How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,11
perfect.
“Can I borrow him?” I asked, pointing at Dean as he walked to the counter and ordered himself a coffee.
Holly swung around, saw her boyfriend, and swung back to me. “Nope.”
“I won’t touch him, I swear.” I held up my hands. “Hos before bros, you know.”
She laughed. “Nice try. Megan, you are not taking my boyfriend to Cape Cod.”
“Why am I going to Cape Cod?” Dean asked as he approached our table, completely unaware that the barista was staring at his ass from behind the counter as he walked away. He touched Holly briefly on the shoulder and sat down.
“You’re not,” Holly said decisively.
“I was just going to borrow you,” I argued. “I was going to bring you back.”
“I don’t think I’m on loan,” Dean said. “But what for?”
I looked at him for a minute. Dean had been Eden High’s bad boy before Holly came along. He was pretty much made of testosterone. I might as well get a man’s perspective. “Dean, can I ask you something?” I said.
He shrugged. “Shoot.”
“Would you go to your ex’s wedding?”
“No.” He didn’t even hesitate.
“Even if your relationship was a long time ago?”
“No.”
“Even if you were single and didn’t have Holly?”
“No.”
“What about if the groom was your cousin?”
He shrugged. “Still no.”
“A cousin you liked.”
“Then I’d send him a fucking card,” Dean said, “but still no.”
Holly was smirking, trying not to laugh. I threw up my hands. “God, it’s so easy for men,” I complained.
“That’s because it’s easy,” Dean replied. “No fucking way. Why are you even considering it? Girls are fucking nuts.”
That made Holly laugh, and I tossed a balled-up napkin at her. She didn’t have to worry about this stuff, because Dean didn’t have any serious relationships in his past. He’d been a hookup guy, which meant he was never getting invited to any wedding, ever. He claimed that Holly was the only woman who had managed to put up with him for longer than three dates.
“I don’t know,” I said, answering his question. “I have, like, all these complicated emotions about this thing.”
“That sounds terrible,” Dean said, as if I’d admitted I had crabs instead of feelings.
“It’s my mother’s side of the family,” I said, “and it’s like I have to prove to them that I haven’t become this huge loser since my mother died.”
Holly bit her lip, no longer laughing, and Dean went quiet. He sat back in his chair. He’d been a foster kid, so he understood what it was like to lose a parent, even if he didn’t understand the need to impress a set of relatives. “Okay then,” he said finally. “You just get it over with. Get Holly to make you a dress.”
“Already on it,” Holly said.
Dean nodded. “And yeah, you do need a date if you don’t want to look like a loser. But I’m a bad choice. I’m not the guy who impresses people. If you want to impress people, take Jason.”
My stomach clenched. I pictured Jason in his rain-soaked sweatshirt, his dark eyes staring at me from under the hood. Hung-over Jason, kicking a guy in the stomach. “Jason?” I asked.
“Sure,” Dean said. “Every girl who’s ever met Jason has wanted to take him to meet her parents. Moms swoon over Jason, grandmas, everyone. He’s that guy.”
“It’s true.” Holly rolled her eyes. “My brother the dreamboat.”
He had been. Of course he had been. A football player, the golden boy of Eden High. I remembered that as well as anyone. But when I thought of Jason, I thought of the man I’d seen yesterday. That guy was hot, but he wasn’t meet-the-family material.
“He’d probably go,” Dean said. “He’d probably like a distraction. Plus, he owns a suit.”
“Have you seen him lately?” I asked.
Dean shrugged, and Holly shook her head. “He’s been keeping to himself since he broke up with Charlotte,” she said. “Mom says he works a lot.”
Maybe they hadn’t seen the same Jason I had, then. I crossed my arms, determined to deflect the conversation. “Surely there is someone in possession of a penis in Eden Hills who isn’t either Jason or Dean.”
“Maybe,” Holly said, “but you went to Eden High. They were the two biggest dicks in school.”
“Shit,” Dean said, lifting his baseball cap and scratching beneath it. “Now I’m uncomfortable.”
“Oh, please,” I said, pointing at him. “You can’t tell me you didn’t see the girl behind the counter eyefucking you when you got coffee.”
Holly shook her head. “He never notices,” she said. “Not ever.”
I looked at her. “Seriously?”
“I’m sitting right here,” Dean