“I’m impressed you managed to save me some. What do you want?” he asks suspiciously, peeking his head around the corner.
I look to him with a contrived offense. “What, I can’t offer my brother dinner?”
“Sure, but every other time you manage to polish off the whole thing before I can even smell it, so once again, Dylan, what do you want?”
Resting against the back of the couch, I grin. “Well, since you seem so eager to offer your services, there may be a little something I need you to do for me.”
Chase looks to me trying to get a read on what I might ask, and it takes only a moment more before he starts shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, no way. I won’t be your spy, Dylan. She’s my friend, and I won’t be a party to your trying to seduce her. Forget it. I’d rather die a horrible death from starvation then do that to her.”
“Come on, little brother. All you need to do is talk me up to her a little. You know, mention how I’m a good guy and a great brother, I’ll take care of the rest with my undeniable charm.”
“Nope, not happening. As I said, she’s my friend. One doesn’t willingly subject friends too…well, the likes of you,” he replies.
“Chase, she’s been your friend for a whole seven hours, I’ve been your brother your entire life. Come on, do me a solid and I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” I plead.
He makes his way to the kitchen, then returns to the living room with a plate, taking a seat on the couch opposite me. “Dyl, if you have so much charm, why can’t you get her to go out with you on your own?”
“Honestly, I don’t think this one’s going to be an easy hook.” My brother shoots me a displeased glare. “Sorry, I mean, I think she’s going to take some convincing. I invited her over here on Saturday for the party, she refused at first, but I told her that you’d
think it’s cool to have her here. All I need you to do now is get her to at least consider that I’m a good guy.”
Chase looks me over for a moment before answering. “Why are you so interested in her, Dylan? She’s nothing like the other girls you bring around—Velyn actually has a brain. And I know for a fact that you noticed her clothes had seen better days; they weren’t your standard couture ensemble.”
“Obviously by that comment, you did too,” I point out.
Chase nods. “Yes, but my observation comes from wanting to learn more about the people I surround myself with. Yours comes from wanting to weed those same people out.”
“Are you trying to say that I’m judgmental and have a type?” I ask.
“Oh, no, I’m not trying, Dylan, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Chase replies with not even an ounce of guilt in his tone.
I let out a sigh. “Chase, the only real criteria I have is that they’re female and hot; Velyn fits both of those categories. Well, she could use a lesson or two on whatever girls learn to make themselves worthwhile to look at, but even a fixer-upper can surprise you. What do you say, are you going to help me or not?”
“Dylan, in good conscience, I have to decline. If I was to help you, I know exactly how it would play out. You’re going to get her to go out with you a few times and show her that classic Dylan charisma. She’ll fall for you because they always do, then when you’ve decided that you’ve had enough, you’ll cast her aside with all the others. You’ll move on, and I’ll be without a friend because she’ll refuse to talk to me. No, sorry, but you’re on your own with this one.”
I shake my head in disappointment. “And here I thought you were my brother.”
“Oh, I’m your brother, that’s why I’ll give you this piece of advice. Velyn’s not your typical college party girl—there’s more to her. Dylan, I’m serious when I say I’d rather you didn’t go for her, but if you decide to, at least take into consideration that maybe, just maybe, she could be more than just a fling.”
Taking the last bite of pizza, Chase heads to his room, leaving me with his one-sided words of wisdom.
“Not a party girl.” I laugh. “They’re all party girls.”
The party’s in full swing, and I’m sitting in my father’s study. I like to come in here now and then, so I can try and get a feel for the kind of power he has and other times just to escape the droves of people I’ve opened my doors to. I don’t know why I let Jordan talk me into throwing these things. I mean sure, freshman year and even up to last summer I was all into it; still am. But every weekend? It’s just getting old. I mean, what’s wrong with just having a few of the guys over, cooking up steaks on the barbeque and throwing back some beers? Hell, they can even bring their women if they have them; we could always use a clean-up crew.
I guess this is our final year, our last hoorah, so to speak. After June it’ll be time to play hardball with the big hitters, which means long lost will be the nights of squandered youth, replaced with long nights of mergers and last-minute deals. The thing is, coming into this room lately has made me realize that I’m scared shitless about the change.
“Douchebag, what the hell are you doing in here? Redhead just arrived. She’s not a twin, but she’s got a couple of really hot friends.”
I turn the chair to look at Jordan. “Do you ever just not want to do this?”
