Chapter 5 The Friendly Counsel
the friendly counsel [trope]
a well-meaning friend or relative who doles out unsolicited but oddly insightful advice that leads the main character to an epiphany
Across the table at The Oak, filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the warmth of sunlight streaming through large windows, Paige practically vibrates with excitement, her bright brown eyes wide as she stares at me.
We do this every Saturday—though I sense today’s coffee fix will come with a side of romantic nonsense.
“Hold on a second,” she says in a hushed squeal.
Here we go.
“You asked out your lifelong crush,” she starts.
Quickly, I interject, “I didn’t ask him out. It was a ploy to leave the party.”
“He showered you with money.”
“Free money, technically,” I correct her.
“Then he said no to sex because he… wants to take things slow?”
I open my mouth to argue, but that part is pretty accurate.
“Scarlett.” She takes my hand over the table and squeezes. “Do you understand what’s happening?”
We just went through what’s happening, but I don’t think that’s what she means.
“You’re living in a romance book.”
“See, this is why I debated telling you,” I say, pulling my hand back and glancing around. The soft clinking of mugs and the murmur of other conversations offer some cover, but Paige’s voice still carries.
Quentin, behind the bar, waves, and I wave back. The last thing I need is my ex hearing about this.
“Are you kidding? The bet, the secret identity, the nickname—and his shoes? His shoes, Scarlett.” She’s nearly bouncing in her seat, her waves bobbing with the motion. “He’s a classic book boyfriend.”
“How come when I say that a crime book is coming to life, I’m crazy, but when you compare my life to a romance book—”
“Because one is about love and the other is about murder.”
“Hmm.” I sip my cappuccino, savoring the rich foam on my lips. “I wouldn’t get all worked up if I were you.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because, Paige!”
She shakes her head like she doesn’t get it.
With a groan, I slump back in the chair. I’m tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. “I don’t fall in love. Especially not with Rafael Gray.”
She waves me off. “You’ve been in love with Rafael Gray for half of your life.”
“That was before—” I clamp my lips shut, but she knows.
Before my parents died. Before my grandparents dumped me, before Quentin and I broke up, before my brother vanished from my life.
Before a lot of things happened. “He’s never been interested, Paige.
And now I’m supposed to believe he’s head over heels for me? ”
She blinks. “Five years ago. He maybe wasn’t into you five years ago.”
“He also said that thing about how he’s trouble.” When she drops her forehead to the table, I insist, “Seriously, who says that? It’s crazy.”
“No. Fighting so hard against something that’s clearly meant to be— that’s crazy.”
“I don’t believe in destiny.”
“So how do you explain him being at the only party you’ve been at in years?”
“Easy,” I say, then take a sip of cappuccino. “Small-town life.”
“And what the psychic said?”
Oh, for Chrissake. “She’s a psychic.” When her brown eyes pin me in place as if my rebuttal is somehow not valid, I offer, “She also said Gray has a black heart.”
With an eye roll, she blows on her coffee. “Just tell me last night wasn’t the most fun you’ve ever had with a man, and I’ll let this go.”
I pause. I can’t do that, can I?
Last night was effortless. Like hanging out with a friend, but with a spark of unprecedented excitement.
He knew exactly when to fill the silence and when to let me marinate in my thoughts.
He didn’t press too hard, didn’t try to impress me with over-the-top antics or charm.
Instead, he just was. And somehow that was enough. More than enough.
“You do like him!” Paige practically shouts as she kicks her feet under the table.
“Shh.” The smile grows despite my attempts to contain it. “I…”
“I knew it! I just knew it!”
“Seriously—shh!” I hiss, casting a glance around. I catch Quentin’s eyes again. “I’m not saying I like him, Paige. He’s just…”
The guy who got into fights, but only with bullies.
The guy who always carried food around for the stray dog that used to hang around outside school, who actually bothered talking to the weird janitor everyone avoided.
Yes, he liked to break the rules, but there was so much more to him, and there still is.
“Different,” I mumble. He’s unlike anyone else I’ve ever met.
“I’ll take it.” She leans forward, her expression triumphant. “Rafael Gray. Who would have thought, after all this time?”
Not me. That was a closed chapter in my mind. In fact, it’s been years since I thought about him last. Well, maybe months. Or weeks.
“Who knows, maybe this’ll inspire your upcoming romance adventure.”
’Cause there’s nothing more romantic than a guy rejecting you twice. “Don’t even remind me of that. Celeste will be expecting a script soon.”
She barely acknowledges me. “When are you seeing him?”
“I don’t know.” I run my finger along the rim of my coffee cup, tracing the foam left behind. “I guess our paths are bound to cross—you know, since we’re neighbors.”
“Secret identity remains an unparalleled trope,” she says, pulling her curls back. “Nothing like a little mystery to start off an epic love story.”
Love, romance. Only the thought gives me shivers.
I can see it play out like a carousel in my mind.
Rafael and me hanging out more and more, spending the night together, getting acquainted with each other’s presence.
And then something goes wrong, and suddenly I’m left there wondering at which stop Rafael got off and why my train is crashing at full speed against a brick wall.
The mere idea sets my heart pounding with dread.
“This is why I don’t like romance,” I grumble, sinking back into my seat.
Paige takes a big bite of her donut. “Because you care about something?”
“No,” I say, narrowing my eyes at her. “Because it takes over your brain and turns you into a mush of silliness. ‘When will I meet him?’ ‘What should I say?’ ” I mock, rolling my eyes. “Gross.”
“What’s gross?” a familiar voice says as someone plops down next to me.
I turn to see Theo, his usual friendly expression in place. “Hey, stranger. What are you doing here?”
“On my way to pick Vanessa up. We’re playing football.” He leans forward and snatches Paige’s donut, taking an obnoxiously large bite.
Paige immediately starts smacking his shoulder in protest. “Hey! Go play sports with my girlfriend and leave my donut alone!”
“I need my energy,” he says, turning his attention back to me, Paige still grumbling about her donut. “So? What’s gross?”
“Dating,” I answer, hiding a frown behind my cup.
His brows knit together behind the frames of his glasses. “You’re dating someone?”
“No!” I blurt out, far too loudly. “No, of course not.”
“Rafael Gray is back,” Paige interjects.
“Gray, huh?” I keep my gaze on my cup as Theo’s eyes search my face. “You too?”
Yep. Me too. I was one of hundreds of girls who were head over heels for Rafael Gray. I wonder if now that he’s back in town, women will start falling at his feet again.
“She had a crush on him by the time she was nine. And she never quite shook it off until she was eighteen.”
Twenty, actually.
“Wait.” Theo’s head bobs from me to the bar. “I thought… Didn’t you date Quentin? They’re cousins, right?”
“I did, yes,” I say, eyeing him behind the counter.
“It’s not like I ever really thought Rafael would give me the time of day,” I explain.
“You know the type of girls he used to date.” Older, stunning, edgy.
A far cry from the younger bookworm next door.
“Quentin was the first guy who asked me out, and I was seventeen, and…” I slowly close my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“No, I get it,” Theo says. “Teenager shit.”
“Tell him about The Incident,” Paige teases.
Shoulders dropping, I glare at her.
He gasps, straightening on the chair. “What incident?”
“The Incident,” she coos.
Goddamn it. If I don’t say it, she will, and she has a flair for the dramatic. “It’s not that bad,” I try, but it doesn’t sound convincing. “Remember on Paige’s eighteenth birthday, when a bunch of us got drunk for the first time?”
“Peach schnapps,” Paige says with a grimace as Theo mock-shivers.
“Everyone was talking about their boyfriends, how they were so happy, so in love…” I wave a hand around.
“And it dawned on me that I was just dating Quentin because he’d asked, while I was actually still very much into his cousin.
So in my drunkenness, I might have”—I shrug—“told Rafael how I felt about him.”
“Oof. You drunk-dialed?”
Paige snickers. “She drunk-penned, actually.”
“I wrote him a rambling love letter,” I explain, “and put it in his mailbox.”
Theo hisses through his teeth. “Noooo,” he drawls. “What did he say?”
My awkward smile falters. “Uh, he moved away, actually.” I try to swallow through the sudden tightness in my throat. “I mean, I know it wasn’t because of my letter, but…” But it felt like it. Irrationally, it still does.
One month later, my parents were gone, too. I was left withdrawing my enrollment from the university and searching for a job. Quentin and I broke up, my brother moved out, and I learned words like escrow and estate.
“Anyway, that’s it,” I say, attempting a casual shrug, though I feel like a frayed thread. “That’s the entire story.”
“I bet you Rafael never even got the letter,” Paige says, her mouth full of donut. Noticing my skeptical look, she insists, “In romance books, the love interest always misses the letter.”
“So now that he’s back, you want to pick things up where you left off?” Theo asks.
“They went on a date yesterday.”
“It wasn’t a date,” I scold.
“She offered to hook up and he said he wants to take things slow.”
“Paige!”
Theo turns back to me. “Damn. Gray? I’m pretty sure the guy came up with one-night stands.”