Page 33 of You're The One
I don’t regret skipping college. Not exactly. But sometimes I feel a little behind. Like I missed a step I was supposed to take, and now it’s too late to catch up.
I wish I could stand behind my choices the way he does.
I turn to Summer, figuring this is probably a good time to let them have their moment. “Do you know where the restrooms are?”
She gives me quick directions, and I slip away, spending longer than necessary trying to finger-comb the tangles out of my hair.
When I finally step out, I’m surprised to find Dominic leaning against the wall across from the door.
“Is this the only bathroom,” I ask, eyeing him, “or do you not even trust me to pee alone?”
He shakes his head. “Just wanted to catch you before we head out. What’d you decide on the date?”
He says it like we’re teammates, conferring on the next play.
“Ashley.”
“Ashley?” He repeats it slowly, brows pulling together. I can tell he’s trying to match the name to a face. “I’m not sure I remember her. You think we’d be a good match?”
“Definitely.” I manage to keep a straight face.
TWELVE
The little she-devilset me up.
Not only did Mia pair me with Ashley—who is perfectly nice, just not someone I have even the slightest spark with—but the producers decided to double down on Ashley’s interests. Which, apparently, includes… whatever the hellthisis.
To be fair, there are things I’m into on this date, mainly the promise of funnel cake. The date is part of a carnival setup on the beach, complete with fair games, copious fried food, and a guy on stilts. The way he manages to stay upright in the sand is impressive. And the lengths the show went to for this? Also impressive. But right now, we’re tucked inside a velvet-draped tent across from a woman named Esmerelda.
That can’t be her real name. Can it?
She just wrapped up Ashley’s reading, something about soul connections and living happily ever after.Naturally.
Now it’s my turn, and I’d just like to get it over with. It’s hot as balls in here, and all I really want is funnel cake. I already know where this is going: I’m the missing piece. The key to her future. Meant to be. Blah blah blah.
Normally, I’m hopelessly optimistic. I believe in love at first sight and all that. But this whole card reading and talk of fate? It’s a step too far, even for me.
I wonder if the producers fed Esmerelda a script or just let her wing it. Either way, this isn’t making a believer out of me.
“What’s your name, dear?” She turns toward me.
“I’d rather not say,” I reply, folding my arms across my chest. No way I’m giving her anything to work with.
She lets out a deep, throaty laugh and shares a conspiratorial look with Ashley. “Ah, a skeptic.”
Ashley squeezes my hand, threading her fingers through mine like she’s trying to soothe me. I appreciate the gesture, even though it’s not needed.
“Let’s try the tarot cards.” Esmerelda reaches for the deck. “You strike me as someone who needs a little control.”
Lucky guess.
She fans the deck out dramatically between us, the cards worn and slightly warped, like they’ve been through a few too many beachside predictions.
“Go ahead. Pick three.”
Ashley gives me an encouraging smile like this is all totally normal. I sigh and choose three cards at random. Because sure. Why not.
Esmerelda flips the first one.
