“They’re here,” I said, and Kyle immediately scooted out of the booth and got up. I did the same, though the moment I laid eyes on Bree, my gut clenched.
Bree was not like her sister at all.
At. All.
She was shorter, and I could tell she was more withdrawn just by the way she walked, her shoulders slumped. Whereas her sister was a knockout with a smile that could push the Earth off its axis, she seemed more reserved and less prone to giggly fits—one which her sister was already in as she bounced toward Kyle, practically jumping on him as she planted a kiss on his lips.
Did I mention Bree had shockingly pink hair and bangs that looked like a first-grader had cut them? No? Because she did.
Yeah, definitely not my type. This was going to be a long-ass date.
Michelle slid into the booth, and Kyle sat on the outside. I supposed I should do the same with Bree, otherwise I’d be stuck staring at her sister all night—she was pretty, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t the kind of brother who constantly ogled his little brother’s girlfriend.
Bree stood before me, wearing dark leggings that hugged her thin legs, a pair of Vans shoes on her feet, and a dark grey shirt cut in a modest V-shape. Her pink hair was wavy, her eyes a light, pure green.
“Hi,” she whispered, her eyes traveling up and down my body once. “I’m Bree.” Her voice was so quiet I hardly heard her.
Should I, like, offer her a handshake or something? No, no that would be weird.
I settled for saying, “Calum.”
She said nothing else as she got into the booth, sliding into the corner and looking even smaller than she did before. How tall was she? Five feet? Damn, it’s a wonder she passed fifth grade. Bet if she went to the amusement park, she couldn’t even ride every roller coaster there.
I sat beside her, being careful to not sit too close to her. She definitely wasn’t my type, which I could’ve said going into this, especially when all Kyle could do to describe her was call her nice, but I had to look like I was giving her a try, otherwise I’d never hear the end of it. If I was a jerk right off the bat, he’d tell Mom, and Mom would get on my case. Not something I wanted.
I couldn’t help it if this date was shit from the get-go. I wasn’t in the right mind space for a date, and Bree was clearly not the kind of girl I’d normally go for.
Kyle and Michelle were busy talking amongst themselves, while Bree’s eyes were glued to the menu. She kept fiddling with the sleeves on her thin jacket, as if feeling immensely uncomfortable sitting beside me.
I said not a word to her as the minutes ticked by. The waiter came back around and took our order, along with bringing drinks for both girls. I really couldn’t wait for this date to be over with. Not that I was already counting down the minutes, but…
Okay, I definitely was.
God, and there was a movie after this? Shit.
“So,” Michelle’s voice broke the silence of the table, “Calum. Kyle says you work in tech or something?” She sipped her drink. Kyle’s arm rested behind her on the booth, and she settled back into it, looking like she fit perfectly beside him.
“Yeah, I’m in business with some friends—” The word was almost acidic on my tongue, for right now, Trent was nothing more than a bastard who’d slept with my girl. “—we design websites, work on security fixes for a few apps.”
“Interesting,” she said, though she said nothing else. Michelle held her arms on her lap, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes drift. She and Kyle were so close, having seen each other for most of their high school career. They already had more time together than Hilary and I did, and I wondered if they would remain together or not. It was hard to picture Kyle with any other girl.
I stared at the restaurant around us, at all the other filled booths and tables. It was a Friday night, so the restaurant grew busier by the minute. Soon enough this whole place would be full. The volume of noise in the place kept growing louder steadily, too.
I had no idea how much time passed before Kyle spoke to Bree, “Have you decided what you’re majoring in yet?”
Drawing my gaze away from the restaurant, I glanced to the girl beside me, watching as she squirmed in her seat. She shook her head, saying softly, “No. I…I still don’t know.” She didn’t sound confused about it; she sounded as if she truly didn’t care what she majored in. Bet she’d be one of the people who took up a job at a local retail establishment and constantly complained that their college degree did nothing.
Well, with no drive, of course that degree would be nothing more than a fancy piece of paper that would eventually do nothing but collect dust.
Hmm. Maybe that was harsh thinking.
Kyle’s next question: “Going to transfer, or keep going to SCC?” It was clear both he and Michelle were trying to keep up the conversation, because neither Bree nor I were particularly talkative.
Maybe I wasn’t her type, either. Hard to imagine not being a girl’s type, because I liked to think I was handsome and fit in the ways most girls liked, but I guess it wasn’t too far out of the question. I mean, look
