How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,57

at me ever since.”

“What party? What did you do?”

So I told him.

He was quiet when I finished. “Shit, I don’t even remember that party,” he said finally. “What a fucking mess. That’s not like you, man. That sounds like something I would have done, not you.”

“It’s true. You were the hookup guy, not me,” I said. “Remember that time we got into a strip club with fake ID’s? And then you—”

“Oh, shit, that was years ago,” Dean said. “I was a different guy. Holly will never know that story. Never. I might have to kill you if you say another word.”

I laughed despite myself. Needling my best friend was cheering me up a little. “You’re such an asshole.”

“Correction,” Dean said. “I was an asshole. I’m not anymore. And you never were. Except that one time, I guess.”

“Taking her to this wedding was supposed to be my apology,” I said. A bridesmaid passed me, wobbling on her heels, and gave me a smile as she disappeared into the reception hall. “Things got… out of hand, and now she’s panicked, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Carsleigh,” Dean said, “are you seriously asking me for advice on your love life?”

“You must know something,” I said. “You’ve managed to keep my sister as your girlfriend. And my sister is pretty awesome.”

“I don’t know anything about women,” Dean said simply. “I only know about one woman.”

That made me pause. “Shit, you really do love her,” I said.

“Since you haven’t sliced my balls off yet, you already knew that.”

I did. It was weird for me, having my best friend and my sister as a couple, but the longer they were together, the more I trusted him with her. Dean didn’t fake things, and he didn’t fuck around. When he was all in on something, he was all in. Like me.

“Then tell me something,” I said. “What if it was Holly who was shutting you out right now? What if it was Holly who was telling you she didn’t want you?”

“I’d give her space,” Dean said. “I’d have no choice. Okay, I’d break things. Maybe a lot of things. But I’d do that in private. And then I’d settle in and wait, because she’s worth it.”

“Fuck,” I said. “I pushed her. I always go too far, too fast. I keep fucking this up.”

“There’s something else to think about,” Dean said. “There’s you. You just got out of that shit show with Charlotte, which was four years of your life. You need to get your own shit together, Jason. Maybe she has to wait.”

I stared down at my shoes. He was right. Maybe I needed some time, some space. I had things to figure out. “Okay,” I said. “Got it.”

“Good. And don’t ever ask me about this shit again. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go find my dick and put it back on.”

“Fuck you, Madden,” I said, and hung up.

That was what passed for affection between Dean and me.

The reception was noisy, with the orchestra playing and the guests milling around, drinks in hand. Megan was talking to her aunt Janice, though her eyes stayed on me as I walked into the room, pocketing my phone. She looked tense and pale, her arms crossed over her chest. I didn’t go to her; I couldn’t do the pretend-date thing, not right now, while I was too raw. I had walked to the bar and ordered a beer when a hand clapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, man,” Kyle said.

Of course. I’d have to talk to this guy. “Hey,” I managed back. “Congratulations.”

“I feel like we’re bros now,” Kyle said. He was holding a tumbler with something clear in it, and I realized he was drunk. “You know, bros,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder again. “Because of Megan.”

I took my beer, trying not to puke in my mouth. “Yeah, not really,” I said.

“She’s a fantastic girl. Amazing.” He leaned in. “I was her first. Maybe she told you.”

I looked into his bleary eyes. “No, because she doesn’t make creepy conversations like this,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”

“You guys should come visit us when we get the new house,” Kyle said, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’d love to get to know Megan again. I mean, look at her. Man, oh man.” He shook his head. “What a great summer that was. I have good memories.”

“Yeah?” I sipped my beer. “You tell your wife about those good memories?” His pained expression was almost comical, so I added,