The Exception to the Rule (The Improbable Meet-Cute, #1)

From: [email protected]


To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2022

Subject: Re: Look who’s back on top Ha ha yes yes I am still playing the sport and still studying the thing. In fact I can tell you that my sport is lacrosse because I’m pretty sure if you were at Madison you never saw a women’s lacrosse game, or if you did, you probably weren’t very impressed (yes, this is team slander and I welcome trash talking in response). I can give you a small hint and say that my school’s women’s team is very good. Because I took a year off, I still have 1.5 years of eligibility left, which is good because I hope to be captain next year.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2022

Subject: Re: Look who’s back on top Lacrosse is pretty badass, T. You will get no trash talking from me, especially coming from Irvine where I’m not sure whether even 50% of our community could successfully differentiate lacrosse from field hockey. I cannot tell you my sport because it is a small but successful team at Madison, and you’d be able to figure me out with a simple Google and we all know how you feel about that.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2022

Subject: Re: Look who’s back on top This is going to be forward, but I’ve gotta shoot my shot: Will you be home at all this summer? If so, do you want to meet up? (If you have a girlfriend, tell me because in the interest of full disclosure, I have had a little crush on you for years now and am basically asking you out on a date.) (I will also immediately panic once I send this email.) From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2022

Subject: Re: Look who’s back on top Okay well I know what you mean about having a crush because I’ve sort of had the same What If thought a few times. But I’m so sorry, T. I would love to meet you, but I do have a girlfriend and agree that if we did connect in person, it would inevitably feel like a date. I do hope you have a very happy Valentine’s Day, though, and will still be getting dumplings tonight as tradition requires. Until next year?

Yours,

C.





Chapter Ten


2023


From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Happy Valentine’s Day!

I love winning.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

You were destined to win this year since I would absolutely not be the first to send the email after asking a taken man out on a date last year! Happy Valentine’s Day, C!

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

I’m not taken anymore, if that helps . . . And I’ll be in Irvine for the last two weeks of August.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Not only do I have a boyfriend, but he is moving to the same city I am for graduate school, and we are packing up for the road trip over—you guessed it—the last two weeks of August.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Goddamnit.

From: [email protected] To: [email protected] Date: February 14, 2023

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Lol i know. TEN Valentine’s Days, though. Ten!! It’s so cool that we’ve done this since we were 14 and 16 years old. Happy Valentine’s Day, C. Maybe next year we’ll meet. Even if it isn’t romantic, it will be so good to see you in person someday.

xo

T.





Chapter Eleven


FEBRUARY 14, 2024

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Happy Valentine’s Day!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, FAVORITE

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Hey! Happy Valentine’s Day. What are you up to?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

My roommate and friend are dragging me to a party. I broke up with the bf a couple weeks ago, and there’s a non-Valentine’s thing at the house of a friend of a friend or something—honestly, I don’t even know. I’m just preemptively annoyed because I’m sure there won’t be soup dumplings there.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Oh, wow, I’m sorry about the bf. I hope you’re okay.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Oh, no, I am totally okay. I ended things. He’d gotten clingy and weird, and you know how grad school is. There isn’t time for clingy and weird. How are you?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

OK cool, so then is it too soon to ask you out next time we’re both back in Irvine?

And I’m good. Busy. Hoping to wrap up things and do the dissertation defense in the fall. I’ll be in Irvine for a week in June but can also come back when you’re in town.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

It’s not too soon . . .

You’d come back just to see me?

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: February 14, 2024

Subject: Re: Happy Valentine’s Day!

Without question.





Chapter Twelve


FEBRUARY 14, 2024

Terra

Irun my fingers decadently over the plushest sofa I’ve ever sat upon and sip the best wine I’ve ever tasted, unfortunately feeling more bored than I have in my entire life. My friends insisted that what I needed postbreakup was a non-Valentine’s-Day-themed Valentine’s Day party, but I can assure you that no newly single woman ever wants to do anything remotely celebratory on Valentine’s Day.

Yet, here I am. The wine is good; the cheese is, too. And plentiful: there’s a huge spread of it on the gleaming glass coffee table in front of me, and not a pink-wrapped Hershey’s kiss or chalky heart candy to be found. Chef’s kiss. But the cheese seems mostly to be for show. No one appears tempted. I’ve only seen one woman eat a single green olive, and it was about ten minutes ago. I watched as she delicately retrieved the pit from between her lips with her thumb and forefinger, fretting visibly for a handful of seconds about where to discard it before seeming to decide to fold it into her palm. I think it might still be in there.

Relatedly, this isn’t my kind of party. I’m more a jeans-and-board-games kind of gal. An outdoor-bonfire kind of vibe. This is a wine-and-cheese-and-New-Yorker-articles-discussion party. A what’s-your-favorite-podcast party. I don’t even know whose house we’re in; I think my roommate, Elise, said the guy who owns it is a friend of her friend Nathan’s, which is a circuitous way of saying that the owner could be any one of the fancily dressed people sipping malbec and discussing which hedge fund is their favorite.

But whoever lives here is clearly very rich because this place is enormous. It’s the kind of Philadelphia house that makes a penniless, first-year graduate student like me feel vaguely pre-defeated, because I’ve set the success bar firmly at Paying Off My Student Loans Before I Retire. I can’t imagine affording something like this in any version of my future. I can’t even afford the cab ride home, which is why I’m stuck here until Elise and our friend Jamie are ready to bail.