Page 20 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“We’re meant to be together!” she exclaims. “None of the others even follow hockey. It’s fate!”
“Oh.” I blink at her.
She’s pretty. They’re all pretty.
I wish Troy or Dmitri were here because they would be all over her. She has the curvy figure they love, generous cleavage, narrow waist, generous hips, like a taller Marilyn Monroe.
Sebastian’s no longer beside Ella when I look again, and when I do another sweep of the room.
Maybe hosts aren’t supposed to be in the room the whole night. Maybe he’s doing important host work somewhere else.
That’s probably the case.
Ella flashes me one of her professional smiles that I don’t entirely trust. “I hope you’re enjoying your journey to true love.”
“Where’s Sebastian?”
She frowns. “I can help you if you need anything.”
I inhale, hating that the air is filled with clashing scents of perfumes and gourmet snacks and an alcohol aroma. Despite the high ceilings, the room feels claustrophobic. The thick velvet drapes have been drawn shut, probably so no untelegenic passers-by ruin any good shots with curious glances.
“Everything is fine,” I say.
“Any favorites?” Ella asks.
“Um...” I dart my glance toward the women in their slinky gowns, a flurry of puffy hair and blue, red, green, silver and gold.
“It’s okay. You can tell me. You’ll need to give me the names of the women you want to spend more time with and keep on the show before the floral crown ceremony starts.”
“Sebastian already explained.”
I’ve also seen every season ofSeeking Mr. Right,but I don’t tell her that.
I’ve watched Sebastian so much, and he holds me with disdain.
This wasn’t what I imagined. Not at all.
I didn’t plan on going on the show, but I didn’t think it would be quite like this.
It’s all fine, I remind myself, even if strangling Troy and Noah has suddenly become appealing.
“Hi hockey guy.” Flora slides up to me, tottering in red-backed heels, her thigh gap visible in her short dress, the only thing resembling Christmas the green color.
“Hi dentist girl.” I grin at her, and the cameras move closer, eager to catch everything we say. Flora was a cheerleader, and she has the matching peppy attitude, and has made it her life goal to give even non cheerleaders the shiny smile.
I spot Sebastian.
“Sorry... I have to, um, do something,” I say, still looking at him.
Flora’s red-slathered lips, the shade as deep and crimson as much of the Christmas decor, form an O. “Of course.”
“Sorry.” I head toward Sebastian, conscious of Flora’s stare behind me.
I slither up to him, and any regret I have at leaving Flora vanishes when I’m in his presence again.
“Hello.” I smile at him.
His eyes widen, and maybe I’ve actually made this awkward. Maybe he doesn’t want me to talk. My heartbeat pounds, the rate quicker, as if some enthusiastic drummer has taken charge of it, playing rock when I’m accustomed to mellow lounge music.
