Page 20 of All Our Nevers

“Ugh, boo! Horrible wordplay. Try again, dickhead. Or even better, be quiet and blow up more balloons.”

“You could—”

“Owen. If you say I could blow your balloons or anything similar, I’m throat punching you and leaving. Now take one and shut up.”

He laughs, then grabs the letter T atop the balloon pile. “Yes, ma’am.”

I choose an amethyst pencil and start lightly outlining the words Andy Has Loved Sophie Since…

“So,” Owen says, “are you against all casual hook ups, or just a casual hook up with me?”

We’re back on this, I guess. “Why would you want to hook up with me, Owen? Seriously. I don’t understand.”

“Because you’re hot. It’s not that deep.”

I half-heartedly roll my eyes. “That’s what she said.”

My response surprises him enough that he lets out a genuine laugh—like he can’t believe I didn’t respond with physical violence.

“No, but actually I love casual hook ups. Not with you,” I emphasize, “but I much prefer them to relationships.”

“Why’s that?”

I switch to a navy blue pencil, adding curves of shadow under my bubble letters. “Most people in relationships don’t even like each other that much. They just want to feel wanted. It’s either transactional or it’s delusional.”

“Woah,” he says, leaning back with the force of his surprise. “That is so much more bitter than I expected you to be.”

I grab the sea foam green pencil just to chuck it at him. “It’s not bitter, it’s realistic.”

“Do you view friendships as ‘transactional or delusional’ too? Do I need to warn my brother?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. People genuinely like their friends. But with relationships, we start them for shitty reasons and stay in them for even shittier ones. Sex, power, external validation... it’s all selfish and, yeah, delusional.”

“So you never date?” he asks.

“I didn’t say that. I just like to keep things casual. Don’t need to pretend it’s more than it is.”

Owen ties the knot on another balloon. “I have to admit, I don’t totally see how this is an argument against the two of us hooking up. I am fantastic at casual.”

“You’re also my best friend’s brother.”

“So?”

“And a dickhead I can’t stand.”

He shrugs. “Touché.”

The navy pencil scratches over the paper. Owen’s balloons squeak and crinkle into shape.

“You know,” I say, “you’re acting like you disagree, but you’re the perfect case study. The laundry list of twenty-somethings you parade around Boston doesn’t exactly scream commitment-ready.”

“I mean, sure, I’m not looking for commitment right now,” he replies. “But that doesn’t mean I think it’s impossible.”

That has me putting my pencil down and turning to face him. “Just to make sure I’m hearing you right, you think it’s possible for people to have authentic, positive romantic relationships, but you at your big age of thirty-one just aren’t ready for that yet? Then when will you be, Owen? You’re not some college kid anymore, my guy.”

He tosses an eraser at me with a light-hearted, “Fuck off. You calling me old?”

“I’ve seen the insoles in those dress shoes of yours.”