Page 9 of The Romance Rivalry

“I, on the other hand, have got some really important plans and simply just cannot get out of them, so you two go along without me,” Jeannette says. Again, subtlety: not her forte.

I give an awkward smile to Derek on one side and shoot daggers from my eyes at Jeannette on the other, but she’s busy frantically typing on her phone. Then mine buzzes with a new notification. I look down at the text.

Jeannette:He’s cute! And totally interested! OMG!

I feel the weight of Derek’s gaze on me to my right. I feel the buzz of Jeannette’s thumbs flying over her phone texting me to my left. I feel the pounding of my heart inside me, beating out the rhythmfirst date, first datedown my center.

I take a deep breath.

It’s your time to be the main character, Irene. Let’s do this.

I turn back to Derek.

He’s cute, but something’s missing. There isn’t an immediate, all-consuming attraction to him. No butterflies. No va-va-va-voom. It could be slow-burn over instalove, I guess. I’m interested to see how the conversation over coffee goes and if I find myself more drawn to him afterward.

I turn around as the speaker at the front asks for everyone’s attention. My eyes are drawn once again to the guy in the middle of the room. I catch him just as he turns his head toward the speaker as well. Was he looking back at me? I wish I could get just one look at his face.

But I give up and place my focus on freshman orientation—where to park my bike if I have one, how to access campus security in case of emergency, and best tips on how to succeed in college.

I sneak a quick peek at Derek. He’s taking notes like his life depends on it. I should probably write some stuff down, too, in case I miss some important information. But my head is filled with thoughts of every small-town romance I’ve read and how this could play out.

I didn’t expect this all to happen so fast. It’s only day one. Am I really ready for what’s next if this plan of mine actually works?

Well, I’m about to get coffee with Small-Town Romance Derek, so I better get ready.

“So, what do you say?” Derek asks me.

I’m caught mid-sip and his question has me coughing up the coffee that has gone down the wrong pipe. He pats me on the back a few times.

“I’m sorry, you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend so that you can win back your ex?” I ask.

He nods earnestly. “You look a lot like her.” He holds out his phone and shows me his lock screen. An adorable blond girl with bangs who I look nothing like smiles up at me. “I’m certain she just has to see me with a pretty girl on my arm to realize she made a terrible mistake breaking up with me. She doesn’t want freedom to try new things in college. We were supposed to come to Brighton together. How can I be here on my own? I need her to realize her mistake.” His voice is desperate, and with desperation comes volume. The entire coffee shop has heard his plea and sits waiting for my response.

And considering how small this campus is, I’m sure this will be posted in some online student chat portal, passed along in whispers between classes, and featured as headline news in the school paper by end of week. I probably share a class with her, too.

Great.

This would not have happened at UCLA, guaranteed.

Thing is, I feel Derek’s pain. And fake dating is such anincredible tool for love. Though it’s usually the two people faking it who find themselves surprised at the very real feelings that eventually form between them. Frankly, Derek kinda gives me the ick. And he’s so whipped for his ex, there’s no way that’s happening in this situation.

I wonder what it’s like to be loved that much.

I want to help him. But I have my own plan to find love, and that’s what I need to deal with right now. No time to waste.

“I’m sorry, Derek. But I think it would honestly be best if you just told her straight up how you feel. Let her know how miserable you are without her. Women love a grand gesture. Don’t play games. Your love doesn’t need them,” I say.

“Preach,” someone says at one of the two-tops in the corner.

“Listen to her,” one of the baristas chimes in.

“Go get your girl,” a patron behind a laptop adds.

Derek’s eyes light up. “You’re right, Irene. I just need to tell her how I feel. If she knows how serious I am about our love, surely she’ll want me back.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe take it down just a notch,” I say, pressing my forefinger and thumb together to demonstrate just how much I think he needs to chill. I don’t, however, tell him how his intensity might be the reason his ex wanted space in the first place.

Derek jumps up from his seat and bends down to hug me.“Thank you so much for the advice. I’m so glad I met you at orientation.” And with that, he takes off.

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