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)
A pause while he waits for confirmation in his earbud. “You’re good.”
It takes him a moment to meet my eyes and arrange his face into a suitably pleasant—though not too pleasant—expression. “How are you feeling today heading into your last date?”
“Aren’t you going to ask me about last night?”
He pauses, clearing his throat. “Yes. Right. Let’s start over with that. How was last night for you?”
“It was hard,” I say.
He waits uneasily for me to say more, like he knows I’m a live bomb. I should wax on about the date yesterday; that’s my job, to talk. But everything goes blank inside.
Finally: “Hard, why?”
I want to laugh at this. Hello, Connor, last night was hard because you barely looked at me and I want this show to be amazing so that your career takes off and you fall back in love with me. But sadness is an ache I feel I need to continually swallow around, and turns out, sadness also makes it hard to laugh.
I reach for the water off to the side and twist off the cap, taking a sip. Count to ten, one more sip, and do your damn job, Fizzy.
“Last night was hard because I realize it might have been the last date ever with Isaac.”
There. Just there. A tiny tic in his jaw. “Unless he wins, which it seems your parents would like very much.” He’s making his voice warm and amiable, leaning into his accent and that honeyed charm, but I know him. I see the tightness in his expression.
We do know each other, he’d said. Getting to know each other has been our singular focus for months.
I try to put on a natural grin. “Yes, my parents loved him.”
He swallows. “We had a long conversation last night about why Isaac would be perfect for you.”
“Is that right?”
Connor reaches for his own water, strangling down some unreadable expression. “They’ve met Evan before, right?” I am genuinely impressed—and annoyed—with how quickly he reined that in. I’m trash for his jealousy. I want to eat it slathered on toast.
“Yes,” I say. “He’s my brother’s friend.”
“And what did they think?”
“I don’t think he made much of an impression at the time. But he is objectively amazing. And hot.”
“Well, as producer and part of the team who cast him, I’ll take that compliment,” Connor says smoothly, the little gleam in his eye telling me he sees exactly what I’m doing. “As our One That Got Away, he’ll be having dinner with your best friend, Jessica, and her husband, River Peña, who also happens to be the inventor of the DNADuo technology.”
“That’s right. Make sure to mention that a lot. River loves attention.”
Connor laughs, shoulders relaxing. “You’re going to be in top form tonight, I see.”
“It’s my last date night. How disappointed would everyone be if I was tame and well behaved?”
“We would all be devastated.” The heat of his smile warms me to my marrow. How can he not see how good we are together? “How are you feeling entering this final date?”
“Relieved.”
“Relieved why?”
“Because it means soon I can stop pretending I want someone other than you.”
Connor goes silent, looking jerkily around at the cameras aimed at each of us. “Fizzy, you—you can’t say that.”
“Edit it out, then.”
He reaches forward and gently switches one camera off, then the other. We both reach up, turning off our mics. Connor removes his earpiece and lets out a long exhale. “Shit.”
“I miss you,” I say once I know we’re really alone. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am for what I did. I know I said you aren’t the man I thought you were, but I was just scared.”
“I know.”
“You’re exactly who I need you to be.”
He doesn’t say anything, but the light catches the top of his hair when he bends to rest his head in his hands.
“I hate this,” I say. I suck in a deep breath. “I hate the thought of ending up with someone other than you. I’m fickle about everything but this, Connor. I’m sorry I hurt you. I meant what I sai—”
“I know.” His voice is calm, but resolute, and I realize what’s coming when he sits up and meets my gaze. He’s going to find a new way to let me down easy. How many times am I going to ask this man to reject me? “And I’m so sorry I’ve put you in this position,” he says. “I’m sorry that I’ve contributed to what you’re struggling with. I’m sorry you have to pretend to want one of these remaining Heroes. But you’re so good on this show, Fizz. Every day I feel like the smartest man alive for casting you.” We stare at each other for a long pause. I silently repeat over and over that I love him. I’m making up for a lifetime of never having said it, and even if he doesn’t feel the same, it feels so good to shout it with my gaze.