The Thirty Fifth Guy

Prologue

"Why?" He asked, the sadness in his voice overpowering.

"I just don't think I like you...The way you...Like me?" I tried, the corner of my lips tugging upward in an awkward attempt at a comforting smile.

He shook his head in disbelief and muttered something like, "I'm being friend-zoned," under his breath before giving me a sad smile and turning around.

"Bye?" I called after his retreating figure but he either didn't hear me, or was ignoring me because I couldn't hear him give me a response.

Bye? I couldn't of thought of something not snotty to say, I've only given the break-up talk dozens of times.

I mentally face-palmed myself as I got back into my car. I only had seconds of driving before the ominous dark storm clouds overhead thundered, shooting thousands of tiny water droplets down onto the hood of me freshly-clean black Jeep.

"Damn it!" I yelled to no one in particular about the rain. Usually I loved the rain, but not hours after a freshly clean car.

Pulling into my garage I turned the keys out of the ignition and locked up. As I swung the door shut behind me, the sound echoed off of the concrete walls, very loudly.

"It's done!" I shouted to my brother who was sitting at the island in our kitchen.

He looked up mid-bite and pieces of bacon from his BLT fell out onto his plate. His eyebrows were pulled together in confusion, but recognition flashed across his face and he cheered, momentarily forgetting to swallow, and parts of his meal dropped out of his mouth or spit across the counter onto the tiled floor.

I bit my lip to hold back my laugh, and a bright crimson spread across his cheeks and up the tips of his ears.

"Wasn't funny," he tried to say but it came out "wubbnans fubby."

This made me laugh harder and his scowl deepened. He swallowed before attempting to talk again, "Alright. How'd it go? Did this one cry?"

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to talk but he cut me off, "Wasn't The Crier named Mickey?"

I shook my head no.

He pondered it another minute, his hand stroking his chin, "Markus?" I kept shaking my head before he jumped off his chair, "MIKEY!"

I rolled my eyes, "Yes. But no, this one didn't cry," I told him. "He pulled the 'why' card though," I added as an afterthought.

He laughed, "What'd he say?"

I lowered my voice as much as I could and mimicked my ex-boyfriend, "I think I'm being friend-zoned, oh why awesome one!"

My brother was laughing hysterically, like he always does whenever I break up with another poor kid, "I can't believe he said that he was friend-zoned. Bro Code doesn't usually allow for that."

I innocently smiled, "I probably knew more about the Bro Code than that kid."

"You probably do."

"Zach! Be nice!"

"You just dissed him first!" He said, disbelievingly.

I laughed, "I know."

"What number guy was that?" He asked, smirking at me slightly.

I sighed, "Thirty three...?"

His eyes nearly popped out of his head, "Thirty three! Two months ago it was only twenty five!"

I waved a goodbye and walked up the wooden stairs into my big bedroom. I closed the door and surrounded myself in the familiar scent of burning vanilla, sliding down the back of the door and resting on my hardwood floor. I took in my gray walls and black furniture like I always did when I was thinking, the soft thumps of rain lulling me to sleep.

That night I dreamed I wasn't a person ridden with trust issues and sarcastic comments. I dreamed I was a Princess, who lived in a huge castle, who didn't break off every relationship she ever had, and who didn't have an overprotective older brother always pranking her.

I dreamed that my life was the definition of perfect, but then again, no ones is.

***

Don't worry she's not as bitchy as she's made out to be.