Page 8 of Guys Can't Write Romance
Daisy groaned, sinking back into the cushions. “I can’t decide if you’re the worst or the actual worst.”
“I’m the best,” Chloe quipped breezily, taking a sip. “So. Are you going to survive collaborating with this Chad guy, or do I need to do some advanced roommate prep and, like, baby-proof the apartment first?”
“Chad?” Ava said, her voice far drier than the wine she slowly swirled in her own glass. “You’ve mentioned him quite a lot lately, Daisy, and it’s starting to feel like somebody’s spending too much time thinking about him.”
In stark contrast to Chloe’s artsy Bohemian energy, Ava Anderson was a strictly by-the-book attorney in the mergers and acquisitions department at a large Century City law firm.
“By ‘somebody,’ she means you, roomie,” Chloe said.
“Oh, come on,” Daisy grumbled. “The only reason I mention him is because I’m hoping God will make his surfboard sink. This publishing deal could mean everything, and I have topartner with a guy who thinks romance is a drunk cheerleader kissing a tree monster.”
“Honey, no offense, but romance writing is still a hobby, right?” Ava leaned forward, setting her glass on the table. “You’re not planning on turning this into an actual career? You’ve got Ethan now, and teaching, and—“
“Ava,” Chloe interrupted sharply, mischief sparkling in her eyes, “are you trying to gaslight her into giving up on her dreams? I didn’t know we invited a motivational speaker to wine night.”
“It’s not giving up,” Ava said smoothly, though her words carried that same sharp lawyer’s edge that made Daisy brace for impact. “It’s being realistic. Ethan could make partner at his firm soon, so wouldn’t your time be better spent focusing on your future together?”
Chloe looked at Daisy. “For the record, I’m the good angel on one shoulder, and Ava’s the evil one on the other.”
Daisy sighed and set her glass on the table. “It’s just one contest, Ava,” she said softly.
Chloe opened her mouth, probably to launch another round of sass, but thought better of it and instead reached over and lightly pat Daisy’s arm. “Hey, it’s a good hobby, roomie. I mean, you’re betting your writing career on a monosyllabic male lead and an obnoxious frat boy writing partner. What could possibly go wrong?”
“I thought you were supposed to be the good angel,” said Daisy.
“I am,” said Chloe. “They just forgot to install my filter.”
“I noticed.”
“So, let’s get to the good part,” Chloe said, adjusting herself on the couch with a new surge of energy. “Is he cute?”
Daisy nearly spat up her wine. “Chad?”
“Yup. Inquiring minds want to know. And so do snoopy roommates.”
“He looks like the devil in a baseball cap and sports jersey.”
“Sounds cute.”
“Also, add poor hygiene and table manners.”
“Sign me up. What’s his last name?”
“McKenzie. Why?”
“Because I’m gonna stalk him on social media and see what he really looks like.”
Daisy sighed. “Okay, maybe he’s cute, if you’re into the whole jock, slash frat boy, slash homeless beach bum thing.”
“Which Daisy obviously isn’t,” said Ava.
“Obviously,” Chloe said sarcastically, casting Daisy a sideways glance.
At that moment, a knock came at the door, and Daisy sighed with relief. Maybe God didn’t hate her after all.
“Is that rich banker boyfriend?” Chloe cooed, her face once again breaking into a mischievous grin.
“Ethan is an investment banker,” Ava reminded Chloe. “Not a retail banker.”
