Page 4 of No Interest in Love

“Smart. My bud Landon has a tat on his ass from one of those ‘artists.’ He keeps talking about getting it removed.”

He laughs, and “Linds” comes back, nearly dry everywhere but her hair and bikini. She bites her lip and kneels between us at the edge of the pool. Travis puts his hand on her shoulder.

“Just your name is okay, if you don’t mind,” she says, setting the Sharpie in my hand. I wait for a shirt or a pad of paper or something to sign, but she pushes her chest at me, and I laugh as I raise an eyebrow to Travis. He waves his hand, like, “Go for it.”

I bite the cap off the marker and shake my hand out. I’ve practiced signing my stage name for when this happens. Since I was fifteen, actually. It’s in the edges of The Playbook. I’ve signed it with my right hand, my left hand, attempted it with my toes. I closed my eyes, wrote it upside down, and then about a hundred times in a row. No big deal. I can write eleven letters in order—though I’ve never done it on skin before.

The redhead coughs quietly, and I flick my gaze up at her soft and shy smile. Don’t think I could ask for a better specimen to take away my autograph virginity. Swallowing hard, I settle my hand on the upper curve of this woman’s freckled and blushed boob, and start theJ. It faces the right direction. And so does theaand thesand so on.

I got this.

Everything’s coming up Jace today.

11:08P.M.

The second I get back to the room, I blurt out, “Someone had me sign her ches—”

But Shay’s not there. And after a few seconds the sound of the shower registers in my ears. It’s just as well. I’m not sure she’d appreciate the taste of fame I just experienced via a magnificent breast. Though she may voice her enthusiasm for me spelling my stage name right on the first try.

Nah, enthusiasm is too strong a word for Shay. Maybe she’ll say “Awesome” in a monotone with a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips. Which, for me, is just as good.

After changing, I snatch up the remote and snap the TV on. Carletta’s last movie is On Demand, so I purchase it while Shay’s still showering, since we’re on her agency’s dime and I don’t want the “Only the necessary purchases, Jace” lecture.

Carletta does the chick-flick stuff, but she’s good. Funny. I honestly wouldn’t have watched all her movies but my ex—for lack of a better description—Penny got real turned on by the romantic comedies.

The leading man in this is awkward, but he wins the girl because the script says he will. The Screenwriter of the Universe thinks he’s a real funny guy. Where are the girls I’ve seen movies about? The kick-ass woman with red lips at the bar who can’t stop looking at your junk and slips you her number or, even better, the number to her hotel room. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, and on to the next. They have to exist. But the screenwriter ofJace: The Real Life Moviehas failed to write her in.

So far I’ve encountered Miss Clingy, Miss Throws Her Drink in Your Face, and Miss Falls in Love After You Say “Nice Dress.”

But not only is Carletta Ocean (Miss Sure Thing) cool with the casual fling, this woman needs no body double. Toned and soft, curvy and thin, and the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen on-screen. Not gonna lie, I want her. And she wants me. Yeah, baby, yeah.

I start twerking a little and slap an imaginary ass. After a dry spell of over…well, it’s been a while. I’m a little exuberant over it. I probably should relieve pressure so I can bring my A game. But I don’t think I can do that in the same hotel room as Shay. We’re not entirely professional all the time, but I ain’t risking her walking in as I give myself a happy ending.

I move my eyes back to Carletta on the screen as I flop on the edge of the bed. She’s just run into the guy for the third time in the first twenty minutes. See, in love-type movies when two people keep running into each other, they end up jumping in the sack eventually, usually by the third or fourth encounter, believing that some sort of fate is pushing them to fall in love and shit.

The door to the bathroom opens, and I turn the volume down a few notches. Shay’s dressed in two-sizes-too-big sweats and a spaghetti-strap shirt that has the Google logo across the chest. The circles in theg’s are right over herc’s. It’s hilarious.

Way back when we met, I thought I was headed toward the “fated bang” with Shay, but so far I’ve steered clear of it, even though Screenwriter of the Universe seems determined that our lives are somehow intertwined.

SHAY,SCENEONE:Setting:freshman year at NYU (Shay’s junior year).Bunch of us wanted to screw around in Times Square for S&Gs and started teasing the costumed characters walking up and down the streets. I managed to get a good hold of the Toys R Us Elmo’s head as I ran past, popping it off and bolting. Yeah, I was eighteen and thought I was the shit. And the short chick in the Elmo costume caught up and whacked me in the stomach with the giant Elmo shoe she had ripped off of her foot.

“Some of us have to make money, you asshole!” she screamed, thumping me over and over in the gut with that fuzzy red boot. She had to be just over five feet, with narrowed almond eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses and a mess of black hair falling out of her loose ponytail.

I cracked up and handed the Elmo head back between blows. She jammed it on and then crossed her arms, staring at me from behind the mask. It was hardly intimidating, since Elmo was smiling and looked as friendly as ever, but the expression I imagined was still entertaining as hell. She stalked off and got a bunch of tourists to take pictures with her for tips. Funny thing, lots of people got a shot of her contorted face while she was fighting me off with her shoe, a few videos even, and she became a well-known Internet meme. It went viral before people even knew what that term meant. She was the top Google search until Grumpy Cat came along. Now she’s just known as “Elmo Girl” around the Internet.

Honestly, I never thought I’d see her again. Well, in person. Saw her all the time on my Facebook wall.

“We need more auditions for you like these,” Shay says, making me jolt a little on my bed.

“Damn, make a noise or something when you walk into a room.”

“Ididmake a noise.” She shakes her wet hair back, pulling it into her signature pen-holder bun. She nods at Miss Sure Thing on the screen. “We need more romantic comedy auditions. Get girls to like you and you’ll snag jobslike that.” She snaps her fingers, then tosses her brush into her bag.

“The ladies already like me.” I grin, thinking about the girl from the pool.

“Not all of them,” she lilts, tossing her towel onto the floor. I raise my eyebrow at it, because she’s not the type of person to leaveanythingon the floor. Ever.

“You say that, but you know you like me a little bit.” I pinch my thumb and forefinger together, but she doesn’t even look in my direction.

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