Perfectly Stalkable In Every Way (Brea!)

[Brea White]

Brea did view romance as…okay, it wasn’t Disney-esque at all. Instead, she viewed it as being a simple business transaction. Otherwise romance was ewy-gooey and gross. If you needed any proof, all you had to do was look at her brother and his boyfriend/best friend/guy who always took advantage of him/Braxton. That was a gross relationship if she’d ever seen one, and if that was what love got you, then she’d decided that she wasn’t going to have any of it. Except for Elliot. Then she might consider it, but he’d better get his own darn cellphones and everything else. She wasn’t going to be doing the work for him at all and ever.

“Exactly!” she brightened, then leaned back and frowned to herself, shaking her head. “But I like it with metaphors.” The point wasn’t the prettiness of the words. Except that…well, it was the prettiness of the words. It was such a beautiful way of expressing things, even if it was feelings you didn’t understand.

Unlike Elliot, however, she liked the metaphors without liking the romance. But had she known that he was currently seeing someone else, she would’ve been crushed. She knew that this whole thing was unlikely. It was mostly the beautiful picture that it painted in her head of her potential future that had her acting like she did. It was totally that. And JUST that, actually.

“I’m sorry to hear that you only have cousins,” she said. “But it’s better for you, I think. They’re gross and grosser.” It was her automatic response, always. “No, uh, one’s…twenty, and the other is seventeen. How old are your siblings?”

[Elliot Morrow]

Elliot had been sure that all little girls viewed romance as very Disney-esque. Prince falls in love with the princess, and all that jazz. Apparently with Brea that was entirely wrong, but what did he know? His own views on romance were actually... not quite Disney-esque, but close. It was... well, romantic. It was sweet, and gentle, and just... nice. Especially when he thought about Caleb. Granted, they hadn’t been all that romantic yet, but he was hoping.

“But how does anyone know what you mean with metaphors?” He could see her disappointment, but really, unless you were an English major, how did anyone know what you meant? “Unless you’re some brilliant writer to start with.” He had no interest in that. Pretty words were nice, yes, but anyone with talent could probably word something rather cruel in such a way that it sounded pretty. Like Shakespeare. He was pretty sure the insults in his works were all worded pretty nicely.

“Your brothers are that bad, hey?” He had no experience to go on, though he liked to think he’d have been a good brother, if he’d had the chance. Instead he just placated himself with being protective over Nikki and Angie. “They’re younger. Nikki just turned fifteen, and Angie’s twelve. Granted, they probably think I’m pretty gross too.” Even if they did spend half of their visits crawling all over him and insisting they take him to meet their friends.

[Brea White]

“You don’t have to start with being good with metaphors,” she pointed out innocently. “Or, um, being good at writing. All it means is that you have to be a little decent at interpreting things. It means it isn’t black and white, and you just have to look at it…like that?” She didn’t think she was explaining this at all. She, who was normally so articulate and so good at explaining words, had no idea how to explain the idea of working with metaphors. “You have to picture them in your mind. Try to figure out what it’s actually relating to. Shakespeare is really good at that.” Then again, she hadn’t ever liked Shakespeare’s romances. Either everyone died due to a horrible misunderstanding or people fell in love with donkeys due to other horrible misunderstandings, and that was just one of the reasons that Brea intended to have her future husband sign a contract before they were done.

Brea’s nod was glum and extremely fast to respond. Because they WERE that bad, and she was more than happy to admit that fact. To pretty much everyone. But if they insulted them to her face, she’d probably jump on them. Only SHE was allowed to insult them. That was pretty much the rule in her head. “They’re gross,” she said. As if that explained it all. “Besides, they don’t live with you. I think my cousins are very intelligent and rational beings, but I doubt I would if I lived with them.”

[Elliot Morrow]

Elliot gave Brea a slightly appraising look. “I think this is why my English teacher probably wants to beat me.” He gave an easy shrug and leaned back slightly in his chair to stretch his back. “I’m better with the black and white. Data, I can do. Poetry is just too...” Come on, genius boy. Think of a word. “Unpredictable.” Still, the idea of expression something in such a special way to Caleb was appealing. He’d just have to... copy it down from a book, because there was no way in hell he was creative enough to come up with one on his own. “Shakespeare gives me a headache,” he admitted with a guilty smile. “Though we spent a whole class in high school studying and utilizing Shakespearian insults. That was fun.” Of all he’d done in his senior year in English, that had actually appealed to him in a strange way. “Most of his work is too depressing.” Even if Romeo and Juliet was supposed to be hailed as an amazing love story, the characters had both ended up dead. That wasn’t romantic.

Well then. Brea’s brothers were gross. He half wondered if he knew the oldest one. They were relatively close in age, which allowed for the potential of knowing one another. At least in passing if nothing else. But that wasn’t the subject at hand. “I’m not sure what they think of me, honestly. They go between dragging me around to meet their friends to banishing me because they need girl time.” Girls were strange sometimes. “It must be nice having brothers, though. Regardless of how gross they are.” He smiled at her. “I’d be willing to guess you have at least one of them trained to bend to your will.” He could see that about her.

[Brea White]

“Computers aren’t in black or white either,” she pointed out reasonably. “Things go wrong. It doesn’t just take one piece of code to get something right. Or, that’s what little I know about computers. Mr. Cohen talks about it a lot. He says good computing is like poetry. But he always says weird things like that. You can’t tell me a computer can’t be unpredictable sometimes.” Then again, considering how poorly Mr. Cohen saw, perhaps that wasn’t a fair comparison. The man could hardly manage after all. Maybe that was why computers were complicated. “It’s fun to watch,” she chirped, “and he does very good, um, sonnets.” She had never stammered in her life and she thought sonnets were idiotic, even when written by Shakespeare. But she supposed she ought not to be surprised. Love (and she was convinced this was love, because in all of her fourteen years of experience she’d never felt anything like this) did crazy things to people. Including make them like sonnets. “Besides, his comedies are very good. You should give them a shot! You might like them. Twelfth Night is my favorite.” It had a girl accomplishing things. She didn’t like the “being dressed up as a man” aspect, but other than that it was pretty good.

“Girls need girl time.” She nodded wisely and a little too rapidly, maybe, and then stopped herself and chided herself for being so silly. “It’s a rule. Dunno why.” She never had girl time. What was the point? It was more fun to bug them. But she couldn’t help the smug smile. “They’re both bent to my will. They’re scared of me. It’s good.”

[Elliot Morrow]

Okay, Brea was a little too smart for her own good, clearly. Elliot managed an amused smile. “True. I can give you that. But they’re still more logical, and always will be more logical, than poetry.” He was intrigued by her teacher, though. It was a nice theory, he supposed. In theory. “They can be, but it’s nothing anyone can’t fix.” Unless you were Caleb. He really needed to help him with his electronics. Still, he smiled at her. She could think what she wanted about poetry, but he wasn’t going to be convinced otherwise. “The only time Shakespeare is fun to my knowledge is when it’s performed by the Reduced Shakespeare Company.” Another highlight of his high school English class. It was all kinds of ridiculous, and had actually earned a few laughs out of him. Still, Brea was trying so hard. He had to give her something. “All right, all right. I’ll look up Twelfth Night and tell you what I think.” Maybe that would make her happy.

Or play to the idea that she could change men for the better. Hmm.

“Scared of you, really?” Elliot arched an eyebrow. “You must be terrifying at home.” Honestly, he didn’t see how scary she was at the moment. “I’m glad you have them in line, though. Boys can be trouble.”

[Brea White]

Although she didn’t want to contradict the future First Husband of the United States, she thought that it would be bad to start the relationship on a lie. No, definitely better to be honest. “Only to someone who isn’t a poet.” But she smiled at him in a way that she hoped wasn’t too simpering because she liked him. She liked him a lot. But she didn’t want to simper. Ever. She blinked herself out of it. “What’s the Reduced Shakespeare Company, anyways?” They didn’t have anything like that come out to Hammel. Still, she had to brighten when he said he’d look up the play. He’d read something she liked! Good. That was very, very good. He was already going to be hers.

She’d just let him know that when she was eighteen. Four years was a good long time to get him thoroughly ensnared.

She made sure she looked slightly shy and slightly sheepish. “Well, I’m not that scary. But I make them think I am. It’s a mind game, you see.” This wasn’t helping her case. “Exactly! But not you,” she added hastily. “You’re not trouble.” She wasn’t helping her case. It was time to leave. She managed a smile and stood up. “I should, um, get going. But are you here a lot?”

[Elliot Morrow]

Elliot had to relent just a little bit. He couldn’t continue to crush her ideas, now could he? That was just rude. “All right, you win. But I’m clearly not a poet.” Which was just one more reason that he couldn’t wait for the semester to be over. ... Provided he passed English. That was still a stretch sometimes. “Oh. They’re a group of three guys that essentially perform the entire works of Shakespeare in about an hour and a half. They’re quite funny.” And had made the Bard’s stuff worth watching. Then again, it was three guys, one often in terrible drag, running around like lunatics. What wasn’t to like?

Sadly, by the time Brea was eighteen, Elliot would only be four years worth more ensnared by his boyfriend. Sorry, Brea.

He smiled easily at her when she turned innocent. It was a look he was all too used to seeing on his cousins’ faces. But Brea seemed more innocent, somehow. And cute. In a little girl way. “Good. It’s always best to keep brothers in line.” At least she had brothers to keep her safe. “Well, thank you. I try not to be trouble.” Just don’t talk to Caleb or his cousins. He had to admit that he was slightly disappointed when she went to move. She’d been a fantastic distraction. “Sometimes. I like working here rather than the University library.” And not just because no one sidled up to ask for computer help here. “So I’m sure we’ll see each other again. Until then, it was very nice to meet you, Brea.” He gave her a little smile. She really was a sweet kid.