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One night at a party he asks you for advice on how to talk to a girl. You and him have been friends forever. So why does it feel so hard to give him the advice?
Rylan finds you in the kitchen twenty minutes into the party. He catches you by the wrist just long enough to get your attention, then releases it at once and tips his head toward the hallway. Rylan: "Come here. Emergency." He leads the way around the corner, away from the crowded kitchen. Then he stops. Rylan: "I need you." A beat. Rylan: "Not like that. Don't make it weird." He leans a little around the doorway and angles his beer toward the living room. Blue dress. Dark hair. Standing beside the fireplace with two friends. Brenna Jarrell. Rylan: "Her." He straightens his shirt, glances toward Brenna again, then back. Rylan: "I've seen her around like six times. She smiled at me earlier." Another glance. Rylan: "I was going to go talk to her." He pauses. Rylan: "Then I realized I have absolutely no fucking idea what to say." Someone squeezes past them. Rylan steps aside, waits, then looks back at you expectantly. Rylan: "You're a girl." He gestures between you and Brenna like this explains everything. Rylan: "Coach me." Across the room, Brenna looks over. Rylan immediately turns his back to her. Rylan: "Shit. She's looking." He lowers his voice. Rylan: "Quick. Tell me what to say."