Page 41 of Knot Just for Show

“It doesn’t bother me—that it will be your first heat,” I say without thinking about how decisive those words are.It will be…all but a guarantee.

“Really? I guess I really have to check myself when making assumptions about you… I would have thought that you wouldn’t have wanted to waste your time with someone so inexperienced,” she admits sheepishly.

This one is a double-edged blade. I’m cut first by the wound to my pride—that she had sniffed out my superficial nature to some degree, but my shame cuts deeper. That Ursula is so ready to fall on her own sword about her largely correct snap judgements about me.

For a fraction of a second, I consider how badly I’m leading Ursula on. Unlike Brittney and, to a lesser extent, Roxy—women who seem to know exactly what they’re getting into with a professional fuckboy like me; Ursula seems to think there’s somethingmoreto me—that there might be a future between the man that I’m making her think that I am and her ideal pack.

Then reality, with its cold cynicism, pipes back up. This is a reality dating show. The most ‘real’ part of it is the money I can stand to make if I play my cards right and lay the groundwork for the Teddy Wong ‘brand’ or whatever the fuck it is Len is always talking about. This isn’t real life, it’s just for show.

The rent raise on the studio/dojo and its dingy apartment, my childhood home? That’s real life. My career having the chance to be more than a few limited run spots and barely credited stunt work? That’s not bullshit. So, I’ll continue to play for my supper.

“So, you still wanna exchange scent cards with this meat head?” I purr mischievously.

“Yeah, I do,” Ursula answers right away, adding on a laugh, “If you end up not gagging on it. I’m unbelievably curious about how you and the other guys are gonna get along.”

“Honestly, I’m actually really ready for some time withthe boys,” I admit, a little surprised by the truth in my words.

“Well, depending on how many matches you end up with—you’ll have plenty of dudes to hang with,” she floats the statement casually, but I didn’t miss her coy fishing there.

“Mmmhmm. I’ll get to see who sucks the worst at Ovelook. I’m not biting into a pack if one of my brothers is a plebAkumamain.” I slither out of a real answer with video game talk, typically impenetrable for the ladies.

“Spoken by someone who can’t fuckin’ snipe, no doubt,” Ursula laughs coldly.

What? A chick who doesn’t hate video games. I know they exist—but aren’t they typically wife’d up like—ASAP? The mysteries with this Ursula persist.

“Yeah? What are you aClemencymain? You’re practically screaming ‘healer angel lady’ right now,” I scoff. Of course—she’s gotta just play the healer chick.

“Putrid Possum,” Ursula sneers haughtily.

The big steampunk mad max guy with a unicycle instead of legs!? Is she for real?

“SometimesYorrick, if I’m feeling nasty.”

The cyborg polar bear!? Ok, shit maybe I’m the one who’s been judging my date incorrectly this whole time.

“Ok, alright Ursula—I see you,” I laugh, truly at ease and enjoying myself for the first time during any of my dates.

“I’m really looking forward to tonight, Teddy,” she gushes happily, a pang of guilt taking the shine off of the moment.

“Me too,” I agree, confusion rolling in like a thick fog—so that I can no longer tell how disingenuous my eager words are or aren’t.

Chapter Fourteen

Ursula

Ihad walked into my date with Teddy with more than 50% certainty that it would be the last conversation we had as part of this experience, but I am forced once more to enjoy a slice of humble pie. As it so happens, I will be exchanging scent cards with Teddy tonight.

My final and most unexpected date of the day is Anton. We didn’t talk about much on our first date, and I hadn’t asked for a second. I was so surprised to see him on my schedule this morning that I actually checked with Kimmy before my date with Teddy to confirm that I really was supposed to be scheduled with Anton for my final date of the day.

“Hey Ursula,” he greets me as soon as I open the door to the bubble.

“Hey Anton,howareya?” I lob back casually.

“I’m not bad, you good?” he returns my greeting in kind, his thick New York accent reminding me of my bubby.

“Ready for dinner and hopefully an early bedtime after the whole scent card thing,” I answer as casually as possible since it seems incredibly awkward to open with, ‘Hey, I didn’t think we hit it off at all. Why did you ask for a second date?’ or something of the like.

“Yeah, pretty crazy, right? In like—a few hours I’m either going to be meeting my potential pack brothers or I’ll be packing my bags,” Anton laughs, not volunteering any real illumination on the situation.

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