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Back Unnecessary Drama Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. TEXT LOGO PAGE
  3. ABOUT THE BOOK
  4. DEDICATION
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  46. ALSO BY NINA KENWOOD
  47. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  48. PRAISE
  49. NEW MARKETING PAGE

‘Nice guys are the worst,’ Jesse says. His negativity is starting to piss me off now.

‘So we can’t trust arseholes but we can’t trust nice guys either? Who do I trust then?’ I say.

‘Women,’ Harper says, then pauses. ‘Some women. About sixty per cent.’

‘You can trust about thirty per cent of men,’ Jesse says.

‘Stop it,’ I say to him.

‘Henry’s in that thirty per cent,’ Harper says. ‘He’s related to Penny, so he has to be.’

‘We’re not getting married. It’s just a very low-key coffee date,’ I say. I am proud of the confidence I’m projecting. I look in the mirror one last time. I look fine. I want to look like the me of the photo or, even better, look like Lauren or Harper or Penny, all of whom have beautiful faces and their own distinctive style, but I’m stuck being a deeply ordinary, mostly unremarkable person to look at.

‘You could fall in love today,’ Harper says, clasping her hands together. Jesse’s head snaps up from his computer, eyebrows raised.

That is somehow more stressful to hear than the possibility of death by serial killer. Fall in love? No. Horrible. I don’t want love.

‘Don’t say that,’ I say.

I head towards the door.

‘Brooke,’ Jesse says.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I say, turning around with my hands on my hips.

‘I was just going to say. You do, um. You do look good,’ he says, and then clears his throat and coughs and looks back down at his computer screen.

‘Oh. Thank you,’ I say, quickly turning away because now my face feels hot.

‘Good luck!’ Harper says. ‘Text us the minute it’s over!’ She’s so stressed about this. She wants it to go well so badly, and I want to please her so badly, that I’m already digging in, telling myself, be open to love, be open to love, be open to love, as I walk to the cafe.

18

18

Now that I’m sitting in a busy cafe on a Saturday afternoon waiting for Henry to arrive, I understand that dating is hell and I want to die. I see why people date at night. If you’re in a busy bar, there is darkness and crowds and noise, or in a restaurant there is a whole meal to be discussed and then ordered and then eaten and focused on and, if you’re lucky, the lights are dim. And then there is the best option of all, the one I should have chosen, which is to see a movie together. True darkness and sitting facing forwards and no possibility of talking and something to entertain you and snacks and maybe a recliner chair.