Page 14 of Love is an Open Book
“Kissing is off the table,” I say, emphatic. Then, remembering to sell the idea that this is strictly for the book, I add, “For now. That needs to go in the contract.”
“Why aren’t you typing this?” she asks.
Good point. But right now, my computer is a reminder of how horrifically stuck I am, and looking at it might mess with my flow. I reach for the new notebook and feel a zing of triumph at putting it to good use. Opening to the first page, I write:
Rules for a (FAKE) date with my best friend
I notice Evie reading along, and rush to explain. “I’m getting in character, as Sydney.” Since I often journal in my characters’ point of views to get inside their heads, hopefully she accepts my explanation. Below the header, I write:
1. No kissing.
She laughs. “Can’t wait to see them break that one.”
“Yeah,” I say weakly. “Same.”
“What’s the angle?” She settles back in her chair, getting into the familiar rhythm of analyzing plot stakes. “Is fake dating meant to fool colleagues or their families and friends?”
Dammit. Why hadn’t I considered more people finding out? On one hand, it might be easier to fake romance on a double date with our friends Serafina and Joe. But we’ve known them since college—they’re expecting their first child after years of trying to conceive and already asked Gavin and me to be godparents. Involving them would make things way more complicated.
Same with Gavin’s family, but no worries over them findingout—they all live out of state. His brother and sister-in-law do spend about a month at Gavin’s dad’s tree farm every summer with their kids, but while Wisconsin is a lot closer than Colorado, the chances of them surprising Gavin with a visit are slim.
My sister and Ted, though, they’re the wild cards. I wouldn’t be shocked if they somehow caught us in the act. Kim has a knack for getting in my business. When I was sixteen and I finally worked up the nerve to tell my crush I liked him as we were leaving the homecoming dance, she interrupted us by pulling up to the curb and laying on the horn.
But even if she saw me and Gavin together, what would possibly give her the wrong idea? Unless we were holding hands or something...
2. No touching.
“Notouching?” Evie uses her hot-pink pen to cross that off. “How else will they sell it?” Her expression shifts, a gleam appearing in her golden-brown eyes. “Unless you want them to build up some serious tension that they need to work off with a sexy interlude.”
My writer brain jumps to the challenge and supplies images of all the ways the characters could work off tension. I rip my mind away before visions of Gavin slip in to replace Victor in that scenario. An overactive imagination is usually a blessing in my profession, but not in this case.
“Nope, you’re right.” I frantically scribble through that item on the list. “An embargo on touching would only make them want to touch more.” Exactly what we’d want for a romance novel, and exactly what I need to avoid with Gavin.
She narrows her eyes, and I realize how suspicious I’m acting. Not only is Evie really smart, she invents bonkers plots for a living, and I can’t have her turning her powers of speculation on me.
“They’re just doing it for a work thing,” I say, circling back to her question about their goals. After all, this is for my work, indirectly. Quickly, I add another point to the list:
2. Friends and family can’t find out.
“It’s going to be so wonderfully awkward when they get caught.” Evie’s gleeful words send a chill through me. Even if we manage to keep it a secret, this whole situation screams risky. Complicated, even with rules. With that in mind I write:
3. Nothing that happens on the date is real.
Evie is biting her lip, like she’s considering all the loopholes. Seeing the words inked on the page highlights the pitfalls of this plan in stark clarity.Nothingis real? What if we start talking about family drama, or what’s going on with work? Some things will inevitably be real, and how are we supposed to decide what to believe? It’s too ambiguous.
An idea begins to form. A way forward, when all I’ve seen for months are brick walls.
“What if it’s not a date?” I roll the possibility around in my mind, seeing it take shape. My original plan, courtesy of Kim’s pestering, was to shake up my routine by going on dates, but there are other ways. The same goes for my characters. If I can’t maneuver Victor and Sydney on a date, can I do the next best thing and have them fake romance another way?
I realize Evie is waiting on me to elaborate and I say, “Victor wants to break out and start getting contracts for big, sweeping novels with lots of characters. He needs to be able to narrate compelling scenes that run the gamut of human emotion. Everything from grief to elation to passion.”
“Okay,” she says hesitantly, clearly not following.
“Even though he went to acting school and did a few commercials and small TV roles, he’s rusty after years of narrating self-help books and how-to manuals.”
She makes a go-on gesture. “And?”
“What if Sydney acts out some scenes with him?” I can picture it unfolding, both of them tentative at first, then getting into character the more they practice. “It would be a safe space for him to get back into the swing of portraying hard-hitting, emotional moments. Romantic ones, too,” I add. “Fake dating, under the pretense of acting.”
