If Matthew’s brother had been just a little bit older, I would have dated him, just based on how much I liked Matthew. Admittedly, Matthew was eleven, but he was perfect and as soon as he lost that goofy adolescent thing, he would make somebody an awesome girlfriend.
Matthew’s brother was fourteen and I was sixteen and that was just too young.
Perhaps it was ridiculous that I had a crush on someone I’d hardly ever met—rather, whose name I didn’t even know—but there it was. I had a GIGANTIC crush on Matthew’s brother.
I saw him walking around sometimes, which made sense, as I taught Matthew how to speak French at his house. It was all “Bonjour, Matthew” and then BAM. Matthew’s brother would walk through the room and I would get flustered. Luckily for me, sweet little Matthew, always solemn, either didn’t notice or didn’t say anything. I would have felt even more pathetic if he had.
In my defense, Matthew’s brother looked like he was about twenty. I had actually been embarrassed by my clichéd older-boy crush when I first saw him and heard how similar he was to his little brother. But then I found out that he was going to be a freshman to my junior—perhaps the most twilight-zone experience of my life.
Fourteen or not, Matthew’s brother was super cute.
One of those Thursday afternoons, after going over the conjugations of –ir verbs with Matthew, his brother crossed the room (I felt a blush begin to form) and looked at me. LOOKED at me. “Finir” died on my lips.
“Hey,” she said to me, clearly CLEARLY flirting. I was pleased, even if it would never work out. He was a cute little baby but gosh darn was I intrigued.
“Hey,” I said back, casting my eyes down demurely. Wasn’t that what the attractive heroines were always doing in books?
“It’s cool that you, you know, speak French. And are teaching Meatball.” I couldn’t imagine giving cute little Matthew any sort of nasty nickname. He was too sweet.
But still, I was prepared to be demure. “Thanks,” I muttered, still sort of flirting. “No big deal.” I tugged on one of my braids nervously.
Matthew’s brother shrugged. “I’ve just been seeing you around, and thought it was cool.” He flashed me a charmer’s smile, one that was way more twenty than fourteen. “I’m Millard, by the way.”
Suddenly Matthew’s brother seemed much less attractive.
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