Chapter 10
Marie stormed through the door of our apartment, slamming it behind her, and threw her backpack in the chair. “I can’t believe I have a lab to go to the night of my liveblog. For the first time in five years, I won’t be able to make it.”
“Skip it.” I hovered over the stove. The weather had turned kind of fallish, and I was making soup for the roomies. “The lab, I mean.”
She puckered her lips. “I can’t. It’s required. I’ve already tried to get out of it. It’s a major part of my grade.”
“Switch the day of your liveblog.”
She sunk into the couch. “I tried that before, and the change totally killed my participation. People expect you to be at a certain place and when you switch it, even one night, it really throws things off.”
I tapped the side of the soup and ladled her a bowl. “Why not have a guest do it? Invite someone to stand in. The conversations are all over chat, right? It’s not a podcast, so anyone could do it.”
Marie turned to me with a wide, hopeful smile, showing off those perfect teeth.
My heart quickened. I nearly dropped the bowl of soup. “Not me. I don’t know anything about relationships. I had one boyfriend in high school, and he dumped me.”
Marie’s gaze pleaded with mine. She crossed the living room into the kitchen. “You’ve got a natural knack, Gabby. You’ve got good common sense, and after reading the book you’ve learned so much. You just have to look at the whole picture. Most people are too emotionally involved to really give their relationship an honest assessment. If you remember that, advice is much easier to give. Just this once.”
I paced the kitchen. Well, the room was small, so my steps were more like a pivot. “But I’m not good with guys like you are. I fumble relationships. I get nervous and say the wrong thing or ask the wrong question.”
She batted away my concerns with a wave. “Bah! You’re not dating these guys. They’re in love with other girls. That should take some pressure off. Just pretend these guys are your brother and you’re just giving him common sense advice.”
I grabbed both her shoulders. “What if I screw up someone’s life?”
She shrugged. “Ultimately, they make their own choices.”
“Don’t people worry that you aren’t a certified therapist? Not a councilor or a PhD in something?”
She shrugged. “Not really. Most people want someone to listen to them, tell them what to do. Most people already know what they should do. They just don’t have the courage to do it. You’ll help them see the action they have already decided is the right course. You’ll do it?” Her eyebrows peaked and her eyes focused on me so intently.
Panic nearly choked my throat. I pivoted around the kitchen in dramatic circles. “What if someone argues with me? What if they don’t agree to my advice? What if I tell someone to pursue a dangerous and life-threatening relationship? What if I tell someone to break up with someone, and they were supposed to be together?” I was babbling now, which I do when I get nervous. I mean, this was big stuff.
She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you’re not the one for the job. You are too much of a stressor.”
Ha! She was right. Relationships didn’t just stress me out. They kept me up at night, wondering in the dark of the night if my crush will ever ask me out. “I don’t want to fail.”
With hands on her hips, she pointed a finger at me. “There’s your problem. Too much fear. That makes you hesitate, and it comes off as insecure. You’ll be fine. I promise. You know more than those people.”
I wrung a dishtowel in my hands. “I’ll feel like a phony. You’re the real deal. You know how to get guys to like you. You have the pick of the lot, among aspiring doctors and lawyers. And, and Olympians!” She’d dated a guy who qualified for the Summer Olympics for skateboarding. They broke up, but still! An Olympian. Who dated those guys? Marie did. “I don’t know anything.” If I had what she had, if I knew what drove guys to like girls, I’d feel way more confident. I seemed to always be making mistakes and doing the wrong thing—texting too quickly, calling too many times, or inviting too often. And I always failed. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I would spend hours analyzing and reanalyzing—what I said, what I didn’t do, and what I did do. “I can’t do it.”
“Well, I guess you need to learn. Livechat is Thursday.”
I needed to learn but how?
* * *
I frettedover her coming appointment, but tried to put it out of my mind. All I had to do was be there Thursday night to answer a bunch of chats. Maybe no one would write in, or maybe there would be easy problems to solve. Either way, I needed to learn something about guys and quick.
The best source of information is the male relative.
Bryan. I called him when I had a spare moment. “So, how’s work going?”
“Great.”
“Dad said you got a new car.”
“Yup.”
I knew he wasn’t a big phone talker. Or he was watching sports. Either way, the phone was not the way to communicate with him. A half hour of one syllable replies passed before we got to the deep part of the conversation. Sort of like swimming in a conversational pool, wading out to the kiddie side first until we get fully immersed before paddling through to the deep end and diving into some real conversation.
“I need some boy advice.” I didn’t linger long in the kiddie pool.
“Oh? You crushing on someone?”
Rolling my eyes, I gripped my phone. “No. Are you watching sports?”
“Yup.”
“Can I kinda have your full attention now? I have an important question.”
“Okay, I paused it. Shoot.”
“What makes guys tick?” I couldn’t believe I’d never asked him this before.
“Food, girls, cars, and sports. In that order.”
I paced the kitchen. “What?”
“You asked me what makes guys tick, and I told you.”
I opened the fridge. Then closed it. “Food is before girls?”
“Always.”
“Oh, brother.” I rolled my eyes and picked at a banana sticker someone had stuck on the refrigerator. Probably Kat. “I can’t believe I called you for advice.”
“Advice for what?”
“I just feel like I’m clueless when it comes to guys. And now I have to give relationship information to boys.”
“Is this for an assignment?”
Marie told me not to tell anyone I was taking her spot on her liveblog. “Just helping a friend.”
“First rule you should know about guys: they mean what they say. Girls have crazy active imaginations. Guys don’t have hidden agendas or secret double meanings. If girls understood that, there would be a lot less misery in the world.”
“For girls or for the guys?”
“Both.”
So there goes my double meaning with Lincoln giving me his number. He shared it for pure business. Bryan shared a few other tips which I wrote down before we hung up.
* * *
“You’ll never guesswhat I found out!” Marie burst through the open doorway with a breath of hot wind. With wide eyes, she threw down her backpack.
Lisa read on the couch, and I pored over homework on the nasty carpet.
Marie bit her lip. “Of course, it’s gossip so I shouldn’t share. You know what the book says about gossip.”
“I do. It says: ‘Let everyone’s name be safe on your lips. If you are tempted to gossip, remember it harms everyone—the listeners as well as the subject of your idle words.’”
“Dang, you have that book memorized?” Lisa asked
I crossed my arms. I couldn’t help but be defensive. “No, I just find it interesting. That’s all.”
Marie plopped in the chair by the door. “Well, then maybe I shouldn’t share.”
“Is it something we can find out ourselves?” I was dying to hear the news. Maybe I could wrangle it out of her with slight loopholes.
“Yes.”
I kneeled next to her. “Then what you’ll share is not gossip. You’re just the first one to tell us the obvious.”
“Okay. Lincoln and McKenna are dating.”
Her words hung in the air between us. I couldn’t breathe. Her words punched me in the gut. This validated what I thought during my conversation with Bryan; Lincoln’s phone number was for business. Nothing more.