sympathy I had imagined.”

“It shouldn’t be.” I thread our fingers together before adjusting my head back on his chest. “You worked an entire day as a dishwasher to get one date with me. I don’t believe for even a millisecond that if you really wanted that relationship or the PhD, you wouldn’t have chased her to Stanford Law or, I don’t know, stayed at Caltech.”

“I both hate and love how right you are sometimes.” We’re both silent for a moment, processing. “Are you saying I was basically too much of a chickenshit to go after what I really wanted?”

“Given everything I know about you? I’m guessing you weren’t certain about either the girlfriend or the physics, if you weren’t willing to fight for either.” I’m suddenly remembering Brody telling me he was the man of honor at his college girlfriend’s wedding, that he said he’s still friends or friendly with all his exes, and I’m remembering that the man I just rode, just had the wildest, most explosive sex of my life with used to to be engaged to Vi Shindler. I lick my lips again, wondering what makes me qualified to give Brody Branca advice, before deciding that I’m going to anyway. “Hopefully, you’re smart enough to learn from your mistakes.”

“I seem smart enough.” His hand on my arm tightens; I can already hear the laughter creeping back into his voice. He moves his other arm and shifts himself until he’s on top of me, caging me lightly.

“Usually.” I wiggle under him. It’s difficult to punch him in this position, so I push at his chest lightly, loving the way his body then follows mine, pressing me farther into the mattress. “I didn’t think you were the type of guy who needed to fish for compliments.” I’m proud of how steady my voice is, even as my entire body is coming back to life.

“Maybe I only fish with you, because they’re so rare and feel so well earned.”

I look down because I can’t quite make myself meet his gaze, to deal with the potential ramifications of everything we’re becoming.

“You know what I love about you?”

I catch my breath at him saying the word I just censored myself from even thinking.

“What?”

He lowers his head until his lips meet mine, lightly, almost tauntingly, before he pulls away to whisper, “The conversation’s almost as good as the sex.”