Page 61 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“My money is on Owen. It doesn’t sound like these two latest ones were worth her time.”
Stacey used her finger to wipe a smudge outside one of the empty rectangles. “Brad sounded okay. They might not be Everly’s type, but I have a very good feeling about next week’s candidates. Did you see Daniel’s profile picture? Though I guess looks aren’t everything since Andy the model thought he could bring all his buddies for free food.”
Everly stepped into the room, unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth. “You’re betting on my dating life?”
Everyone swiveled in an almost comical synchronization. Elijah, who produced for Christine, who sat beside him, took a sudden interest in his notepad. Kitty bit her lip, her deer-in-the-headlights gaze moving to Stacey.
“No. Of course not. We’re just organizing the… choices,” Stacey said, lowering the pointer.
Everly pointed a finger at Kitty. “She just said her money was on Owen.”
Christine looked up. “He was a cutie.” She rested her chin on the heel of her hand.
She started to deny it, but at this point, if she had to choose, Owen was the front-runner.
Kitty stood up, straightened her gorgeous, white linen blazer. “We signed our biggest ad yet. Ridgeview Motors just signed a six-week contract for your segment.”
She forced her lips into a smile. This was benefiting everyone. “Excellent,” Everly said. She moved farther into the room, trying to ignore the fact that her love life, such as it was, was written out on the board.
“We really weren’t betting, Ev. But if we’re having conversations around the table, you can bet other workplace employees are, too. All of this is doing exactly what we wanted—generating interest and money for the station. I heard it from a friend of a friend that 102.9 is trying to come up with a kick-ass end-of-summer promotion.”
“It can’t suck all that bad to know so many guys want to go out with you,” Christine said.
Elijah looked up from his doodling. “You’re such a quiet person. Doesn’t this make it easier for you? It’s like central casting doing all the screen tests and just sending you the best possible actors.” As a wannabe movie star who’d opted to produce over full-time auditioning, it made sense that he would see it this way.
If this were a movie and not her real life, maybe it would be a relief.
“That’s a great way to look at it,” Stacey said, walking over to the coffee and pouring a cup. She brought it to Everly.
Accepting the mug, she brought it to her lips and reminded herself that these people were as close to friends as it got. Other than Stacey and Tara, Everly didn’t have many constants in her life. It was time to start letting people in a little further, regardless of where she ended up on her road to the final two.Now you’re doing it.
Give them something. This is what people do. They sit around and talk about their dating lives, complain about their spousesand pets. This is how people get to know each other. You were just saying to Chris that you needed to let others in more. Get to know them as well. Take a chance.She smiled.Be bold.
“We can put Brad as moving on,” she said, the words thick in her mouth as she gestured to the bracket for week two. Then she gave them a bit more. “Owen really was nice.” She pressed her lips to the rim of the cup like she could hide behind it.
The conversation veered to first kisses and dating disasters the others had experienced. Surprised by how good it felt to hear their stories, she got caught up in listening to everyone else. For a few minutes, anyway.
“Since we’re all here, we could start our air-check meeting a few minutes early?”
Stacey gave her an affectionate smile that did nothing to soothe the unrest she felt. “Always the taskmaster.”
“That’s what he said,” Kitty said with a laugh.
Everly rolled her eyes, but the others laughed. The meeting was fine, but the nerves that took up residence under her skin didn’t fade throughout the workday.
The nerves hovered over her day in and day out, more constant than they usually were. By the time date five rolled around, she was positive it would be easier to endure than the days leading up to it. As she got ready for her dinner with Daniel at the restaurant she’d selected, she told herself this would be just like the last four. She could absolutely do this. Again. Dressed in jeans, a patterned tank top, with a blue cardigan, she sat in her car outside Chows.
He’s probably already in there.She looked at the time on her dashboard: 6:58.Go in. You’re here on time, and you’re going to be late.She forced herself to get out of the car, walk across the parking lot, ignore the tightness in her throat. It wasn’t closing. A couple ahead of her laughed loudly, their heads close together, his hand on her back. They went into the restaurant, and the man held the door open for Everly.
Pulse pumping abnormally loud in her ears, she shook herhead and kept walking past the door. She skirted around to the side of the building, which was basically an alley. When she leaned against the wall, every jagged groove of the brick pressed into her through her sweater. Everly counted in her head, hugging her purse to her chest.
Just breathe. You’re overwhelmed, but you’re okay.Or her throat was literally closing.It’s not. You know it’s not. One, two, three, four, you’re definitely late now.Which only made it worse.
This is your job.But it wasn’t. Her job was sitting in a booth, planning programming, working in a partnership with a person she knew. Someone who knewherin return. This wasn’t her job and it wasn’t her and she couldn’t go in. Everly’s breathing turned choppy like violent seas.
Goddamn it, just breathe. It’s dinner at a restaurant with a good-looking firefighter. Hardly something to freak out over.That didn’t fix her breathing or cool her heated skin.
Just go in. One step at a time. You know how to do this.She pushed off the wall.It’s just dinner.She took a step out of the alley.You’ve eaten here before, and you like it.Everly walked toward the entrance, but at the last second, she veered to the left and practically sprinted to her car. When she slid inside, the interior filled with her sawing breaths. She tossed her purse on the passenger seat and tugged at the sleeves of her cardigan. It was too hot. Yanking it off one arm, she adjusted her body in the seat, pulling while the soft cotton seemed to stick to her heated skin. When it was off, next to her purse in the passenger seat, she felt marginally better.
