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“What’s the name of the last guy you went on a date with?” Brandon demands.
“Jere … brian.” I clear my throat. “Jerebrian.”
“Sounds like a winner.”
“It’s not his fault his parents chose a terrible name.” Or that he doesn’t exist and I made him up just now.
“So, are you bringingJerebrianto the gala?”
“No. It didn’t work out.”
“Why not?” Brandon asks, and I justknowhe knows that Jerebrian isn’t real and is waiting for me to admit it.
I’d prefer to double down instead. “Jerebrian, as it turns out, lives with his parents. And has no job. And also Mr. Eds didn’t like him.”
Brandon snorts. “Your cat hates everyone. Including you.”
He’s not wrong. My rescue cat spends most of his time skulking under my furniture and trying to swipe at my ankles when I walk by.
“Jerebrian also has a gambling problem. And gout.”
I don’t quite remember what gout is, but it suddenly popped into my mind. Wasn’t it the thing Benjamin Franklin had from drinking too much Printer’s Punch? I had no idea this random piece of trivia from my seventh grade history class was still floating around in my brain.
“Whatever,” I say. “I’d rather not talk about Jerebrian anymore. He’s definitely not an option.”
“So, Jerebrian is out. Why don’t you ask one of the guys on the team?”
“Hard pass. You know I don’t date players.”
Though not official Appies policy, it’s always been my personal rule not to date any of the guys. It could just get complicated. And I really, really like my job.
“Just so long as you remember that applies to Logan.”
Oh, boy. I don’t like the direction we’re heading now. I say nothing, not wanting to give anything away.
“You can’t deny you’re still carrying an Olympic-sized torch for him.”
I want to argue but I’mreallysweating now. “Bitterness isn’t a good look on you, bro.”
“And betrayal isn’t a good look for anyone. Remember that, sis.”
Like I could forget how badly Logan’s sudden departure from Harvest Hollow hurt.
The difference between me and Brandon is—I forgave Logan. (Even if I’d still like an explanation for why he totally ghosted us.) I didn’t let my anger sour into something ugly.
But trying to tell my older brother anything is like trying to teach a cement block to fetch and roll over. Not happening.
“Whatever else you do, just don’t fall for him,” Brandon says. “Again.”
“I won’t.”
And it’s true. But only because I can’t fall for Loganagainwhen my crush has somehow managed to continue uninterrupted for what amounts to half my life.
Man—it sure sounds sad when I put it like that.
“Sure, you won’t,” Brandon says.
“Byeeee, Brandon.” I hang up.
