“I have this friend—”

“No.”

“No, really, he’s great—”

“Scott, no! Seriously!”

“His name is Sasha, and—”

“I said no! Wait—his name is Sasha?”

“Yeah. It’s ‘Alex’ in Russian. His name is Alex, but he likes to be different.” He had me hooked, and he knew it. Darn it, Scott! I think as I consider his offer.

“All right… I’ll meet him. But I swear, if he turns out to be weird, creepy, addicted to anything, legal or illegal, I will skewer you with a shish kebab stick!” I warn, adding hand gestures for emphasis.

“He’s not! He’s cool. You’ll like him.” I roll my eyes at him, but really, I am interested. I trust Scott’s judgment even if I don’t say so, and have since infancy, literally. See, Scott is my uncle, even though he’s only a year older than me, and we’ve been stuck together since the moment I got home from the hospital. Of course, at one, he just thought I was a squirmy little maggot that got more attention than him and was fun to prod, but as we got older, I got more human-like, and we became friends.

He’s also like my big brother. He tries to set me up with his friends constantly, and they nearly always turn out to be weird, obsessive, ugly, or possessing some other undesirable trait that drives me up a wall. He says by screening my boyfriends he’s “protecting me,” but I know better. He just has a whole lot of desperate friends.

So, as my uncle, brother, and best friend for the last sixteen years, Scott has done what was thought impossible: he has kept me (too) safe, (socially) unavailable, and (in)sane.

The number of guys I date at the hands of Scott is endless, and the list of guys that I have gone out with more than once, very short. Scott calls me picky, I call the guys he sets me up with “unpickable.”

Two of the guys on the short list happen to be Scott’s best friends, Preston Ross and Caleb McKinney. It wasn’t anything serious, but Preston and I dated for two months, Caleb and I, three weeks. And yes, three weeks is a long time for me. People at school call me a player for going through guys so fast, and a slut for dating Caleb and Preston, who are best friends. Especially outgoing (jerky) people will occasionally come up and ask when my uncle and I are going to start dating. If Scott is nearby when they do, I say, “Oh, we are!” run up, and hug him passionately. Scott’s so awesome he just plays along, even when I tackle him mid-conversation.

I generally hang out with Scott, Preston, and Caleb during lunch (another reason my social life isn’t booming: I hang out with obnoxious seniors). Girls get to know me so they can get to them. After a girl I thought was my friend stopped talking to me when she got Scott to date her, I stopped making girl friends, save one: Chloe Sexton.

I hated Chloe when I first met her. She was loud, nosy, and giggly. But, as she kept pursuing a friendship with me, I eventually let her in. And boy, has she stayed in. Unlike me, she has other friends that are girls, but somehow, I never feel left out. Chloe’s just awesome like that.

She has this annoying theory, though.

“Oh, God, I wish you and Scott weren’t related,” she said one night after pizza with the boys.

“Why?” I had asked, perplexed.

“He’d be so perfect for you! You guys would fit like—like this!” She meshed her fingers together.

“Ew,” I had replied. “Scott is… Scott. Ew.”

“It’s not gross, and you know it. Damn, why does he have to be your uncle? You don’t even look alike, really!” It’s true. We don’t. My hair is light brown, his is white blonde. My eyes are brown, his are green. I am undeniably curvy, he can eat thirty Twinkies for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the rest of his life and not gain an ounce (lucky bastard). “Such cute little babies you’d make!”

“EW!” I shrieked, covering my ears. “Incest! So wrong!” I’m used to Chloe’s outrageous comments, but that had been just gross to think about.

So—back to this “Sasha” person.

“I’ll make you a deal,” I tell Scott, putting an arm around his shoulder. We’re sitting in his car, where he brought up the conversation. We’d better not be late for school. “I’ll take a look at this guy, but you have to promise—if he turns out to, I don’t know, think that walnuts are out for world domination or something and won’t shut up about it, you have to promise to never set me up with someone ever again. Deal?”

“You’re so weird. Walnuts?” I just glare at him through my eyelashes. “Fine, deal. I don’t know how you expect to get a guy if I don’t set you up with them, though. I pay all of them.” I hit him not-so-lightly, and he smirks. “You’ll like this kid, really.”

“Younger or older?” I ask with a sigh, going through the normal questions.

“Older.”

“Not another college guy…” I groan.

“Oh, no. He’s a senior, goes to our school.”

“Scott, I would’ve noticed a guy named ‘Sasha’ roaming around,” I drawl. Scott rolls his eyes and starts the car, pulling out of my driveway and heading towards school.

“He’s new. Started yesterday,” he explains. Damn. I always feign sick on days that something actually happens. “You’ll meet him at lunch.” I moan and put my head in my hands. Lunch introductions Scott, Preston, and Caleb style were always mortifying. I left my tranquilizer gun by the door! Shoot.

A/N:

EDIT 06/13/08: I've decided to reformat all of the LYU chapters to something less ... author-intrusive. It's just going to be the chapter and then maybe a short note by me, no Review Responses (not because I don't love you, but because it's taking away from the story - sorry dolls!) I'm hoping this will make it seem more professional and less ... well, all over the place.

Later on I'll combine a few of the shorter chapters and make everything more even. But, we'll save that for the major editing.

Finally, thanks for reading. I truly appreciate your feedback and support. You guys make life worth living, and I mean that, in the least creepy way possible. Love!

Julia