Page 28 of Cinnamon Roll Set Up

I honestly can’t tell if this is a joke or a legitimate plea for more tantalizing gossip.

“Georgia said you two met at yoga class.” I can only hear about so much infidelity before I break. “Do you do yoga often?”

She seems unfazed by the subject change, so that’s good. Or bad, since I’m supposed to find a way to tank this date.

“I go at least once a week. Anjelica Desmond says it’s the best exercise for longevity and heart health. Do you follow her lifestyle vlog?”

Conflict, Miles.Just be honest and tell her you would never take life advice from an actress-turned-influencerwith zero health or psychological training, and questionable motivations and morals. Easy.

“I don’t really keep up with celebrities.”

So close.

Kara purses her lips and reaches into her handbag. Wait. Was that it? Is she done with our date? All I needed to do was admit I’m not interested in the daily lives of people I don’t know and will never meet? I could have started with that and saved my ears some truly traumatizing information.

She pulls out her phone and calls something up, turning it around to me. “This is where I get all my news.”

She scrolls through a neon green site filled with dozens of links to celebrity sightings, fashion statements, and relationship statuses. It’s a dizzying array of intrusive articles and baseless rumors, covered in photos of people caught off guard and at their worst.

And Georgia wonders why I don’t want people to know I wrote the Quantum Station series. I’m not egotistical enough to think actual paparazzi would care about me, but small towns can make anyone’s life harder than it needs to be.

In Magnolia Ridge, this would probably look like all the ladies in Hair and Now discussing my personal life in excruciating detail, but that would be more than enough for me.

Kara holds her hand out. “Give me your phone, and I’ll put the app on it for you. You’ll never miss a thing!”

I lean deeper into the plush booth, protecting my phone that’s safe in the back pocket of my jeans. “Thanks, but I don’t need the app.”

My phone’s lock screen is a picture of Georgia and me the day we painted Dogeared. We’re tired and sweaty but proud of our work and grinning like happy lunatics. As much as I would like to start a little conflict, showing Karathatcould get messy.

She opens and closes her fingers. “Come on. It’s fun.”

“I don’t have enough memory for a new app.” Fudging the truth a little, but who knows how big those files are?

“What’s clogging up your phone?”

“Duolingo. I’m learning Klingon.”

She laughs. “You’re funny.”

I wasn’t trying to be. It’s an interesting exercise that helps me create alien languages in my own books.

The waiter comes to clear our table, and I take care of the bill. Kara just smiles at me while I scramble for something to say that will wrap this date up with a period instead of an ellipsis.

“I’m really glad Georgia set this up,” she says. “I haven’t been out since I broke up with Billy. If not for you, I probably would have just sat at home tonight watching cringey celebrity videos.”

“How are those different from regular celebrity videos?”

She laughs again. “You know, like when they sing something really emotional, and they’ve just got no voice.”

“Oh. Or when they create separate social media accounts for their pets.”

Her laughter dries up. “You think that’s cringe?”

“Kind of. Documenting their pets’ daily lives as though they need their animals to be famous too? That counts, doesn’t it?”

Kara’s mouth flattens into a hard line. “Did Georgia tell you about Mr. Pickles?”

Mr. Pickles?I’ve lost the plot here. If he’s a celebrity, I’ve never heard of him, but that’s not saying much. “I don’t know who that is.”

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