Page 16 of The True Love Experiment

“Oh,” Natalia says with quiet thrill. “Oh, Fizzy Chen, you are my goddamnhero.”

“Mom. Language.”

I frown down at my phone. “Himbo? Is that a typo?”

Nat doubles over, absolutely howling in laughter.

“And it’s going to take forever to get clarification. I’m supposed to go through her ag—” I break off when I reach the end of the scanned PDF and spot a handwritten note from Felicity near the bottom:

Text me if you have questions. Good luck! I suspect you’ll need it.

eightFIZZY

Honestly,” Jess says across the table from me at Twiggs, “if I was this nose-deep into something on my phone, you’d tell me to share the porn or put it away.”

In ye olden times, it was our routine to meet up at Twiggs coffee shop a few days a week to work. I would write like a madwoman and Jess would do numbersy things. We were (usually) very productive. These days our work sessions are more ceremonial: Jess is taking the summer off, and I’d be more likely to grow a third ear than write a compelling kissing scene. But even though the vibe is more casual than business, Jess’s words are my cue to slide my device into my purse and return to bestie time. Sadly, even if Oscar Isaac were standing tableside naked, I’m not sure I could look up from this text exchange. It’s like watching Connor Prince III’s slow spiral into insanity.

Darcy?he texts.I don’t even know what that means.

I smother a laugh with a hand, typing,Think taciturn.

“Felicity.”

Shaking my head, I tell Jess, “I don’t think you want to know what I’m doing.” My phone vibrates again.

“Phone sex?”

“Better.”

What’s a hot nerd?

Do you really need me to explain that one to you?

Fine. Silver fox?

Daddy kink.

Vampire?

A laugh rips out of me and a few of the other regulars toss a dirty look my way. I’d forgotten that gem. But this time I’ve come so close to spraying a mouthful of coffee across the table at Jess that she finally tries to reach for my phone and I have to dodge her grasping fingers to finish typing my reply.

Be creative.

Gingerly, I put my phone down. “Hello, friend.”

“Are we not even pretending to work today?”

I look at the chair to my right where I set all my things when I came in a half hour ago. I haven’t even bothered to unpack my laptop. No wonder I can’t get anything done. Grinning at her, I say, “I promise this is work related.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jess knows I’ve been avoiding social media and work emails like the plague, so she’s understandably skeptical. I elaborate: “My terms for the show landed in Hot Brit’s inbox this afternoon, and he’s got some questions.”

Jess frowns. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do? Why am I immediately the bad guy?”

“Let’s see,” Jess says, cupping her hands around her flat white and leaning closer. “There was the time you talked me into going to the nude beach for your birthday before realizing we were walking around naked on private property.”

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