This Is My Brain in Love - I. W. Gregorio Page 0,39

Poor Asians!”

“It’s funny because it’s true.” I sigh.

Ultimately we decide on jean shorts and a peasant-style blouse that I bought at T.J.Maxx with the hong bao money I got from my relatives this Chinese New Year.

“It’s perfect,” Priya declares. “You look nice but not too formal, and the shorts plus the neckline of that shirt give him enough skin to be intrigued, if that’s where his mind is going.”

I look at myself in the slightly distorted full-length mirror on my closet door. “You really think his mind will be going there?” I stare at my boobs (too small), my knees (too knobby), and my waist (too close to a muffin top for my liking). Maybe Will didn’t want to watch the movie on the clock because he felt uncomfortable about me paying him. Maybe he ended up offering his own house because he didn’t want to spend an extra minute in our crappy restaurant.

“What if he’s not straight?” I ask.

Priya nods. “That’s always a consideration. But if he’s straight, or bi? Trust me, I have two brothers. I’m pretty sure his mind is going to be going there.”

WILL

Wednesday night, I pick Jocelyn up at the library. It’s the cover story she gave her dad, and she wants her bike to be there in case he passes by during a delivery.

The entire ride to the library, my body felt itchy with nerves. But as Jos gets into my car, I realize that the most amazing thing about her—better than how competent she is, how bitingly funny, how cute—is how it quiets my brain just to be around her. I don’t know what kind of alchemy it is, whether the smell of her pheromones somehow triggers a receptor in my nervous system, but having her sit in the passenger seat hits the reset button on my mind.

I feel like a blinking cursor on a screen. Full of potential. Anything could happen.

JOCELYN

When I get into Will’s car, I have to bite back a laugh, because Will looks as nervous as I feel: eyes just a little too wide, shoulders practically at the level of his ears.

“Hey,” I say. And as he looks at me—as he really sees me—I watch the little crease on his forehead disappear. His shoulders relax, and he smiles back at me.

“Hey,” he says.

It’s a quick ride to the Domenicis’ development. I’ve been here before for deliveries, but this is the first time I’ve been here as a guest. I let myself ogle the ginormous houses and the occasional glimpses of fenced-in pools and huge, tree house–like play structures.

Walking into Will’s house is a bit like walking onto an HGTV set. Everything is immaculate, from the cream-colored sofas with artfully casual pillows to the sparkling kitchen with stainless steel appliances. There’s a curio cabinet in the dining room with some sculptures that look like they’re from Africa, and framed family photos on the wall of the massive stairway leading up to the second floor. I wonder where all the stuff of living that seems to proliferate in our house is. Maybe his family carries a gene that makes them immune to clutter.

Despite how perfect everything is, Will looks just a little anxious as I peek around, like he’s worried that it won’t be up to snuff. He has a glass of water ready for me, and some popcorn that I stuff into my mouth so I won’t say anything inappropriate like, “OMG, you guys have a concert grand piano?” or, “Holy shit, is that an eighty-eight-inch QLED TV?”

None of it really surprises me. The fact that Will hardly batted an eye at the four-hundred-dollar Expo fee kind of tipped his hand. Will pulls up his family’s iTunes and rents the movie. “I hope you like it,” I say. I’m pretty sure he will. Recommending movies is my superpower.

I’ve watched enough teen movies to anticipate what comes up next: couch sitting awkwardness. Will seems to be waiting for me to sit down, so I take the recliner on the left side. The only problem with this arrangement is that the Domenicis’ sectional is huge—pretty much the opposite of intimate, and there’s an entire stationary seat in between the two sections that recline. Will doesn’t even blink and chooses the seat without a recliner. I do a mental fist pump.

Will’s laughing from the first scene, when Holly Hunter’s asshole boss snarks, “It must be nice to always believe you know better, to always think you’re the smartest person in the room,” and