My laugh is brittle. “Serious is a good word to use. They’re very serious. Very successful.”

“What do they do?”

“My mom is a plasma physicist. She consults for NASA. My dad is a professor at Princeton.”

He sits back. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow.” I manage to restrain my eye roll, but just barely. Not at Alex’s reaction, but at the fact that my parents are genius-level smart and . . . “And I just got fired from my job as a junior marketer,” I mutter.

“Student marketer.” He leans in.

I laugh, this time with more warmth. “Yeah. My parents are geniuses and I can’t even make it as an entry-level ‘student.’ ” I cringe. Ugh. Why does he like me again?

He shrugs. “Maybe you were in the wrong field.”

“Maybe.” There is no field for me. I need the field where I can stay alone at home all day and avoid the rest of humanity. My field is introverted recluse. Anyone hiring?

“You told me about applying for work in theater when you first moved here. What about that?”

I shake my head. “That’s not a career, it’s a hobby.”

“Says who? I was told playing games was a hobby and look at me now.” He lifts his arms, as if showing off all of his scruffy glory.

“Yeah, you look like a million bucks. Is that a curry stain under your armpit?”

He laughs and drops his arms, putting his elbows on the table. “It could be. So, your parents. They are basically geniuses.”

I nod and grimace. “Even better, overachieving geniuses.”

His eyes are warm on mine. Understanding. “That’s a lot to live up to.”

I snort. “Tell me about it. They expected everything from me and Eloise. Even as children, we were expected to behave like mini-adults. No mistakes allowed.”

He frowns. “Mistakes are how you learn.”

I nod. “Oh, don’t worry, I made mistakes. I was an eternal disappointment.”

“And Eloise is, who, your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t think you ever mentioned you had a sister.” His head tilts. “Eloise. Eloise Stewart.” His expression clears. A light bulb goes off over his head. “Wait, the actress?”

“Yep.” I lean back a little, my hands moving to my lap to squeeze each other under the safety of the table. “My little sister.”

“Wow. That’s . . . cool?”

I wince.

He laughs. “I mean, I guess maybe not.”

I look up from my lap and meet his curious gaze. “She’s great. She’s perfect. Smart, like our parents. She’s taking a break from Hollywood right now to go to Stanford, did you know?”

“No. So she lives nearby then?”

“Yeah. In Palo Alto.” I sigh. “She’s brilliant and gorgeous and meets every expectation, and I’m just . . . I’m just Jane.” I put my napkin on my plate and take one last sip of water before we slide out of the booth to leave.