Page 34 of Love is an Open Book
Ditching these trope tests would be easier. We could go back to the way things were, and maybe my feelings would fade. But this was my idea, and Mia’s counting on me. I’ll just have to think of a way to figure out what’s real and what’s pretend.
According to the notes in the binder, the forced-proximity trope is when the main characters are stuck together in a situation, and the enforced time together changes their perspective or pushes their restraint to the breaking point.
It’s the last scenario that worries me. I can’t let my heart get confused, but then again, we’re only testing the trope for an hour—less, if we solve the clues quickly. Nothing like the weeks or months from the examples Mia outlined. My good intentions have survived years already. An hour should be a piece of cake.
The mall is pretty much deserted. Our first stop was the food court, where most of the tables were empty. Snacks in hand, we walk past vacant stores plastered with advertisements for local businesses and an eerily silent carousel. Mia stops to peer into a closed-up kids’ play area and I drift over next to her and say, “This is depressing.”
“So depressing,” she agrees. “It was bad before the movie theater closed but—” she nods at the deflated bouncy castles in the dark space behind the metal gate “—this is downright grim.”
I take a sip of my smoothie. “At least the food court is open.” I ordered the largest size, hoping it would settle my nerves, but my stomach is in knots, and I can barely swallow down the tangy blend of mango and banana.
“For who, though?” Mia takes a bite from the cinnamon-sugar pretzel I bought her. She was going to pass it up because it was overpriced. Even with the successful turn of her career, she doesn’t like spending money on frivolous things, other than office supplies. Buying her the pretzel was a small gesture, but I love any chance to treat her.
“Good question.” I glance around the empty concourse. “Anychance you want to switch genres to horror? This would make an epic zombie showdown setting.”
She visibly shudders, turning away from the abandoned store. “There are all sorts of paranormal romances. But you know how I feel about creepy stuff.”
The same way I feel about small spaces. The idea of being trapped in a confined space makes my skin crawl. Good thing the escape room is all for show. I double-checked the website, just to be sure. “Fun fact, we won’t actually be locked in the room today,” I tell Mia, mostly to reassure myself.
“Can you imagine the liability?” She plucks off a piece of sugar-dusted pretzel. “Might make it more exciting, though.”
Not for me. We don’t have many secrets between us, but pride has kept me from revealing how much I used to dread taking the elevator whenever I visited her high-rise apartment building in the city. But since the last trope test was a bust, I’m willing to endure an hour of confinement if it means helping Mia get past her creative block.
By my side, she pauses to check the mall directory, munching as she scans the listings. “Here it is.” She points out the spot, then seems to notice her finger is covered in sugar. Making a face, she asks, “Got a napkin?”
I shake my head, so she slips her finger into her mouth. Helpless to look away, I watch her suck the sugar off. Today her lips are the deep red of a ripe apple, and her confession replays on a loop.The only surprising thing is you thinking I haven’t already imagined how good you’d taste.Now I’m the one imagining her mouth on mine, sugary sweet, chased with the bite of cinnamon. Backing her against the map, hands pinned above her head, the teasing scrape of teeth on tender skin...
She slides her finger out of her mouth with an audiblepopand I force my gaze away, whole body ablaze. My best friend is more off-limits than ever thanks to the no-touching rule ofthese trope tests. Why has my brain decided right now is the time to fixate on how sexy she is?
I’ve always been attracted to her. The night we met, I wrestled with the temptation to tell her that ifIwas lucky enough to go out with someone as gorgeous and smart and clever as her, I’d never waste a second wanting anyone else. But I’ve never allowed myself to dwell on it. Not until this past week, when she’s all I can seem to think about.
I’ve kept my feelings for her in check all these years, even though she’s as beautiful in sweatpants as she is in the ball gowns she’s worn to premieres. But all evidence points to her not being attracted to me in the slightest.
There were times, early on, that I thought she might be ready to forget the pact we’d made to stay friends. But then she’d start dating a guy from class or show me the profile of someone she thought would make a great match for me, and I figured it was all in my head. Now I’m not so sure—
“Gavin?”
I blink, and she’s looking up at me with concern, like I missed a question. “You’ve been kind of off today. We don’t need to go through with this if you’re having second thoughts.”
Oh, I’m definitely havingthoughts. But not about the escape room. Not anymore. Desire for the woman standing in front of me has pushed all my worries to a far corner of my mind.
Well, most of them. “Are you?” I don’t want to pressure her into anything she’s not comfortable with, especially given my more-than-friendly thoughts. “Last week you thought this whole idea was nonsense.”
Her mouth tugs into a straight line. “Last week I thought I had months to finish the book.”
“Don’t you?”
“Turns out working with Hollywood is more complex, as if the last few years haven’t taught me that.” She explains that the lead actor for the season has a filming conflict, and the big-budget franchise film he was cast in won out over reprising his role in a streaming rom-com series. “I get it,” she says. “Rob’s just doing what he needs to for his career.”
Not for the first time, I’m floored that she’s on a nickname basis with movie star Robert Cho. But I don’t love how his priorities are complicating things for her. “Can’t they just push the season’s release date?”
She makes a face, mouth scrunched, a sugar crystal clinging to the corner of her lips, and I bite my tongue against the urge to brush it away with my thumb, or better yet—
“A delay might result in the series being canceled.” Her all-business tone should banish thoughts of kissing her, but it’s the opposite. She’s a powerhouse and hearing her casually talk about “the industry” is super sexy. “Hollywood is fickle like that. If the show’s final installment is a disaster, I don’t want it to be my fault.”
“Robert Cho’s schedule isn’t your responsibility,” I say, with a sense of surrealism that we’re even having this conversation.
“But it won’t be an issue if I meet the original deadline. Like I have for every other book.” The ferocity in her voice makes it clear how much she wants to conquer this story.
