Don’t Be in Love

5

Don’t Confide in Your Siblings — Dorian

“I met someone,” I said.

“Dorian, you meet someone every weekend,” Jasmine said.

“You know what, I don’t quite remember why I called—”

“Don’t hang up! Don’t hang up!”

I waited for her reason.

“I told Tristan I had an important phone call, so I’m hiding in the bathroom hoping he’ll realize I’m busy and then just leave. If he hears that I’ve stopped talking, then he’ll never go.”

“Tristan? The guy Mum set you up with last month? You’re still seeing him? I thought you said he smelled like spicy crisps?”

She groaned. “ I did . I just feel bad.”

“That he smells like crisps?” I readjusted the phone between my ear and shoulder as I tightened the easel against the canvas before sitting down. Everyone in the art studio—sitting in our large circle of easels facing one another—had already begun on their paintings since I was late “as usual” (according to Poppy, the owner).

“No, no, I’m talking about Mum. You know how she is with the whole ‘I want you to fall in love like I did’ crap. I can’t tell her no now,” she complained.

“Yes, you can.”

“Oh yeah, like how you tell Mum no all the time.”

“That’s different,” I argued, picking up a pencil and beginning to sketch a silhouette.

“Is it though?”

“One, I live in the same country as her. Two, me not caring about university compared to you not wanting to date some guy are completely different situations.” I put the pencil down. “Aren’t you supposed to be helpful? Older sister and all?”

“I was referring to Victoria when it came to saying no, but alright, I see we’re still avoiding that problem until she’s London-bound. And by the way, I am being helpful.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not a therapist.”

“That’s why I make pottery for a living smartarse.”

I responded to her with silence.

“Fine, I’ll humor you. Who’s this woman you’ve met?” she asked.

“I think I rather just hang up. Is the crisp boy gone yet?”

“No come on,” she whined. “I want to know now.”

I sighed, erasing the nose and restarting. “I met her this weekend. We went out, had a nice time, and then two days later, I find her in my class.”

“That’s a bit eerie.”

“You’d think but I wanted to see her again, so it felt like fate in a way? That was until she pretended like she’d never met me.”

I pulled the phone away as her laugh rang through my ear. “That has to be the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. What did you do to her?” she shrieked.

“Nothing! I thought we had a good night! I tried asking her out and she told me no.”

“Oh, Dorian.” She felt bad, but I could hear her holding back another laugh. “So now you’re stuck in class with her all semester? That’s embarrassing.”

I scratched the back of my neck. “Actually, she’s tutoring me as well.”

“And why would she agree to that?”

“You ask a lot of questions for someone who wasn’t interested ten seconds ago.”

“How do you even know she’s any good?”

“Because I looked her up. She’s had a number of scholarships and internships in marketing that make a Harvard business student look like a failure. We met at her work yesterday to go over the semester project—you’d think she already took the class.”

“What’s her name?”

“Why?”

“I want to see a picture of her.”

“Adelaide Adorno,” I said hesitantly.

A pause and then, “She’s really pretty.”

“I know,” I exhaled.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tsked.

“James was a lot nicer about this when I told him. Supportive even.”

“Well, that’s James for ya.” A door-like creak sounded behind her. “I think he left,” she celebrated with a high-pitched whisper.

“Happy I could provide some help.”

“Eternally grateful.” A muffled noise passed over the speaker before she returned. “Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I have to get back to this mug set.”

“Send me a picture when you’re done.”

“Will do—oh, and Dorian.”

“Yeah?”

Her voice switched to her Semi-Responsible Sister Tone. “Be careful. You only just met this girl. I just … I don’t want it to end up like Victoria.”