Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
It is true. I know it, intellectually, even if it took all this time to really feel the truth of it in my gut. I’m finally over the fatal sting of his duplicity (even if there will always be a fiery asterisk beside his name). I sit down beside her on the sofa. “I know.”
“Not every guy is a Rob.”
“Well, I certainly hope so, because I’m supposed to be optimistic that my soulmate will appear beside me on camera soon.”
She stands, crossing the room to the ornate bar cart and pouring us each a small glass of whiskey. “So you’re confident that Connor’s team has done a good job casting?”
“Seems like it.” I take the tumbler with a smile and sip, letting the heat trail down my throat and settle gently in my stomach. “I get the sense that he’s been very, very picky.”
“That’s good.” She swirls her drink. “He seems like a thoughtful guy.” A long, quiet pause. “I wonder how this is for him. I got the sense tonight that maybe he’s into you, too.”
“I mean, I think he’s attracted to me.” I tilt the glass, letting the light catch the amber liquid. “He admitted earlier that he didn’t turn me down because he wasn’t interested.”
“Of course not, look at you.”
“Now that I’m in Connor-free air and can think clearly again, I sort of wish I didn’t know, though,” I admit. “Knowing he’s attracted to me, too, has made me into a demon. I want what’s in his pants.”
She shakes her head at me. “Focus on the show. When does filming start?”
“Five weeks.”
“And did you settle on a schedule?”
Nodding, I take another sip of my drink before answering. “He sent it over this morning to see if I had any notes. The first week is coffee dates. We all do testimonials about how it went, then the show airs and the audience votes to eliminate two based on who they think I vibed with most, and so on. The final two contestants will meet my family. I’m pretending that part isn’t happening.” Jess makes a sympathetic good luck with that face. “After that is the finale, where we find out if the audience picked my soulmate as predicted by DNADuo. The winner of the audience vote gets $100,000, and then I get to choose who goes with me on a trip to Fiji. So yay.”
“Funny, that doesn’t sound like excitement I’m hearing.”
I dig around in my head and my gut, searching for a convincing reply. “Sure, I’m excited.”
“Fizzy, this is such a cool thing you get to do! You get to have eight romance heroes compete for your heart!”
“I know,” I whine. “But Connor’s thighs could crush me like a grape. I want that, just once before I meet a different kind of prince.” Jess laughs as I lean my head back against the couch, sighing. “I swear, I just need to get him out of my system.”
“That is literally your least favorite romance trope.”
Lifting my head again, I lament, “Yes, but who knew it was a real thing!”
“No one!” she yells back. “Because it isn’t!” She throws up her hands. “Okay, seriously. No more of these dates with him.”
“They aren’t dates,” I argue. “They’re joy excursions.”
“Fizzy. Be serious.”
“What! I am being serious! He does ocean conservation documentaries. I wanted him to know this audience.”
“Do you feel like he does now?”
A shiver spreads through me, warm but still unsettling. “He does, and watching him not only open his eyes to this side of the industry but also enjoy it has been… I mean, it’s been really nice. It isn’t just that he’s hot. I like being around him. He’s fun. He’s funny. And maybe my favorite thing of all is how he isn’t cowed by my shit. I daresay he might like it.”
Gross. Feelings.
“That’s important for a producer, too,” Jess says.
Groaning, I fall sideways into the couch beside her. “If he would just fuck me, I’d be over this already.”
Jess runs her fingers into my hair, scratching gently. “Actually, I don’t think you would.”
twenty CONNOR
I should have foreseen that extremes are the norm with Fizzy, and that our time together would be the most fun I’ve ever had with someone but also the most torturous. Over several weeks, The True Love Experiment begins to take shape, and Fizzy and I skive off every Friday in our continued search for joy. We take the train to the Broad Museum and talk about quiet, introspective joy. We visit the Last Bookstore nearby, where she buys me a collector’s edition of ’Salem’s Lot, and I buy her a framed cover of one of her favorite romance novels. The following week, she treats the entire crew to tickets to a live showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I get home that night and drink more than I probably should, all in an effort to clear my head of the way her entire being lights up inside when she’s letting loose, how badly she sings and how much I adore that she does it with gusto anyway, how she takes the adoration from the crew and returns it to them, doubled, and how I’m beginning to abhor the prospect of her finding true love in only a handful of weeks.