Page 42 of Knot Just for Show

“Yeah, I’m not gonna lie—I’m pretty fucking nervous,” I admit, opening up a little bit, in the hopes of spurring Anton into revealing his intentions.

“Why so scared, doll? Haven’t a bunch of guys already told you they’re gonna exchange cards with you?” he snorts dismissively.

“Well, yeah—but there’s no guarantee that we’re going to be compatible. What if the guy who I like the most ends up sending me a card that smells like moldy leftovers and used urinal cake?” I wince a little once the crass words are out of my mouth, but my embarrassment only lasts the brief silence before Anton’s booming laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right!” he guffaws. “You and the other two could end up being some rank skanks.”

I half-laugh, half-groan at ‘rank skanks’. It’s rude, and more than slightly misogynistic, but I can’t deny the charm in the uncouth rhyme.

“So how many guys are you exchanging with?” he transitions casually to the question, as if the conversational glide was inevitable.

“I don’t know if I wanna put that out there in the open,” I evade easily. Since I haven’t had any interest in Anton or any designs on exchanging scent cards with him—the stakes are decidedly lower than my previous conversations of the day.

“What if I put mine out in the open?” he dangles the prospect before me. If I had more investment in Anton, this would no doubt be a tantalizing proposition…however, with my interest at less than zero, there’s just no pull.

“I mean, you could do that. It would be your choice, I am in no way asking you to, nor am I agreeing to exchange any information for it,” I cluck cooly. Though I don’t care for my own purposes, I could find out on Roxy’s behalf… though I’m not sure if she’d want to know who she’s in direct romantic competition with.

“Playing hard to get, huh?” There’s an unmistakable little growl in his voice—and I can’t help but react on pure biology. Oh yeah, we might not be able to scent each other yet…but there’s no mistaking the aura behind that growl. Anton has to be pure alpha. Textbook.

“I don’t know about that. Not to be a bitch, but what makes you think that I’m interested at all, Anton?”

“This kind of bullshit,” he laughs easily, continuing on a wistful sigh, “The banter is easy. I can tell that you’re east coast—not just because of your wicked trash accent, but becausejust like me, you’re impatient with all these dozy west-coasters. Forever in some kind of bullshit rush for no reason.”

I laugh and consider what he’s said for a minute. While I may be reading our relationship as having more ‘friendship’ vibes rather than relationship vibes, have I unwittingly stepped into the same trap as I did with Teddy? Assuming that I already know the man because of very superficial judgments I passed on him based on what he does for a living?

At the same time, I acknowledge that my general ease and casual attitude toward Anton is borne of my lack of affection for him. Even with Teddy, there’s some little spark between us that continues to kindle into a larger and larger flame. With Anton—I don’t get that…or have I simply cut myself off from having any feelings for him from the start? Am I only reconsidering him now because I’m developing a case of liking-being-liked? I’m shocked and embarrassed to admit that I’m not entirely sure.

“That’s fair. I guess I was just pretty surprised that you asked for a second date because I had kind of felt like our vibe was more like bros than anything else,” I opt for friendly but honest.

“I can see that. I’m definitely more chill with you than the other dates I enjoyed. Plus, you’re definitely not a gym rat,” he concedes.

I squirm a little at that comment. I know he can’t see what I look like, so it isn’t a dig at my appearance—rather a commentary on the fact that I haven’t been able to talk shop with him when it comes to workouts and all that comes with it.

“So, where does that leave us?” I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not wanting to outright reject Anton, but not ready to be the one to make the first move.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”

I take a deep breath, prepared to make one of the dumbest decisions that I’ve made during this entire show.

I pace in the small vestibule between the ladies’ lounge and the ‘bubble’ hallway, waiting for Roxy to escape her last date of the evening. The scent cards will be delivered right after dinner, and I need to tell her about Anton before the cards come in and it looks like I’ve been going behind her back with him.

After a few moments that seem to drag forever, Roxy emerges from one of the date bubbles; a fleece blanket draped around her shoulders, her notebook and one of the omnipresent red anodized aluminum stemmed wine glasses balanced in her hands.

“Rox,” I begin, pleading already, making my voice sound more desperate than I want it to.

“Hey Ur-zilla, everything ok?” She adjusts, tucking her notebook under her arm, empty glass still pinched in her fingers—spreading her other arm out like a big fleecy wing to rest across my shoulders.

“I need to tell you something,” I blurt, already assuming the worst—catastrophizing my imminent confession, my lower lip already trembling.

Roxy only pulls me gently against her.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to start the waterworks.”

“I didn’t tell you this morning that my last date today was a rando date with Anton. I even asked Kimmy if it was a scheduling error because I just didn’t think that he had anyinterest in me at all,” I continue yammering a mile a minute, refusing to let Roxy get a word in edgewise.

“We ended up having a date, and he wanted to exchange scent cards even though I didn’t even think that he was going to remember my name so I ended up saying yes—but I swear I didn’t have any idea that he was going to do that and if I thought there was even the remote possibility that it was going to go down like that then I would have told you this morning—I don’t want you to think that I would ever go behind your back because you’re awesome and if you don’t want me to exchange cards with him I—” but Roxy silences me—her hand moving from my shoulder to cup solidly over my mouth.

“Jesus fuck Ursula!” she barks a laugh “I was hoping you’d take a breath or something but you just kept yapping!” she wheezes, slowing to a stop.

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