Page 34 of Well, That Was Unexpected

The laugh escapes me before I realize it. “No. No way.”

“Okay. I saved your ass from a barista because you went into a hipster café and ordered a venti caramel macchiato.”

“How about we steer clear of you saving my ass from anything?”

“What’s the fun in that?”

And somehow, despite everything, Sharlot and I are smiling at each other. Our first real smile in a while, maybe the first one I’ve seen on her today. God, is it still today? This day has stretched on a hell of a lot longer than it has any right to.

We chat more easily the rest of the way until we arrive at the main building and one of the receptionists escorts us to themeeting rooms. Outside of the door, I steel myself and glance at Sharlot.

“You ready?”

“Nope.”

“Great.”

Whoever comes up with these interview questions needs to be introduced to the twenty-first century. Seriously, what is up with these super-outdated, sexist questions?

Our first interviewer, whose name I have already forgotten, is fromPlot Twist,a news website aimed at young people. When it was first launched five years ago, it had been more of a fun news site filled with silly quizzes and memes, but it has since grown into a billion-dollar enterprise that releases surprisingly in-depth and well-researched articles. In fact, it won a prestigious journalism award just last year for covering the devastating effects of climate change on the Indonesian rain forests.

This article that they’re doing of us, however, is not that.

As soon as the reporter is done asking me questions about OneLiner, he immediately says, “So, tell me, George, what caught your eye about Sharlot?”

I glance at Sharlot and feel my cheeks warming up. “Uh.” God, I am unprepared for this. How the hell did that happen? I grew up doing these interviews. The first rule of the Tanuwijaya clan, hammered into us from when we were young enough to form sentences, is “Never be caught unprepared.” And I’vealways been so good at them. Okay, well, not good. But definitely not terrible. Unlike my cousin Melodi, for example, Eighth Aunt didn’t have to put in extra effort to have me sent off to a boarding school in Scotland just to escape the public eye. I have a whole list of vetted and prepared answers for all the interview questions that have been lobbed my way. But now, I belatedly realize that those answers were dependent on my not seeing anyone. They’re about deflecting personal questions and redirecting to whatever new venture the company is currently invested in.

A million answers crowd into my head and I reject them all.She’s pretty—too shallow.She’s smart—too generic.She’s kind—yawn.

“She’s, um, she’s nice.” Wow. Way to go, George. I cringe inwardly to think of Eighth Aunt’s and Eleanor’s reactions when this interview is released. She’snice? They’re going to be like, “Are you trying to kill all excitement about the app? Because that’s what you’re doing, George Clooney.”

Apparently, the interviewer thinks so too, because he presses a bit harder. “Nice?” he asks with a laugh. “You must be inundated with nice girls all the time! You’ve been famous for refusing to be involved with anyone, and now that we’ve received news about the shy, reclusive Prince George finally having a girlfriend, everyone is dying to know more about her.”

“Um…er…” Oh god. I have never choked like this, and especially not in the presence of a reporter. But as soon as I think, I’m choking, it gets even worse. My entire family flashes before my eyes, their faces frowning with disappointment. Come on, George, just think of something to say. Anything!

Sharlot glances at me, frowning at my failure to come up with a coherent sentence, and I’m so embarrassed I could just burst into flames now. I’m supposed to be the seasoned pro at interviews, and here I am, crashing and burning in the most idiotic fashion. Her forehead clears when she sees my panicked expression. She knows. She knows I’m choking.

She turns back to the reporter and says, “Excuse me, Asep, but since you’re dying to know about me, shouldn’t you be asking me these questions?”

I can practically feel my jaw landing on the floor. Sharlot—soft-spoken, straight-laced Sharlot whose favorite hobby is stewing bones into broths—is kind of…badass? And she remembered the reporter’s name!

Asep looks at Sharlot with some surprise and then laughs. “Oh, I’m sorry. Sure.” He doesn’t even bother turning his body toward her or moving his phone, which is recording the interview, closer to her. It’s clear he’s not at all interested in what she has to say. She’s merely the object of my affection, emphasis on “object.” I never ever abuse my position of privilege, but fleetingly I indulge in the thought of getting this jackass fired.

“Okay, well.” Sharlot straightens up and flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’m pretty amazing, so I’m not surprised that George here went for me.”

I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“I won the sixth-grade statewide spelling bee contest. That’s the state of California, by the way. It’s huge. The word wasderailleur.Do you know how to spellderailleur?”

Asep cocks his head.“D-e-r-a-i-l-u-r-e.”

Sharlot nods with a smirk. “Yeah, that was the answer Cecilia MacKenzie gave too. The wrong one.”

Asep doesn’t frown, exactly, but he definitely looks less smug than he did moments ago. He turns to me and says, “So, you were attracted to Sharlot because she’s a good speller?”

I don’t hesitate. “Yep, that’s exactly why.” I glance at Sharlot and the knot in my chest releases. I can breathe again.

The rest of the interview, as well as the following interviews we have, go smoothly. Well, maybesmoothlyisn’t quite the right word for them, but I no longer choke for answers. In fact, Sharlot and I have a lot of fun with all the ridiculous questions we’re asked. She tells one reporter that it was the way I blew my nose that drew her to me, and I tell them it was the way she ate a burger that attracted me to her.

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