Page 16 of Heart to Heart
“Was it necessary to add in the part about the STD testing?” I took a sip of my battered Americano. “I don’t even know why I need to take an STD test for a television show, anyway.”
“You do know you’re going on a dating show, right?”
“And?”
Kiki stared at me, looking just as confused as I must have appeared. “I would have thought that you and Guy covered this a while back.” Clearing her throat, she sat up straight on her stool, raising one hand, the tip of her thumb and index finger forming a circle while holding the index finger of her other hand out so that it hovered just on the cusp of penetrating the circle formed by her fingers. “You see, when two people love each other very much—or can tolerate each other for roughly seven and a half minutes—they…”
“I know how sex works, Kiki.”
“Okay, good. Then you understand why everyone needs to take an STD test.”
“No, I really don’t since I have no intention of sleeping with Tristan Tate. I mean, Guy is the only man I’ve ever slept with. I’m not just going to jump into bed with a man I just met.”
Despite how many nights I may have envisioned a scenario with a shirtless Tristan hovering over me, his hands exploring every inch of my…Jesus, Avery, take a cold shower.
Kiki nodded in pity. “First of all, I’m sorry. That must be terrible for you to have only had Guy as a sexual partner.” She shuddered as though that were the only true visceral reaction one could have to the thought of Guy in any kind of sexual manner. “Next, you don’t have to sleep with Tristan Tate.Although, if you plan to make it to the top two, you will have the option to go on an overnight date with him. In which case, you will be alone with him all night. Hence, the termovernight date. But whether you choose to play Parcheesi or hide the salami is entirely up to you.”
My stomach turned as though I’d taken a swig of curdled milk. Having sat through many an episode ofHeart to Heart, glassy-eyed, with Kiki on the couch next to me, I knew all about the overnight dates, their significance on the show, and the controversy they often caused. Though I could never entirely understand how a person, if they were sincerely looking for a committed relationship and on the cusp of getting engaged, could sleep with multiple different people in such a short span of time. Whatever made for good TV, I suppose.
I wasn’t going to be one of those women, caught off-guard by thinking they were special, only to discover they were one of many conquests. The beauty of Guy dumping me for an Austen heroine erased any notion I’d had that I may be anything other than ordinary. An ordinary girl just trying to do whatever she could to help her family. No matter how many bedroom-wall-poster-worthy, smoldering glances Tristan may throw my way, I couldn't lose focus on that.
“When are you leaving?” Kiki had reclaimed her place behind the counter when a customer entered the café, and Kevin had given her the stink eye—it was either that or it had started twitching again while working with Kiki.
“Two weeks,” I replied, allowing that to sink in for the first time since the call. Two weeks would fly by, leaving me with little time to prepare, little time to let the firm know I’d be taking a leave of absence, and little time to explain to my parents why their daughter had thrown her hat into the ring for a chance to be on a reality dating show. Especially when she, in fact,despised reality dating shows. Cue internal panic in three…two…one.
“Two weeks!” Kiki almost dropped the plate she was holding, her eyes mirroring the anxiety that was coursing through my body. “Well shit, that’s not a lot of time. Guess we’d better get to cracking on your wardrobe and going away party.”
“I don’t want either of those things.”
“Hey, Kevin,” Kiki called out to the beleaguered man wiping down tables I knew were in Kiki’s section, “I need to take tomorrow off to make Avery over à la every rom-com from the ‘80s and ‘90s, montage and all.”
“That’s okay, Kevin,” I interceded. “There will be no makeover montages to the musical stylings of Roy Orbison. In fact, you can book Kiki a double shift tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry,” he responded, and I truly felt he meant it, with the pitying look he flashed me, “but she’s not on the schedule tomorrow. She’d know that if she ever bothered to look at it.”
“I show up, don’t I?” Kiki rolled her eyes at him before turning all her erratic squirrel-in-traffic energy back to me. “Be prepared to fire upShe’s All Thattonight while we plan your wardrobe.”
“Plan for what? Don’t they dress the contestants for the show?”
“Absolutely not,” she laughed. “Those gowns? One hundred percent owned by the contestants. Your hair and make-up—all your responsibility.”
“Kiki, I can’t afford all that. Also, how do we even know I’m going to last longer than the first night? I’ll be throwing money out the window.”
“Pshh,” she scoffed with a flick of her wrist. “We’ll figure it out.”
The last time I figured anything out with Kiki, we’d ended up lost, walking barefoot in a cornfield after losing our shoes in ahand of poker and later running out of gas on a deserted country road with dick in the way of reception. That didn’t seem so bad compared to what I was up against now, battered feet and all.
“What?” Kiki threw her hands up. “We will. You stress too much, Ave. It’s not good for you. Besides, there are stores that specifically sell used prom and bridesmaid’s dresses for cheap, not to mention the number of people I see trying to unload them all the time on Facebook. Heck, someone may even donate to you, knowing you’re going on the show. We’ve got this.”
She placed her hand on my forearm, and I smiled, a tight smile that was a cross between gratitude and skepticism. There was a knot in my stomach, a strong desire to withdraw, to not put myself through this. And the more I thought about it, the more the knot began to tighten like a noose around my neck.
CHAPTER 8
TRISTAN
AFTER DARK WITH JESSE JERMAINE
Jesse Jermaine
