Page 37 of Falling Off Script

This was a crash course in charm, not couple’s therapy.

When did they stop trying to be heartbreakers and start manifesting soulmates?

I set the coffee down and pace. Arms crossed. Trying to look casual. Cool. Unbothered.

Spoiler: I’m none of those things.

“Okay,” I say. “So, recap. We’ve got a man who wants to ask questions without seeming needy, a man who’s surprisingly chill with emotional pacing, and someone wondering if meeting the friends is a commitment milestone.”

I make a slow circle around the whiteboard. Gesture vaguely like I’m preparing to draw a diagram. I’m not.

“What next? You're gonna ask me if texting her good morning every day is love-bombing or just attentive?”

No one laughs.

Somenod.

“Oh my god,” I mutter. “You people are serious.”

I turn back to them. “Are you listening to yourselves? This is a bootcamp, not a premarital counseling session.”

They wait.

Flannel guy lifts his shoulders. “You said connection is the endgame.”

Wait, they listened to that part?

“Right, sure,” I say. “But there’ssequencing. You don’t start a movie with the post-credits scene.”

Skinny jeans guy tilts his head. “But what if that’s what she wants?”

Tattoo guy leans forward. “Yeah. What if she’s already there, emotionally?”

I stare at them. For a full beat, I have nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I pivot toward the coffee, like caffeine can fix this.

That throwaway line about connection I added in Week 2 to sound less like a creep and more like a socially acceptable human?

I feel myself spiraling.

I need a reset.

“Be right back,” I say. “Refill.”

I duck into the hallway, head for the bathroom, and lock the door like I’m evading a lie detector test.

The mirror stares back. I stare harder.

“What am I doing,” I mutter. “What the hell am I supposed to say in there—‘Let’s unpack your attachment wounds and draft your wedding vows in Excel’?”

I run my hands over my face. It doesn’t help.

I still schedule my feelings like dentist appointments.

Preferably ones I miss.

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