BRIE

          Sometimes I wonder what my life would have turned out like if I a) had been born rich and b) knew how to keep my mouth shut before I inadvertently say the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things.

          Unfortunately, I'm more than used to being looked down both on and at; I'm not particularly tall, barely surpassing five-foot-five, and no one ever takes me seriously for a myriad of reasons. Thus, I'm half-expecting Rhett to tell me I'm being absolutely delusional about all of this, that I have absolutely no reason to keep doubting him or myself, and it's better if I brace myself for the impending impact of the biting response I'll be getting.

          The looking at me like I'm stupid part I can handle. I can put on my big girl panties and suck it up, as it's not the first and certainly won't be the last time I'll be put through something like that, but the feelings of inadequacy have a special way of ruining my mood and making me obsess over them for days, sometimes even weeks or months. The longer I dwell on it, the more I devote active mental energy to stop myself from doing so, and noticing the effects it has on me eventually turns into a mechanical process. When it stays automatic, I can delude myself into believing I can ignore them.

          These things leave marks, even if you want to pretend they don't, and they act like you're wet cement by how easily they leave a trace behind. It has always bothered me how easily I fall into that trap, but it makes it even worse when I remember how even easier it is for me to always allow for it to happen while knowing about it and about its consequences. Being prepared has never helped me; in fact, it somehow makes everything worse. Am I not supposed to know better?

          Am I not supposed to know trusting Rhett Price with matters of the heart—particularly, with matters of my heart—is never a good idea? Haven't I been hurt enough already? Hasn't he trampled over my heart enough times for me to learn from my mistakes?

          However, he doesn't look at me like I'm stupid.

          He has to look down to look me in the eyes, even when I'm wearing tall heels, for he easily towers over me while still not being one of the tallest guys on the hockey team, but his facial expression remains neutral. If anything, there's a certain curiosity swimming in his eyes like childlike wonder, like I'm the most interesting person at this gala, but we both know there are many people he should be talking to—people he's a much better match for.

          Unfortunately for the romantic side of my personality, I'm way past the phase in my life when I thought we were perfect for each other in spite of our differences, a weird kind of star-crossed lovers, an opposites attract situation. That mentality is a product of its time, from back when I romanticized the hustle and straight up believed everyone got the same opportunities and would fulfill their lifelong dreams if they worked hard enough, and thought it was completely normal to have parents working two jobs to make ends meet. I like to think there are still remnants of that girl in the present version of me and my rose-colored glasses—or, at the very least, the best parts of her make up for the worst parts of me—but most of that wide-eyed innocence has vanished.

          Not everything about it was Rhett's fault. Though it's easy to blame him for everything that has gone wrong in my life and claim everything I am today has been influenced exclusively by the heartbreak he caused, it's not the full truth, and it's unfair to him. Even if I'm still furious at him—and rightfully so—I'm also not oblivious to other factors and my own involvement in the sabotage of my dreams and my life.

          For example, Cole. Evil, despicable Cole has his own agenda and his own twisted way of treating the few people who like him for the rare qualities he possesses, but I knew about all of his flaws and red flags since before we got together, and I still went after him.

          I can't fully blame Rhett for my abhorrent choices in romantic partners, but it's still curious how I routinely pursue guys who give me nothing and are terrified of completely committing to a healthy relationship with me because I'm used to being the one who gives the most. Even if Rhett is—was?—one of those guys, he's so desperate to prove to me he has changed that I'm almost inclined to consider believing his words.

          It can very well come back to haunt me in a few months, but my own desperation is palpable, and I refuse to spend the rest of my senior year in a slump, stuck with a senior project I don't want to work on because it's not what I wanted to do, and dwelling on what could have been. I might be a dreamer, but I'm not that type of dreamer; I want to look far into the future, not obsess over the past.

          "I don't know what else I can say for you to believe I genuinely want to make it up to you, but I also don't think it will be helpful to repeat everything I've already told you," Rhett eventually says. We're standing so close to each other I fear our chests will touch if I dare to take a deep breath and everything in me urges to step back and create some safe distance between us, but, for some unknown reason, I stay put. If he's uncomfortable with the sudden closeness, he can be the one to widen the little space there is. "I miss you, Brie, and I want to make things right before I lose this opportunity. I don't want to wait for the timing to feel better because I might lose you for good then. It's that simple."

          It really isn't that simple. Nothing about us has ever been simple, and I won't stand by and let anyone refer to it as such, not even him; if he thinks it's not complicated and lacks any sort of nuance, then he's a lot more oblivious to the implications of his proposal than I initially thought.

          "Why me?" I question. "You can ask literally any other girl to pretend to be your girlfriend. You can also drop the womanizer act and actually start pursuing a serious relationship. I don't understand why it has to be me specifically. I don't understand why you're choosing to make me relive experiences and feelings that hurt me a lot more than I think you realize." I raise my chin in defiance when his resolve begins to waver. His shoulders aren't as straight anymore, like hesitation is clouding his reasoning, and I'm aware this is one of the first steps towards sabotage. We have the possibility of getting what we want, and we're both actively trying to ruin it. "I need to understand why."

          "How honest do you want me to be here? I don't want to risk saying what's on my mind only for you to accuse me of doing everything in my power to hurt your feelings."

          My eyes narrow, though the little monster jumping around in my chest pounds even harder this time. "I can take it. Besides, you can't say anything that will hurt me more than what you already have. We're past the point of walking on eggshells around each other, don't you think?"

          "Perhaps." Rhett looks far off into the distance for a moment, pensive, and a muscle in his jaw throbs as he mulls over his next words in his head. For the sake of keeping a clear head so I can properly process whatever he wants to tell me, I keep my eyes glued to his—they're the least distracting part of his body to me right now. "My parents like you. My mom asks about you, like, every two weeks."

          I blink. "Really?"

          "Yeah. Whenever I screw up, reminding me of when I screwed things up with you is one of their favorite ways to really ham it up." One of the corners of his mouth rises in amusement, but my stomach has fully sunk. There were many good things that came from walking away from him, but I've always liked his family and the way they made me feel like I belonged even when I couldn't feel that way myself. "I thought . . . well, I thought it would be a good way of selling the whole 'here's something I'm serious about' deal if I took you home to them. I know how horrible that sounds and I know I'd be using you, but not everything would be a lie; even if we wouldn't actually be dating, we'd still be spending time together, and they'd know I was serious about mending our relationship regardless of its nature. They know you and they know how smart you are, so they'd know you'd be able to see right through me if I was trying to fool you. I would still be completely serious when it came to being the right guy for you, even just as friends, and it would make them extra happy to see you're okay."

          "Okay with being back in your life, that is."

          "Okay in general. I think you underestimate just how liked you've always been in that house. Whenever Lorelai calls or stops by for a visit, she always wants to hear about you and what you've been up to." He rubs the back of his neck and not even I can ignore the gentle pink flush coating his cheeks. "I always want to tell them a lot more than what I'm able to. Whatever you think about me, please don't doubt I'm being completely honest with you about why I've asked you to do this one thing for me. There's some self-service involved, yes, and I need to land these brand sponsorships if I want the pro contract after graduation, but I also want things between us to be okay if you give me the chance to prove it. I'd be helping you, too, but you already knew that. Just say the word."

          There are many words I want to say to Rhett, some nicer than others, and there's a silly part of me that finds some comfort and some power to keep him on his toes, so willing to swallow that stupid pride of his just to hear me say I want to try again. Try to be friends again, that is, as I don't think I'd be in the right headspace to think developing romantic feelings for him all over again is a good idea. There's something ironic about letting the ball land on my hands and telling me I can do whatever I want with it.

          Once upon a time, I let him hold my heart. Blissfully unaware it was made of glass, Rhett dropped it, and it was up to me to pick up the pieces and glue them back together, but I've never managed to heal it. Not completely. I don't think it will ever be whole again, but I also want to believe he has changed.

          This half-assed apology once was everything I wanted to hear, everything I hoped to get from him and never did—until now. Even if we both have something to win from pretending to be in a relationship, I also don't think he'd be willing to bare his heart out to me this way if he wasn't being genuine.

          If there's one thing I know about boys and men is that they're not usually in touch with and aware of their emotions—especially the deepest ones—and, on the off chance that they are, it's never to a meaningful enough level to be able to fake this much insight. Unfortunately, emotional intelligence seems to be an important area in which boys are seriously slacking.

          My thesis about boys is that they lie. They lie all the time, and you'd be naive to think otherwise.

          They'll lie to you about being serious about commitment and seeing a future with you, they'll lie about caring about your interests, and they'll lie about you being their dream girl, but even their lies have limits. Pretty boys are dangerous, but pretty boys who are good with words are a matter of national security.

          He knows how to get me worked up and how to get me emotional. Even if he means well by mentioning his family and how much they miss me, it still hits me like a wrecking ball, urging me to do this for him—and for them. There's no way of returning to their lives without getting through him first, not to mention how awkward it would be to waltz into their house without him welcoming me or even being okay with my presence, and I do want him back in my life as well. I'm terrified of making that final jump, though, and it's not often I get paralyzed with fear.

          Nothing he can do to me now can be any worse than what he did to me back then, right? We've grown, and we've learned—I hope. Even if I still make stupid, easily avoidable mistakes and will forever be haunted by them, I can ensure my future will be better. Heck, for now, I'm both thankful and lucky to even have a future at all.

          "I'll need to talk to my advisor before making any definite decisions," I begin. The stupid monster in my chest does a goddamn backflip when Rhett's entire face lights up like a beacon with the sound of my voice. Stupid, stupid fool. "I can't give you an answer right now. It depends on whatever she tells me; if I can't change my project, then . . ."

          "And if you can? Would it be a no?"

          "Rhett . . ."

          He raises his hands by his shoulders. "I'm just asking. No strings attached."

          "I don't know. I really want to make this work, both the project and . . . and whatever our relationship is or has the potential to become. I want to believe you've changed, but I can't simply forget and let go of everything that's happened. It took me years to move on from you."

          Rhett frowns. Even twisted like that, his face is still so unbelievably gorgeous I want to run face first against a brick wall to get it out of my head. "I understand."

          "However . . ." I sharply inhale, then offer him my hand. "I wouldn't be opposed to speaking to your parents and Lorelai, let them know we're at least talking about trying to make it work. Give them a little taste."

          Like magic, his lips stretch into a wide grin that could power up an entire city. "Sounds perfect to me."

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it begins!!! kind of. 

there's still a lot that will happen moving forward, and brie's wounds are certainly not healed. even though rhett is our main boy and their "relationship" will be the greater focus, we need to remember she has just gotten out of a long term relationship with someone else and has yet to grieve it properly. she knows cole sucks (boo) but it was still something that impacted her. let ppl grieve bad relationships too!!