Page 35 of Ten Rules for Faking It
Her friend held up one hand. “Stop. I get it. Jesus, your brain is like an overpacked freeway in the middle of rush hour.” Her tone was soft and so… accepting, Everly’s eyes watered. “Sweetie, you’ve got this. Get out of your own brain. Breathe.”
“I have to go.” She couldn’t talk about it anymore.
“You’ve got this. The Facebook post looked great and has hundreds of comments. You heard his on-air interview. He’s funny and sounds sweet. The whole city is rooting for you.”
No pressure.After Everly chose two guys—well, she’d actually chosen them all—they’d decided to interview each man and play clips as part of their promos. They’d also gone with Facebook posts that allowed more interaction than a blog. Everly was keeping notes in her rule book just because sometimes her anxiety ramped so high she forgot things.
“Hopefully, I won’t let them down.”
“Okay. You know what?” Stacey said, her tone rising.
“What?” A stitch tugged at Everly’s side. Did Stacey think she should change? Maybe gray would be better. Maybe…
“I’m adding a new life rule. Not for your list but just so I don’t have to kick your ass. Believe in yourself. I mean it. You have faith in everyone else. Have some faith in my best friend.”
Surprise, and a bit of amusement, pulled a smile from Everly. “That’s like a teacher tone you’ve got going on there.”
Stacey nodded. “I didn’t like it, so don’t make me use it again.”
They were both smiling when Everly hung up the phone.Believe in yourself.Interesting concept.There are 457 applicants to date you. Maybe you should have a little faith.
It wasn’t really a world full of strangers she was worried about; it was her job and Stacey’s. This contest had already started bringing more money into the station. More companies were willing to pay premium prices for the advertising spots on their show than even a week ago.
She’d just gotten in her car when her phone rang again. She pressed Accept through the steering wheel so she could get going andnotbe late.He could be late.
“Hello.” She swung out into the post-rush-hour traffic.
“Hey. It’s Chris.”
Her body relaxed. “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Of course. Just wanted to check on you.”
She stopped at the light at the end of her street. “I’ve been on a date before. I’m good.”What he doesn’t know…
The silence made her think maybe she’d lost the call. She turned right and headed toward the restaurant she’d picked out.
“You don’t have to pretend this isn’t hard for you. I just wanted to tell you that no matter how it turns out, I admire you.”
The words warmed her in an unexpected way. She tended to err on the realist side of things as opposed to being warm and fuzzy. But something about the soft cadence of his voice and the fact that he’d called her on her false bravado boosted her confidence. She thought of making a joke about the admiration piece, but she knew it was because of her nerves, and it felt nice to have someone—other than Stacey—acknowledge that they were real, that even if she was overreacting, she was allowed to feel how she felt.
“Thank you.”
“Talk later?”
She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Sure.”
When she hung up, she realized she was now looking forward to the evening. Or at least the end of it.
Owen Baston was waiting for her by the hostess station. His leather jacket and slightly too-long hair looked less intimidating in person, but butterflies still unfurled in her gut. His eyes caught hers immediately, giving her no time to prepare or take a moment to get her breathing under control. His brownish-red hair was messily styled. Or maybe he woke up that way. He didn’t look like he cared about how his hair looked. His eyes crinkled at the corners when the smile moved all the way up his slightly stubbled cheeks. He wore a black sweater under the leather bomber with dark jeans. Some of those butterflies batted their lashes. This man could be a poster model for their contest.Want to find the one? Find it right here on 96.2 SUN.
Everly pressed her fingernails into her palm, acknowledging the increase of her pulse and waiting for those other telltale signs: quivering heart, somersaulting belly, that quick rush of adrenaline. Maybe this was why she had so little luck in love—the feelings of panic and attraction were incredibly similar. How was she supposed to know the difference?
“Everly?” Even his voice was nice.
What was wrong with her?You’re guarded. Just breathe. Or at least talk. Try talking and breathing.“Yes. Owen.” She didn’t make it a question.
He leaned in, one hand on her shoulder. Everly didn’t know if he was going to hug her or kiss her cheek or squeeze her arm. Like she’d spiked her water with Red Bull, she tried to accommodate all three: stepping into him, lifting her arm a bit, and turning her head, which she then smacked into his chin.
