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“Kelsey! It’s me, Bree. Remember?” Nathan’s best friend since high school. The woman who was here before you and will be here well after you. REMEMBER ME?!
It felt like the most painful breakup even though we’d never dated.
“Then no, I do not love him, Sam I am. I do not love him in a car, I do not love him in a bar. I do not love him with a hat, I do not love him with a cat,” I chirp adorably while twirling and whimsically conveying this lie in a way I hope they’ll understand.
“You bought the whole building?”
I stare at him, hoping he will finally get it through his beautiful, benevolent head that I can’t let him be my sugar daddy.
He’s lost all reason! Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!
Women are salivating now. We’re going to need a mop on aisle two. They know him, they want him, and they will do anything to get him.
If at all possible, she gets more adorable with every shot she takes. I have to be careful with her, though, because one time she literally tried to give the keys of her apartment to a man experiencing homelessness and told him he should have it instead of her. She’s generous to a fault—which is ironic considering that’s what she says about me.
And that’s how my running back, wide receiver, tight end, and left tackle all wind up at my place, getting our toenails painted in the team’s colors by Bree.
“To put it simply, you two should date.” My jaw hits the floor so hard it makes the whole apartment building tremble. “I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear you correctly.” “You two should date.”
All I can think is 1) I’m not in trouble, yay! 2) Nathan’s thumb is still touching my skin. 3) An emphasis on number two.
They want you guys to become a couple—real or fake, depending on your preference—leading up to the commercial to continue building hype around the brand.
“And after the commercial?” Nathan asks with one tiny sideways glance at me. “Break up, get married, whatever…it’s up to you.”
ROMANCE CHEAT SHEET on the board.
“Forget his weird winking. You need to brush a stray hair away,” says Price. I look at him. “Expound.” “Don’t you watch movies? You gotta wait until a piece of her hair falls into her face and then use your fingers to brush it back from her temple. Here, watch.” He leans forward and demonstrates on me, looking deep into my eyes then slowly brushing an imaginary lock of hair behind my ear. “Damn,” says Lawrence. “I felt that all the way over here.”
HE’S BASICALLY YOUR BOYFRIEND NOW—JUMP HIM!!!
“No hanky-panky.” His gaze swings to me, and I can tell he’s trying to school his expression so he doesn’t smile. “What exactly is hanky-panky?” I roll my eyes. “You know what that means. Even my grandma knows what that means.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’d love nothing more than hanky-panky with Nathan, but I know it wouldn’t mean the same things to us.
That’s why we’re here, because the world fell in love with Bree Camden. None of this would be happening if it were anyone else.”
He’s mine! Uh, wait, what? No. He’s fake mine. Fake fake fake fake fake. Not real.
That sparkle in her eye makes me think she’s going to get started on her lap dance rather than hair and makeup, and I consider jutting my foot out and tripping her.
My inner territorial cavewoman is getting out of control lately, and I need to get a grip.
“Your dinner is also in your dressing room, but Nathan had me order you chicken tacos from Chipotle, extra guac. Was that right?” He flings open a dressing room door and the smell of delicious tacos slaps me in the face. A little smile curls my lips because…I wasn’t forgotten.
“Well, you’re in luck! This extra guac your boyfriend requested for you has the same value as a car. Maybe you could pawn it for extra cash or something?”
“I’m Bree, by the way,” I say as he plops a glorious-smelling Chipotle box in my hands.
In the words of Mrs. Bennet, she has no compassion on my poor nerves!
I thought Nathan’s world was supposed to be like Mean Girls and I wouldn’t be allowed to sit at the cool table because I wasn’t one of them, but everyone was incredibly nice and helpful, and the crew was hilarious.
Then, after that, I’ll be open to starting a new relationship with someone else where I won’t have so much to lose.
She can make digs about my game or nutrition or looking pudgy in a magazine spread all she wants, but I won’t put up with a single word against Bree.
“Quick, someone get me some sunglasses—that man is so hot he’s burning my pupils off.”
“Beautiful,” he whispers against my ear, and a shiver runs sweet prickles up my spine. “You still with me?”
“My very real lips will be on your very real lips, Bree. That’s the very definition of real. It will not be in our heads.”
I nod and shift the soft taffy to my right cheek. I’m a chipmunk who hoards pink Starburst.
Well, let’s call it, folks. Bree Camden’s time of death: 10:30 p.m. Died of humiliation overdose.
I don’t know what that was about, but clearly my ovaries feel like they owe him something.
“Itt’sss noooot a dreeeammm,” I say in a spooky voice. “I am the ghost of Christmas—” “Oh my gosh, I’ll be down in a second.”
She tightens the pink tie of her robe primly like she wasn’t just encouraging me to turn Nathan into a Chippendales dancer.
“Thank you, I love it. And now I’m going to own your man.” “Not my man yet.” She laughs. “Bree, darling, he’s been your man for years.”
You can trust everything that happens in The Notebook to be romantic as shit.
In that tiny little kiss, there was a country-sized amount of meaning.
The pink splotches turn to red apples. Variety: Delicious
“Right now? Yes. I’m always happy when I’m with you.”
You know what’s strange about being a normal person and not living inside a Netflix movie? After significant moments, you don’t get a scene jump.
I think you’d love a bubble bath!” If Chandler Bing loves them, anyone will.
“And they are not why I fell in love with you.” His black eyes shoot up to me. I smile. The weight of these heavy secrets falls off of me, and I feel relieved to continue.
“I fell in love with you because you’re goofy. You’re fun. Your heart is so big I don’t know how it fits in here,” I say, pressing my hand to his chest. “You’re a terrible singer. You make me soup when I’m sick. You bought me tampons that time I was laid out on the couch with cramps and couldn’t move. You didn’t even send someone else for them. You went yourself!”
“I love you too,” he whispers over and over again. “I love you, Bree. I love you. I always have.”
I’m not humoring you, Bree. I’m not taking this lightly. I’m so devastatingly in love with you, it hurts sometimes—and I have been since high school.”
I’m sorry, Nathan. I Old-Yellered you.”
Bree is everything I aspire to be, everything I love, everything I desire. She holds my heart, and, with all that I am, I hope she never gives it back.
