Chapter 9 #2
When Richard pulls up in front of the restaurant, John gets out to open the car door for me and holds out his hand. I take it and watch him stare down at my legs. Hungrily. I emerge from the back seat. Languidly.
We hold hands as we walk into the restaurant, his fingers comfortably entwined in mine, as if we do this all the time.
He suddenly stops in his tracks when we enter the waiting area. I tell him I’m going to the ladies’ room to dry off my dress, but he pulls me back. “Hang on a second…” He lets go of my hand and reaches into his pocket for his phone. Yet again. “Are you following me on Instagram and X yet?”
“Uh, no. Why would I be on X? I’m not fifty. You’re on Instagram?”
“Why wouldn’t I be on Instagram? You’ve seen how good-looking I am.” He gives me a wry smile. “You should follow me on IG. Search my name—I’m verified.”
“As Johnny B. Nerdballs?”
“No, my handle is TinyDancerNeedsASpanking,” he says, without glancing up at me or missing a beat.
I’m so stunned and turned on that I can’t even move my mouth to tell him that’s too many letters.
“Wait. Let me take a picture first.” He holds his phone up to take a picture of us leaning in, touching cheekbones. A totally natural usie. He politely shows me the shot and asks me if I sign off on it before posting it on Instagram. “I follow you,” he informs me. “I’m tagging you. Get ready.”
“Get ready for what?”
“You’ll see.”
When I find his profile on Instagram, I see that he has over seven hundred thousand followers, and it makes sixteen-year-old Me angry.
“By the way, Louisa Boehmer follows me on Instagram, so we’ll post a lot of good pictures of you.”
The artistic director of my ballet company follows him on Instagram. Jeez Louisa. Who are you, and what did you do with Johnny B. Nerdballs?
Our dining companions are surprisingly pleasant.
Phil is around forty, fit, mostly bald, very nice, and super into Johnny—in a businesslike way.
Teresa is under thirty, very well groomed, fuchsia lipped, and smiley.
It’s difficult for me to pay attention to these lovely people because Johnny’s hand has either been holding mine on the tabletop or gently resting on my thigh in a way that is intimate but not at all inappropriate, given that the newlyweds across from us are also physically comfortable with each other.
He has transformed into Mr. Double Date. He is somehow always attentive to me and our hosts. Smiling and chatting casually in a way that I have never witnessed before. It’s like he flipped a switch.
I suppose I’m staring at John a little too intently while he talks to Mr. Investor Guy about investmenty things, because Mrs. Investor Guy waves her hand in front of my face to get my attention.
She wrinkles her nose while grinning at me. “How did you two meet?”
“Oh, I’ve known him my whole life, really.”
“No! You’re so lucky. I have so many single girlfriends who are dying to meet him.”
“Really? You mean women in Houston?” I look over at John, who’s giving Phil his full attention, or so it seems. He squeezes my thigh.
“Houston. Austin. Here. New York. I have friends all over who know about him. You do realize he’s famous, right?! How long have you been dating? I didn’t realize he wasn’t single.”
“We just reconnected quite recently, actually. He’s been my brother’s best friend forever. But this is new.”
John waits for Phil to finish his sentence and then says to Teresa, “It’s new for Olivia, but not for me.” He takes my hand in his, tilting his head to gaze at me. “I’ve had a crush on her for as long as I can remember.”
I don’t even recognize his voice as he says this, but he doesn’t deliver these lines like he’s reading a script.
“She had no idea, and I kept it hidden from my best friend. I tried to forget about her, but as you can see, she’s…
unforgettable.” He lifts my hand to his lips, kisses it, places it back on the tabletop, stroking it with his thumb.
Then he lets go to reach for his water glass and turns his attention back to Phil.
When I’m finally able to find my voice, I ask Teresa, “Um. How did you and your husband meet?”
“I contacted him on Twitter.”
“Really?”
She nods.
“So it was love at first tweet?”
“I wish. I practically stalked him for a year. He finally agreed to meet me for a cup of coffee in between meetings, but…we’ve been together ever since,” she says.
“It took him forever to propose, though. They just need to be tied down. I really don’t know if you understand how lucky you are.
I have girlfriends who applied to a matchmaking service in Sausalito specifically because they’re hoping to be set up with your boyfriend.
But apparently he won’t even sign up for it. ”
So, he wasn’t kidding about the matchmaking service.
I can’t stop thinking about what John said, wondering if he really had a crush on me.
At this dinner, I learn that he has two offices in Palo Alto—one at Brainy Biz headquarters, where he is still an advisor, and one at his venture capital firm, which is called General Relativity Ventures.
Where he employs thirty people. He is cautious about rapid growth and scaling too fast, he says.
His ambitions are tempered by a desire to one day have a family, he says, reaching for my hand again.
I have to wonder why he’s trying to impress this upon Mr. Investor Guy.
Does John need to convince him that he’s a well-rounded guy, like with the guy in England?
It doesn’t seem like Phil needs any more incentive to do business with John.
Surely he isn’t trying to impress me by saying that.
He must know that I can’t start a family until I’ve retired from dancing.
Surely he doesn’t plan to have a family with me one day.
Surely this twinge of emotion I’m feeling is sympathy for the woman he ends up with and not jealousy…
Thankfully, I don’t have to follow that train of thought because a well-dressed young man who’s around my age approaches our table hesitantly, shaking John’s hand and thanking him because Brainy Biz helped him score a great job.
It seems I’m the last person in the Bay Area to realize what a catch John Brandt is.
When Teresa excuses herself to the ladies’ room and John and Phil are busy chatting about whatever it is wealthy investors chat about, I take a moment to check my phone. I have over three hundred new followers on Instagram and a DM from Milo.
MILO
I super hate you. You look fire in that dress. But I still hate you. Also, yay!
And I have another text from my brother.
NATHAN
I know this isn’t about me, but this is very weird for me.
I write him back:
Trust me, it’s weird for me too.
He immediately replies, which is rare.
NATHAN
Weird in a good way?
ME
Too early to tell.
I want to ask John about what he said to Teresa.
But saying the words What you said about your feelings about me out loud tonight would be like trying to do a grand jeté tournant in a level-one ballet class.
I had to work up to that. I had to learn progressions first. Basic grand jeté, strong pirouette, sauté arabesque.
And those were just the foundation skills.
I’m not even capable of telling this person that I had a crush on him when I was a toddler.
So. Baby steps. In my sexy nude heels.