How (Not) to Fall in Love by Lisa Brown Roberts

Charlie and Lucas. Every time I made them laugh I felt like I’d earned the right to hang out a little longer. I could even make eye contact with Lucas without breaking a sweat. Laughing with him felt natural and easy. He’d nicknamed me Shaker Girl, since I was so obsessed with Charlie’s collection. I contemplated getting the words tattooed on my thigh every time I passed the Inkheart tattoo parlor.
    Charlie and I talked about everything. He told me stories about my dad from when they were kids. According to Charlie, my dad didn’t always have a stick up his ass. He’d actually been fun sometimes.
    “From the moment you were born, you became the most important thing in Ty’s life,” Charlie said one day while I sorted through a box of books.
    I set aside a few regency romances to borrow later. Maybe it was because Mom had named me after a character in a Jane Austen novel, but I loved to immerse myself in a world full of gentleman callers with impeccable manners and dry wit. Guys who said all the right things and made a girl feel treasured.
    I ran my hands over the worn cover of a paperback featuring a perfect couple dancing in a ballroom. Nobody was dropping by my house leaving calling cards or inviting me on carriage rides. Or texting to ask me to a movie. I couldn’t even get my dad to return my calls. I sure didn’t feel like the most important thing in his life.
    “It’s true,” Charlie insisted, reading my doubtful expression. “I know Ty can be intense. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”
    Of course he loved me. I just didn’t know how much he liked me. I wasn’t his dream daughter, I knew that. I’d rather curl up and read than prance around on the stage telling people to “plant their dream crop.”
    “I don’t think I have any of his DNA,” I said with a sigh. “At all.”
    “I disagree,” said Charlie. “You’re a natural with customers. Liz can’t believe her good luck.”
    I flushed with pride. But still, making somebody coffee wasn’t exactly comparable to standing on a stage inspiring thousands of people.
    Charlie watched me closely, then tossed a dust rag at me and grinned. “Get busy, Shaker Girl.”
    O ne afternoon, Lucas and I were in the middle of a fake karate fight over a Pokémon T-shirt we both wanted when the Halloween cackle announced Aphrodite herself. Lucas froze mid-action move. I snatched the T-shirt away from him, declaring victory by forfeiture, but Lucas was in a daze.
    “Hi, Lucas,” said the girl. From the way she looked at him, and the way he suddenly forgot I was there, I realized she must be his girlfriend. How could he not have a supermodel for a girlfriend?
    “Uh, um,” he stammered. “Darcy, this is Heather. Heather, Darcy.”
    “Hi,” I said, forcing a smile. I felt like a ragged shepherd in the Nativity play, standing next to a glowing angel.
    She glanced at me, barely making eye contact. “Hi.” Then she returned her focus to Lucas. They’d both forgotten I was there.
    I headed to the back storeroom to calm my nerves and dig through boxes, looking for salt and pepper shakers, my comfort kitsch. The last thing I needed was to watch Lucas drooling over some gorgeous girl. I’d told Sal that Lucas and I were friends, nothing more, and I told myself that, too. Constantly.
    As I dug through boxes of donations, getting newspaper ink all over my hands, Lucas poked his head in the storeroom. “I’ve gotta go,” he said, sounding anxious. “Charlie should be back anytime. You got it under control until then?” He glanced toward the door and I knew he was dying to chase after the angel.
    “Sure.” I forced a smile. “Have fun.”
    He gave me an odd look, then grabbed his backpack and left without saying anything else.
    I wondered what it would be like to have him chase me down like that. “Give it up, Shaker Girl,” I whispered. I opened another box and my mood lifted when I spotted the Scooby-Doo and Shaggy salt and pepper