Page 19 of You're The One
“Cool. Cool.”
Why the hell am I being so awkward?I usually click with everyone. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be vibing with her. My leg bounces, trying to shake off whatever this is. “Would I know anything you’ve been in?”
She giggles,again. “Probably not. Aspiring actress is more accurate, but manifestation and all that, right?”
“Definitely.”
I’m not sure I buy into the whole “dream it and it’ll come” thing. From what I’ve seen, it takes work. And even then, things don’t always go the way you hope. Is this going to be one of those times…NO.
Fuck.
Were the cameras always this close? I catch sight of a mic tech and cameraman in my periphery, and suddenly I can’t unsee them.
There are candles flickering on the table in front of us, casting soft, golden light that probably reads romantic on camera. In real life, it feels… fake.
Every “location” has felt that way. And there’s a handful of women whose intentions don’t feel quite right, either.
“So, when was your last relationship?” Her hand lands on my thigh, dragging me back into the moment.
One more point of contact.
I take a sip of my Perrier and reset my smile.I can do this.“I’ve never really had a relationship. What about you?”
“Me neither. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you towantto settle down.” Her lips curl into a teasing smile as her hand slides slowly up and down my thigh.
I can’t blame her for the assumption. I’ve never done much to change the media’s perception of me. Partier. Playboy. Perpetual bachelor. I never really refuted the labels, and I’ve played into them more times than I care to admit. I never had a reason not to.
But I want one.
I think my desire for something real and meaningful has always been there… I’ve just never known how to get it. How to make it work. Most of what I know about love comes from books and movies, not from growing up with a great example of it.
Getting my physical needs met was easy, and I was okay witheasy.Until it started being… unsatisfying.
“It wouldn’t be hard. I’m ready.”
She tilts her head, and I know she’s not buying it.
“What made you want to be here?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence.
They make it look so easy on TV. And Ryan and Hannah’s relationship lacks any of this awkwardness. Even when they were fooling themselves with “fake” dating, it still looked effortless.
“You, silly.” She laughs, a little too high-pitched. “I’ve been following you for a while?—”
“Oh, you’re a hockey fan?” I don’t think I’ve ever hoped so hard for ayesin my life, just to have something to connect on.
“Not really. I like all sports.” She twirls a piece of bleach-blonde hair around one manicured finger. “I guess I just have a thing for athletes. My ex played for the Los Angeles…” She pauses, searching for the name. “…whichever team. James Rota. You’ve heard of him?”
So much for not dating. Now we’re name-dropping NBA exes? Is she a jersey chaser?
I nod and take another sip of my water.
The rest of our conversation follows the same pattern: shallow questions met with answers that add to the nagging feeling in my gut.
Am I in over my head?
I try to stay open-minded, but the longer we talk, the more worried I become. Why did I think this would be any different from all those dead-end dates this summer?
Christ, I’m turning into Volkov.Or Mia’s shit attitude is rubbing off on me…
