“So did I,” he offered, neglecting to inform her that “a few weeks” meant two.
She sighed. “Well, the thing is, I told myself I was going to go all of October without dating anyone. And then you kissed me, and, I don’t know, I thought maybe it didn’t matter, but my suitemates in the dorm, they just thought that it was important that I actually do this, just to prove to myself that I could, you know, be single.”
(A classic Serial Monogamist.3 You may know the type. If not, please see below.)
Gael nodded, but the wheels in his head were already turning. She liked him enough to tell her roommates about him. She liked him enough to at least think about breaking her promise to herself.
Cara didn’t wait for a response. “Is it okay if we just stay friends for now, at least until October is over?”
“Of course it is,” he said. And he meant it.
Because there were just over two weeks left in October. He could certainly hold out two weeks.
* * *
3. Serial Monogamist: One who ruthlessly believes in not being alone. Feelings of love and romance aren’t nearly as strong as they are with Romantics; instead, Serial Monogamists have an intense desire to have a partner at every stage of their life. May result in jumping from relationship to relationship, falling for a new person before letting go of the first, and not taking time to figure out who they are on their own. May also result in an uncanny knack for commitment that can help commitment-phobes finally give love a shot.
phase two, explained
Okay, so Gael wasn’t exactly horrified by Cara’s less than compatible behavior (leave it to the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope to convince a guy that someone who straight-up irks him will also somehow save him). Fine.
I wasn’t worried. I was well into Phase Two.
Cara had made a vow not to date anyone in October. Cara made a lot of vows of that nature. And she always broke them as soon as someone new came into the picture. And her friends always kept their mouths shut.
But through some pivotal moves on my part (an article on how being a good friend means saying what you actually think, a well-timed psychology lecture about how we often lie to those we love most), I’d convinced her friends to speak their minds on this one.
And when Choosing Me Before We fell off the shelf at Student Stores, right onto Cara’s feet, she took it (rightly) as a sign. She listened.
I’d bought myself a little bit of time—just over two weeks. But I was dealing with a Grade-A Romantic and a textbook Serial Monogamist.
This certainly wasn’t going to be easy.
mano a mason
“Come on, man,” Mason yelled from his truck as Gael walked home from school on Thursday. “Let me give you a ride!”
Gael always walked to and from school on Thursdays—Gasless Thursdays, one of his dad’s earnest efforts to lower their carbon footprint, was a longstanding tradition in the Brennan family, even though they weren’t really one family anymore.
Before TUB, of course, Gael had rejoiced in the occasional Thursday-afternoon ride from Anika or Mason, especially if he had his saxophone with him. But now, Mason was the last person he wanted to be around. It had been two days since the hike with Cara, and he wavered between counting down the days to November and wondering if her whole story was just a lame excuse to reject him.
He and Cara had made plans to go to a UNC exhibition basketball game together, but it wasn’t until Friday, which left him no choice but to slog through his classes, make inane lunchtime chitchat with Danny and Jenna, and listen to his mother’s daily reminders about how being single could be empowering, freeing—the perfect time to find yourself!—which was completely hard to believe given how puffy her eyes had been these last few months. Honestly, Gael was exhausted.
Both mentally and physically.
Because that morning he’d made the deranged decision to go running with his dad. After ten blocks, Gael had gotten winded, and after another ten, his dad finally realized that chanting “You can do it!” was about as helpful as telling a sloth to hurry up. A few blocks later Gael screamed, “This was the shittiest idea ever!” and he headed back home before he could see the inevitable disappointment on his dad’s face.
Mason, ex–best friend and king of the betrayers, laid on the horn.
“What the hell, man?” Gael finally broke his silence, accompanying his question with a choice gesture.
Gael picked up his pace, but Mason matched it—driving his truck well below the speed limit.
“Seriously?” Gael asked, turning around.
“We need to talk,” Mason said. “Manna to manna.”
A line of cars steadily backed up behind Mason. Horns honked, but Mason wouldn’t go any faster.
“Fine,” Gael snapped. He walked around the truck, opened the passenger door, and tossed his backpack in harder than he needed to.