Betting on the Brainiac: a Sweet Romantic Comedy

17. Chapter Seventeen

When I wake up midmorning Sunday to the smell of bacon and grilled onion, I know Josh is here cooking up omelets.

That’s all it takes to get me out of bed an hour earlier than usual after a Gatsby’s shift. I throw on something that doesn’t smell bad when I snag it from a chair in my room and head down for brunch.

“Besties,” I say, blinking at them through bleary eyes, “I am delighted to see you all here.” I barely get the last word out through a huge yawn.

“Feeling your love deeply.” Sami’s tone is dry as she leans against the counter near Josh while he cracks eggs.

“I can yawn and still love you. I love you so much that I got up early to see you.”

“You got up early for an omelet,” Ava says before sipping from her mug of green tea.

“Loving bacon as much as I love you doesn’t mean I love you less,” I tell her. “It just means I love y’all a lot.”

Sami snags a piece of bacon and chews. “As much as bacon.” She nods. “I’m honored.”

Ruby is out on the patio, curled up on the love seat, her back to us.

I lower my voice. “I didn’t get to talk to her much yesterday. She was coming as I was leaving. How’s she doing?”

Ava sighs. “Weekends will be the hardest for a while. That’s when she and Niles hung out the most. She was okay yesterday because she had to work, but she has too much thinking time today.”

“I need y’all to fix her.” Josh peers out through the window over the sink. “It’s pitiful, and it’s bringing me down.”

“Babe, are you trying to say your heart is breaking for her, and you don’t like it?” Sami asks.

“That’s exactly what I said in bro speak.” Josh beats the eggs with a fork, while Sami gives his arm a gentle rub.

“It’s going to take time,” Ava says.

“What do we do, Sami?” I ask.

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re the only one who’s been through an intense breakup. What helps?”

“I withered until I was a former shell of myself going through the motions of my life, so I’m probably the wrong person to ask.”

Josh puts down the bowl of eggs and hugs her. “You poor desiccated thing.”

She pinches his side, and he drops a kiss on her pink-streaked hair before going back to his omeleting. Sami is tiny and feisty, and while she did have a pretty introverted year after her college breakup, she’s found a lot of healing in performing breakup anthems as her rock goddess alter ego and front woman for the band.

“Let’s play to our strengths here,” I say. “Josh, you put extra cheese and bacon on Ruby’s omelet. Also, sue Niles for wasting five years of Ruby’s time. Sami, you write an angry breakup song about Niles, and feel free to use the line ‘it’s no shocker you dumped the guy in Dockers,’”—this makes Josh snort, but Sami gives a thoughtful frown and reaches for the notepad on the fridge—“and Ava, do some science.”

“Do some science?” she repeats. “Could you be more specific?”

“Mix up some chemicals in your lab that will block all the sad feelings and then we could make Ruby take it?”

“You just described Ecstasy,” Ava says. “There’s an entire branch of federal law enforcement dedicated to me not making that in my lab.”

“Excuse me, Dr. Kincade. I thought you were a heart specialist. Seems like this would be your wheelhouse.” I know what Ava’s actual research is, so she takes my teasing for what it is and rolls her eyes.

Ava sighs and looks at Sami. “She’s impossible, right? It’s not just me?”

“She’s impossible,” Sami confirms.

“Excuse me for trying to help,” I say, flopping down in a chair. “I didn’t realize asking you to mix up potions in your beakers would be such a big deal.”

“Potions? Am I a witch now?” Ava asks, her voice mild.

I straighten, grinning. “That’s it! A witch. I bet Stella would know a good ritual for this, something Ruby could do that would help her feel more . . . done?”

“She loves traditions, and traditions are a form of ritual,” Sami says. “A breakup ritual isn’t a bad idea.”

Josh flips the omelet in his pan. “Stella is a witch?”

Stella lives on the other side of the pool and three doors down.

“She’s a professor of women’s studies at UT, and she did her dissertation on gender and witchcraft,” I explain. “She doesn’t have a broomstick or anything, but she’ll tell you that there’s science to back up some of the claims made by what cultures have historically called witchcraft.”

“You should ask her about it next time you see her around, Josh,” Ava tells him. “It’s pretty fascinating.”

“You also believe in witchcraft?” Josh asks this cautiously, like he’s wondering if he’s wandered into a coven that might turn on him.

“Of course not,” Ava says. “But a lot of native healing practices and herblore does have solid science backing it. Like aspirin. Native Americans discovered it. It comes in childproof bottles now, but they used to brew it from the bark of a willow tree.”

“The way Stella puts it,” Sami adds, “witchcraft is often the name that people give to things that work when they don’t understand why.”

“We should burn you as a witch,” I tell Ava.

“Because I understand science?”

“Because you have red hair, duh.”

“Facts,” Josh says, setting an omelet in front of me. “What are you contributing to this Ruby recovery plan, Madison?”

I take a bite and consider this. I could drag Ruby out for a night on the town and make her have fun against her will. But even when she’s in a good place, “going out” isn’t her first choice. However, my specialty is bringing the party, so that’s what we’ll do.

“Sam-Sam, your birthday is Wednesday, yes?”

Sami nods. “It is.”

“Do you have a show tonight?”

“No,” she says more carefully as she realizes I have a point.

“How about we have a movie party?” I ask. “Ruby won’t do it if we propose it for no reason, but if we tell her it’s a birthday thing for you . . .”

Ava shakes her head. “She’s not going to be in the mood.”

“I know. But I think we’ve been enabling her.” I point my fork at Ava to emphasize my next point. “She needs to remember that not only is it possible to have a good day without Niles, any day is better without Niles.”

“Truth,” Sami says.

“So we can hijack your birthday for a worthy cause?” I ask.

“Do it.”

“Yes! We’ll save Stella for next weekend if Ruby isn’t showing signs of improvement. Today, we party. Oh, except I’m working at the store until 4:00, so let’s make it ‘tonight we party.’ Does that work?”

When they all agree to give it a shot, I clap my hands. “Good. Now let me eat my omelet in peace while I meditate on these party plans.”

“We should probably invite Charlie,” Ava says.

This immediately gives me another good idea. “Oooh, ask if she cares if we invite Oliver too. Hint that it was my idea, and if she thinks I’m interested in him, it might make her forget about Niles for a while.”

Ava looks iffy on this. “Joey kind of still hates Oliver on principle.”

“Because you guys went out twice?” I ask. “It’s not that big a deal.”

“No, because I kissed him.”

Record scratch . . .

I blink at her. She kissed Oliver?

“Did you know this?” Sami asks me.

“No.” I can picture it easily though. These two adorable dorks, steaming up each other’s glasses. I stab a piece of omelet. “Probably because it was a bad kiss.”

“No, he has excellent technique,” Ava says. “But . . .”

I choke on a piece of egg at the idea of Oliver having “excellent technique.”

“But you were too gone on Joey?” Sami asks as she gives me a couple of hard pats to help me with choking.

“Yes.” Ava smiles. “Equal technique, but when you add in the chemistry . . .”

Oliver has equal kissing technique to Joey, one of Austin’s most eligible bachelors until he realized he’d fallen for Ava? And that’s an objective statement because Joey was one of ten guys named in a massively upvoted post in the biggest Austin subreddit. There had been a slew of crying emojis when Joey had posted he was removing his name from contention because he’d found “the other half of his heart.” It was so un-Joey in every way except one—the changed man that was Joey with Ava.

“Go talk Ruby into this,” I say. “Joey will have to get over himself.”

Ava thought Joey’s kissing technique was on par with Oliver’s? Does not compute. I can’t even imagine it.

But what it does do is make me think about my mysterious kiss on Friday night for the hundredth time. This morning.

Technique? Dang. I’ve been reliving it since the elevator doors closed and left me with the image of his kiss-swollen lips.

I’d waited for him to find me later, but as the evening wore on and last call was announced, I hadn’t seen him again. I’d begun scanning over the balcony when I got a spare moment, but I didn’t see him anywhere below either.

Instead of disappointment, I’d felt intrigued. I’m free with my kisses, and I’ve had more than enough to know a really good kiss when I experience it. They’re rare, and that had been a good one.

My skin warmed thinking about turning to find the masked guy there, that perfect amount of five o’clock shadow lining the strong jaw below his mask, his unsmiling mouth as he watched me and waited to see how I would react to his hand.

It took less than half a spin to recognize that this was a man who knew how to handle a woman on the dance floor. When that had evolved into my back against his solid chest, his breath steady like all the looks and touches between us hadn’t been sharpening his senses to a fine point?

I’d issued a challenge of my own, pulled him in for a kiss to teach him a lesson.

When we’d come up for air, my nerve endings on fire, my hands greedy to explore more of him, I wasn’t sure who had been schooled. I was only sure that he wasn’t calm, cool, and collected anymore, and the deep satisfaction of being the one to spark that fire had me pulling him toward me again.

“Madi?”

I blink and look at my roommates—including Ruby now—who are all staring at me, Ava in puzzlement, Ruby in confusion, and Sami with narrowed eyes.

“What were you thinking about?” she asks. “Your eyes went dreamy.”

I tap my fork against my plate, trying to decide if I want to answer.

Ha. Like they’ll give me a choice. I scoop up a bite of omelet and answer before I eat it. “This dead sexy guy who salsa-ed with me like he’s the second coming of Tito Puente.”

“Better than my dad?” Ruby asks.

Mr. Ramos had taught us all to salsa, making Ruby’s brothers dance with us when Ruby let us tag along for Ramos family gatherings. There were many, and we tagged along a lot, so I know how it’s going to land when I say it, but I have to tell the truth.

“Better than your dad.”

Three gasps.

“As Grandma Letty would say, ‘Men are as useless as gum on a boot heel but tell us more.’”

I pretend I’m having a hard time recalling the details. “Like what? When he kissed me?”

“I was hoping for a description of what he looked like,” Ava says, “but yeah, definitely skip to the kissing.”

“But then come back to the looks part,” Ruby says.

“Not sure I can tell you much,” I admit. “He was wearing a mask.”

“Oooh,” Sami says. Of course she’d be the one most invested in that detail. She performs in a mask.

“That is dead sexy,” Josh says. Sami shoots him a grin. “But I could definitely tell some important things about Sami even when she was in a mask, so you better spill.”

“Are you one of the girls now, Josh?” I ask, amused that he’s demanding the same details we always try to get out of each other.

“Duh.” His eye roll is redundant.

“What he said.” Ava is now in full data-gathering mode.

“He’s tall,” I say. “Still had three inches on me when I was in my heels. Good build.”

“Clarify,” Josh says. “What does that mean? I still haven’t figured out your type.”

“I investigated his upper body as a service to the ladies who had me fetch him, and he has great muscles. Lean but solid.”

The girls nod. I tell them stories from my job all the time. Muscle inspection is a regular part of my schtick with tables of women. It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.

“Eyes? Hair?” Ruby demands, and I’m glad she’s invested in this enough to not be miserable for a few minutes.

“Too dark to see eye color, and hard to say on hair but the darker side of brown. Good cut.”

“What was he wearing?” Sami asks, since she’s the Dolce to my Gabbana when it comes to fashion.

“More classic than trendy. Gray jacket, black pants, definitely tailored, half boots. High-end.” I don’t know if Armstrongs are born with the ability to assess quality in a glance, or if we learn because we’re immersed in it from childhood, but I can tell by the cut of a garment what kind of quality it is. If you blindfold me and hand me any item of clothing, I can tell the same thing by touch.

“You are all asking dumb questions,” Ava says. “Madi, the kiss.”

There’s an intensity in the question, and suddenly, I don’t want to answer it, because the truth is that “the kiss” hadn’t been rare—it had been singular.

As in I’ve never had another one like it.

As in . . .

As in I’m not sure I’m ready to fully process this.

“I’m running out of ways to describe kissing to you.” I pause to cover a yawn, a fake one, but I keep it small so they’ll buy it. “Is everybody in for tonight? I need snack requests by 4:00 if you want me to grab anything on my way home.” I stand, torn between trying to shovel the rest of the delicious omelet into my mouth or escaping before they try to pin me down on the kissing.

Escape. Definitely. I drop my plate in the sink without washing it and head for the stairs, something I would normally never do, but . . .

“Madi?” Ruby calls.

I pause. “Yeah?”

“Do you still want me to invite Oliver?”

Oh, right. I forgot I’m supposed to be hinting that I’m interested in him to distract her.

“For sure. But I’ll do it. No big deal,” I say it fast to make it seem like I’m trying to hide that it’s a big deal. It’s a nice touch. Go, me.

Doing a movie party for my roommate’s birthday but it’s low-key to cheer up Ruby. You should come with Charlie. How are the cats?

I hit send and toss my phone on my bed. Maybe the one perk to the mask guy disappearing is that I never gave him my number, so I don’t have to torture myself wondering when he’s going to use it.

Instead, I get to torture myself by wondering when he’ll come find me again.

As silver linings go, it kinda blows.