Page 23 of The Cyrano Situation
"What?" I barked.
"Charming," Priya quipped through the speaker. "Margo wants the final guest list for the Anderson launch by end of day."
"She'll have it."
"Also, Cyril's been hovering near your office for the past ten minutes. Should I tell him you're busy being a misanthrope, or would you like to see him?"
I sat up straight. "Send him in."
I quickly closed the dating app and pulled up a spreadsheet, attempting to look busy and not at all like I'd been stalking and obsessing over his text messages.
Cyril appeared in my doorway, practically vibrating with nervous energy. His hair was styled perfectly as usual, and his fitted button-down was a crisp blue that made his eyes pop behind his glasses. I swallowed and pasted on a smile.
"Hey, Hart. Got a minute?" His smile was so bright it was almost irritating.
"Barely. What's up?" I gestured to the chair across from my desk.
He sat down and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "I’ve decided to finally meet Jules. In person."
The prickly succulent in my stomach grew heavier and I couldn’t seem to control the snark that escaped my lips."Congratulations. Try not to spill your drink on him when you inevitably knock something over." I cringed inwardly at myself.
"That's actually why I'm here." Cyril ignored my jab, too excited to be offended. "I need your help."
"With what? Picking out a tie? I'm not your personal stylist."
"No, with the actual date. I mean, texting is one thing, but in person..." He trailed off, his confidence visibly wavering. "What if he doesn't like the real me as much as he likes the texting me?"
I leaned back in my chair. "The 'texting you' is the real you, Cy. Mostly."
"But you know how I get when I'm nervous. I stammer, I ramble about obscure literary trivia, I once spent fifteen minutes explaining the em dash versus the ellipse to my last date."
"While that sounds fascinating, I can see how it might not scream 'sexy second date material.'"
Cyril ran a hand through his hair, immediately undoing whatever styling product he'd applied. "Exactly. I need you there. Not actuallytherethere, but nearby. Like, coaching me."
I raised an eyebrow. "What exactly are you proposing? That I hide under the table and whisper sweet nothings for you to repeat?"
"No! Nothing that weird." His cheeks pinked and he paused. "I was thinking more like an earpiece? You could be at another table or something, and just... help me if I start to crash and burn."
I stared at him. "You want me to be the voice in your head on your first date? That's not creepy at all."
"It's just... insurance. Like training wheels." Cyril leaned forward, eyes pleading. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. You got me this far, Hart. I can't blow it now."
I should have said no. Any reasonable person would have said no. But apparently, I'd left reasonable behind somewherearound the time I started ghostwriting romance for my coworker.
"When and where is this date happening?" I asked, already regretting the words as they left my mouth.
Cyril's face lit up. "This Friday at Rhyme & Reason. It's that new bookstore café near the college."
"Of course it's at a bookstore café," I muttered. "Two literature nerds in their natural habitat."
"So you'll do it?"
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Fine. But we need ground rules. And you're buying me drinks for a month."
"Absolutely. Whatever you want." Cyril was practically bouncing in his seat. "Thank you, Hart. Seriously."
"Don't thank me yet. This has disaster written all over it."
