Page 1 of No Interest in Love

Sunday

8:30P.M.

I was fifteen years old when I told myself I wanted to become an actor. I’d just gotten my ass kicked by Sonya Lopez’s older brother because I’d stood her up. And, yeah, I probably deserved it. I fawned over that girl, took two years to get the courage to ask her out, did all that girly shit by writing her name anywhere I could (Well, practicing writing her name. Took me a few months to get all the letters in the right place). I used to find excuses to talk to her, a lot of times relying on her help to read something in the daily reading assignment in English. I had a specialist in the room, but I wantedSonya’s help. (Dyslexia’s a bitch.)

I daresay that I was in love at fifteen, or whatever the version of “in love at fifteen” is. Then I overheard her in a conversation with her friends the day of the date, and to this day I remember it perfectly.

“You want to hang tonight?” her friend asked. (Yeah, it’s been ten years, so I don’t remember her name, just that she had really big front teeth.)

Sonya shook her head. “I’m hanging out with Jace Carver.” And I was about to do the most confident thing I’ve ever done and wrap my arms around her waist in front of everybody, but the next words out of her mouth stopped my feet. “Not really hanging out, though. I mean, he probably just wants me to help him read something again.” And they all laughed and giggled and my fifteen-year-old heart snapped in half and fell in an embarrassed pile on the floor. I left it there in the hallway; I bet the high school kids now can still see it lying there.

So I stood her up, her brother pummeled my face in (I wasn’t as bulked up as I am now, poor fifteen-year-old me), and I ended up camping out in my basement, avoiding Grandma as much as I could because no way in hell could she see me for at least a week. I turned on toHow I Met Your Mother,and the particular episode playing, “The Playbook,” became the foundation to my life’s goals.

See, I was a scrawny teenager who couldn’t read and so I was an asshole to everyone because they couldn’t possibly understand. After seeing that episode, I started jotting down my own Playbook—a list of “characters” I can choose to be whenever the hell I want. I was the smart nerd one day, a football player the next, the mysterious artistic dude or the obnoxious clown. My life became a movie, and everyone in it became actors in a script with constant plot twists. Instead of Mr. Scrawny Extra, I became Mr. Kickass Lead. I even have a bio for myself.

Character bio: Jace Carver (aka: Mr. Kickass Lead)

Talented, witty, and most important,hilariousguy who doesn’t get suckered into that silly little thing called love. After testing out his many personalities, he’s settled on the Goofball Player. Good in the sack and surprisingly rich.

I’m still working on that last one. Right now, in fact.

—

“Oh dear Lord,” Shay says when I open the door of our hotel room we have to share for the night. “It smells like ass in here.”

She wrinkles her tiny nose, pushing her red old-lady glasses up as she peers inside, but doesn’t move. I inhale deeply, noticing the assy scent, but even that can’t wipe the smile from my face.

Because I’m getting laid by the end of the week.

“I call the left one,” I say, dragging my carry-on bag across the room and claiming the bed by the window. The hotel room isn’t much, but it was this or a motel, and that one letter makes a whole lot of difference.

“That’s the one I want,” she says.

Iknewshe’d argue with me. Enter in Shay…

Character bio: Shaylene Kwak (aka: Agent from Hell; aka: Buzzkill; aka: Miss Very Unlikely Love Interest)

An organized, short, and oddly dressed Korean girl. She can dish out as much shit as she can take. Fun to mess around with, but not in the sheets.

I tilt an eyebrow at her suggestively. I’m already pushing my shoes off with my toes. “We can share. I don’t mind.”

Her tiny nose wrinkles again. “How did I know that would be your response?”

She plops her giant purse on the right-hand bed and blows out a large sigh. Shaking my head, I grab it by the strap and set it on the bed I clearly called dibs on.

“You can have it. I don’t want your mood to affect my buzz.”

She crosses her arms over her high-collared blue shirt. Shay’s always tried to give off the vibe that she’s commanding and intimidating when really it’s hilarious as hell.

“How can you be happy right now? Our flight was delayed. We should be in Alabama schmoozing up to Carletta and the casting director.”

Ah…Carletta.That’swhy I’m happy right now.

Carletta Ocean is famous, and not just for her acting. Rumor has it that she sleeps with every actor who plays opposite her, but just while shooting. She said in an interview once that it “helps create authentic chemistry.” Then, after however many months, it’s done. Clean-cut, no-mess sexual arrangement.

Those lucky bastards.

See, I haven’t been able to score with a woman in over…ah, hell, I don’t even like to think about it. Let’s just say it’s the driest of spells. It’s like the sandman has crash-landed in my shorts, and he’s taking forever to recover. That’s a plot twist I’m trying to straighten out. Damn screenwriter thinks he’s a funny guy. My balls have turned so blue, Smurfs look pale in comparison.

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