Page 6 of Guys Can't Write Romance
“Not a chance.”
“Let’s wager on it.”
She eyed him skeptically. “What’d you have in mind?”
Chad thought about it for a moment. “How about this? When my novel beats yours’ in the contest, you have to come to my P.E. class, dressed as a zombie cheerleader, and announce to the class that horror is the superior genre.”
Daisy scoffed.
“Getting cold feet over there, Fields?” Chad said.
Daisy shook her head. “Nope. Just thinking of what to have you do when I win.”
“Which is…?”
“You have to come to my class, in full Cupid costume, and announce that I’m the better writer.”
“What’s a Cupid costume?”
“You know, a diaper, wings, the works.”
“A diaper?”
“Yup. Getting cold feet, McKenzie?”
“Nope. Just picturing you in a cheerleader skirt.”
“Too bad you’ll never get to see it, diaper boy. So, are we doing this?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Good. Let’s shake on it.”
They reached across the table and shook hands in an exaggerated shake. And then they noticed the faces of the others in the group, all grinning from ear to ear.
“I hope you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, son,” said Bernie.
“Seeing Daisy as a rotting corpse?”
“You’ve got to win first. And frankly, my money’s on Daisy.”
“Hah!” Daisy laughed. “See, even Bernie doesn’t think you can do it.”
“That’ll just make victory even sweeter.”
“You know what,” Mags cut in, “in light of this little wager, I’m pairing up the two of you as writing partners.”
“What?” Chad and Daisy burst out simultaneously.
“You can’t be serious,” said Daisy. “I have to work with it?”
“And I have to work with that?” said Chad.
“Exactly,” said Mags. “And despite this wager, I expect the two of you to help each other.”
“Nope,” said Daisy, with an exaggerated shake of her head. “That’s barbaric, Mags. The Geneva Convention outlawed torture.”
“That’s only in war, dear.”
