Chapter 6
OLIVIA
NOW
“So… Are we just going to pretend it’s a regular occurrence for me to walk in and find you embracing a beautiful man in the middle of our living room?” Callie asks. “Or are you going to tell me what the deal is with Mr. John Brandt immediately?”
As per John’s advice, I tell Callie what’s mostly true: “Johnny is someone I’ve known my whole life because he’s my brother’s best friend.
I hadn’t seen him in years, and he just showed up at the restaurant today to ask me out.
” Which is essentially all there is to it.
Maybe he was right—by the time we get to Cleveland, it might feel real.
More likely by then he will have driven me so batshit crazy that I won’t know the difference between fantasy and reality.
“Really?” My roommate looks at me with more amusement than skepticism.
“You don’t honestly think I’m going to let you get away with that tiny breadcrumb, do you?
I walked in on a goddamn meme. It was like, Oh, it was just a hug.
And then you see the hug, and it’s, like, Heathcliff’s and Cathy’s souls making love to each other on the moor. ”
“Pah! I wish.” OMG. That’s totally what it felt like. “Today was honestly the first time I’ve seen him in half a decade. He just showed up out of the blue because my brother asked him to check up on me.” I shrug. “You want tea? I’m gonna boil water for tea.”
“Oh, honey. I want all the tea. That man is a ten. He’s a ten times ten. Why are you acting like it’s no big deal?”
“Because it’s Johnny. It’s not a big deal.
” After filling the electric kettle, I start telling her about what a nerd he was growing up and how much time he spent at our house when I was a kid.
“His parents were workaholics. For real. Probably still are. They were never home, so he’d sleep over on weekends more often than not.
We celebrated his birthday when Nathan had his parties because John’s parents were always too busy to throw their son a party of his own,” I say.
“But he never complained about them, as far as I know. Once, he got the flu, and when my mom found out he was home alone, she went to pick him up and brought him to our place and made him soup.”
Callie’s hands are covering her heart, and she’s making the noise she makes when we look at videos of baby animals on Instagram. “Awwww! Now I want to make him soup.”
I don’t want her to get attached to the idea of him, so I get into the other stuff.
“It’s not all pathos. When he and my brother turned thirteen, they spent most of the time in the basement, but we only had one TV in the house, so there were a lot of arguments and subsequent retaliatory hijinks related to what to watch. ”
“And? That’s literally what it’s like for anyone in a house with other kids.”
I tell her about the time he tried to explain the mathematics of classical music to me, and I explained how much I hated his inability to experience music viscerally by pouring a can of root beer onto his head. I was grounded for a week, but it was so worth it, shutting him up for five minutes.
“Gosh, O. The way you talk about him, it sounds like you barely even liked him.”
“No, I did. I liked him. He was always very neat and tidy when he shared our bathroom, so that was a plus. And he helped me with my math homework most of the time without me having to ask.” He didn’t help me so much as he’d see me struggling with it and just do my homework for me while barking out basic mathematical rules that he could not believe I didn’t comprehend.
“He’s just a nerd, you know. But he’s changed. ”
“Uh, yeah. He’s changed into a nerd who’s made billions of dollars. He’s a ten times one hundred million.”
I look over and realize she’s staring at her laptop. “Are you Googling him? Don’t Google him!”
“Why not? He’s highly Googleable. He has a Wikipedia page,” she says. “No way—he founded Brainy Biz?! My cousin used that to get funding for the app he developed. I knew I recognized his name. He’s a big deal! A huge deal. He’s an actual billionaire. Why aren’t you more excited?”
“I am,” I say. “I’m just… It’s still so new. He’s so different from the guys I usually date.”
“Yeah, he’s not a cocky shithead.”
“Oh, he’s cocky in his own way, trust me.”
“What, you think he’s not good enough for you just because he’s not an artist? Give me a break. It’s not like you’re the first beauty to date a nerd, you know,” she says.
“Not counting John Hughes movies?”
“Hello—Miranda Kerr married that guy who cofounded Snapchat.”
“Who’s Miranda Kerr?” I ask.
“The Victoria’s Secret model. She has a line of organic beauty products? She’s one of the richest supermodels in the world. She was married to Orlando Bloom?”
“Who?”
“Oh my God. Who’s the nerd?”
“I’m not a nerd,” I say. “I’m just too busy to read about celebrity gossip.”
“I don’t read celebrity gossip either—this is stuff that people know just from being alive and having an internet connection.” She types something on her laptop and stares at the screen. “Uhhhh…”
“What?”
“Your new boyfriend has dated a supermodel. Did you not know this?”
Oh, hell no. “First of all, I wouldn’t call him my boyfriend yet, and secondly, I don’t need to know about his past relationships.”
“Probably better if you don’t,” she says.
“Why? Who is she? Let me see.”
Callie turns the laptop so I can’t see it. “I don’t think you want to. It looks like they dated for a few months a year ago…”
Must have been another fake relationship.
“I don’t care—just let me see!”
I go over to where she’s sitting on the couch, pull the laptop away from her, and experience all kinds of unexpected feelings as I stare, gaping at dozens of photos of Johnny with a supernaturally stunning woman.
In every picture, she’s looking at him like she’s in awe of him—and not like I can’t believe you just said that kind of awe, but like Wow, you are so amazing.
“Montana Reed? What kind of bullshit name is that?”
“The kind that gets listed on Maxim’s Hot 100.”
“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds sexist.”
“It is, and you need to face facts: You’re the nerd in this Beauty and the Nerd relationship. Because that man is freaking beautiful.”
“Yes, he’s very photogenic.”
“Hold up! He did a TED Talk!”
“About what? How to have piercing blue eyes and drive your best friend’s little sister insane?”
She smiles. “Let’s watch and find out!”
“Oh, no. I don’t want to watch it,” I say, waving my hand dismissively. “That would be weird.”
“Suit yourself.”
A day later, I’ve been at work for two hours, and I can’t stop thinking about Johnny’s TED Talk.
If I hadn’t known him personally before watching it, I would have instantly fallen in love with him.
His topic was “How to Leverage Your Weaknesses.” He spoke about what led him to develop Brainy Biz and how he and this company have helped millions of individuals and companies connect and prosper by forcing them to become aware of their own quirks and branding themselves by calling attention to what makes them different, as opposed to familiar.
There was a moment where he referred to “someone I grew up with, who has always been a friendly critic of my own particular shortcomings.” He said that he’s grateful to this person for helping him to see himself from another perspective, and rather than change who he is—as long as it’s not harming anyone—he has learned to change how he interacts with people.
“For the most part.” He had this poignant smile on his face when he was talking about “this person,” and I just fucking know he was talking about me, and I love it.
I’m both touched to find out that I’ve been such a significant person in his life and also annoyed that it never occurred to him to tell me this directly.
He was somewhat self-effacing in the TED Talk.
He said he realized that he sounded like a deep-learning, artificially intelligent robot, but it was like when someone made a joke about himself on a first date.
It was charming, and you didn’t read into it until it was too late.
At the end of the talk, the camera showed all the women in the audience applauding him like he was Deep-Learning Robot Elvis.
“Um, O?”
I snap out of it and look over to see Tara, the hostess, heading toward me. There is an enormous flower arrangement where her torso should be.
She manages to poke her head around a peony. “Hi. This just came for you. I signed for it, but there’s nowhere to put it out front. You’ll have to leave it in the break room. I think I have a hernia, so just let me know who to send the hospital bill to.”
“Oh, God. I’ll take that!” I say. “And I have a feeling the person who sent this can afford to buy you a hospital.”
I cradle the large vase in my arms and manage to rest it on one hip so I can get to the back without knocking anyone or anything over.
This is the Johnniest romantic gesture ever.
Of course, he wouldn’t even stop to consider what the hell I’m supposed to do with a forty-pound vase of flowers at work.
Not that I’m ungrateful. Not that I don’t find it incredibly adorable that he did this.
Although it might have been one of his assistants.
The arrangement is stunning, and it includes every type of flower that I love and none that I don’t.
It would be perfect if it weren’t such a fucking pain in the ass.
Kind of like Johnny.
“It’s from Hot Guy, isn’t it?” Tara says, grinning.
“Um. Probably. Thank you.” He obviously had his assistant send it for him.
Milo doesn’t offer to help me carry this gorgeous monstrosity; he just whispers, “Hate you even more now!” under his breath as he passes me by.
There’s a bench in the middle of the small break room, but I don’t want anyone to knock the flowers over, so I place them on the floor in a corner, by the trash bin.
When I pull out my phone to text Johnny to thank him, I see that he has sent me a text asking if I’ve received the flowers he sent me.
ME
Just now! So beautiful! Thank you! I love them.
JOHNNY
I can have my driver pick you up after work to help you get them home. Just realized you’ll have to carry them ten blocks.
ME
Is your driver in the area?
JOHNNY
No, he’s in Palo Alto, but he’s free for a couple of hours before he has to pick me up and bring me to you for dinner.
ME
I can carry it. It’s fine!
JOHNNY
I should have another arrangement sent to your home. You can leave that one at the restaurant.
ME
There really isn’t room here. It’s fine! Thank you again.
JOHNNY
Did you see the card?
ME
No. It’s so big. It could be hiding in there somewhere, I guess.
JOHNNY
That’s what she said.
ME
That’s…kind of funny?
JOHNNY
Well, it is not ideal if you don’t find the card. It was supposed to say, You may continue monetizing your vlogs now.
ME
You talked to Louisa?!
JOHNNY
Yes. She should be calling to let you know. But the card was the whole point of the flowers.
ME
Why didn’t you just text me?
JOHNNY
Because I was being romantic.
I have to take a call now.
Bye.
Oh my God. He is such a dork. Just as I’m about to put my phone away, I get a call from Callie.
“What’s up? I gotta check on my salmon order,” I say.
“Um. There’s someone in our apartment.”
“What?! Call the police!”
“No, I mean, she’s cleaning. Everything. She says your boyfriend sent her.”
My brain freezes. “Huh?”
“Your boyfriend. John Brandt.”
“Oh, right! Sorry. I completely forgot about that. He told me he’d send his housekeeper, and I forgot to tell you. Do you want me to ask her to leave?”
“No, I want you to have him send her every week! Every day if possible,” Callie says. “I also want her to adopt me. She made me an iced coffee that’s better than Starbucks! I’m gonna drink iced coffee until I get iced diarrhea. Actually, I shouldn’t because the bathroom’s so clean.”
“Hanging up now—bye.”
I call John’s cell phone, expecting to leave a message, but he answers on the first ring.
“Olivia?” He sounds concerned. I can hear people talking in the background.
“Did you give your housekeeper my key?”
“I had a copy made for her,” he says. “I told you I would.”
“You can’t just make copies of my house key and give them to people I don’t know!”
“Olivia, I’m about to step into a meeting. Is there a real problem that you need to discuss with me?”
“Well…not really. No.”
“Great. So, we’re on for dinner tonight?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven. Pack an overnight bag. We’ll be staying at my place tonight. You’ll be in the guest room.”
“Okay.”
“Wear something tasteful and elegant but casual to dinner. Try not to be so attractive that Phil’s wife will feel intimidated.”
“Roger that.”
He hangs up.
Two hours later, I manage to get the flower arrangement home without tripping, running into anyone, falling, or dropping it.
There’s space for it on the kitchen counter because Johnny’s housekeeper organized all of our random flyers and takeout menus and magazines and notepapers into lovely, intentional piles.
The apartment looks a thousand times better than it did when I left this morning, and I feel like my life is now several levels up from mediocre. Not that it was ever mediocre.