Page 38 of The True Love Experiment

“Jess and I have been friends forever. River used to come into our coffee shop every morning and they’d do this wholePride and Prejudiceflirt-but-not-flirt thing. It was entertaining but ultimately exhausting. I forced her to do the DNADuo. I’m telling you, if it wasn’t for me, she’d still be single. I should get a finder’s fee.”

“I wasn’t really paying attention to the technology yet when the company first launched,” he says, “but they had a very high match, right?”

“Diamond—a score of ninety-nine, in fact, still the highest score in company history. The executives actually paid her to get to know him. Honestly, I couldn’t have written a better happily ever after myself.”

I make the mistake of letting my eyes wander down the length ofhis body. He seems strangely fidgety, and when he pulls his sweater up and over his head, folding it on the back of his chair, my brain short-circuits for at least a second.

A new emotion invades my blood: soft fondness. I blink at his chest and the five grinning male faces there beneathWONDERLANDin the branded, swooping font. “You’re wearing a Wonderland T-shirt?”

“Stevie and I got some merch when you and Juno were stuck in that abysmal porta potty line earlier.”

I laugh-whisper, “Merch. You’ve got the lingo.”

He grins at my slack-jawed awe. “We are on a quest, right? A quest for joy? Do I not need to attain certain knowledge?”

For a beat, I’m speechless. I have a tight feeling in my chest, like twine around my lungs, seeing him in this T-shirt. And not just wearing it, but proudly wearing it. I’ve agreed with Jess about how hot it is that River is such a good dad to Juno, but it’s a truth I can’t look at straight on. I celebrate it for her obliquely, on the sidelines. I want a family, of course, but who knows what that will look like for me. Themeet someone+love someone+be together long enough to want to have a kid togethermath isn’t really mathing for me. I assume my role is being the auntie everyone comes to when they need to learn how to do the perfect winged eyeliner, hide a hangover from a parent, or cry about their first broken heart. I think every child needs someone who adores them unconditionally but is not biologically obligated to. Being attracted to a proud dad is doing weird, painful things to my breathing.

It’s only attraction, I remind myself.Don’t make it into a big deal.

“I didn’t realize their merch sizes went up to giant,” I say, pushing my voice out past the cork of emotion in my throat. I make themistake of reaching out to touch the shirt absently, curiosity guiding my movements, and realize how firm his body is underneath. “At least this one doesn’t look like it came from the kids’ department.” Holy bicep. I jerk my fingers away like he’s on fire.

“The sizes are confusing,” he admits.

I take a small step back, willing my skin to cool down. “I bought a shirt in women’s large a while ago thinking I’d have something to sleep in. It fits me like a wetsuit.”

He laughs. “I assumed that’s why this one was available. The woman said it was the last size to sell out. Most of their fan base—” He holds up a hand to stop me from correcting him. “No. Ithoughteveryone would look like Stevie and Juno.” Connor motions for me to follow him to where the girls are standing at the edge of the suite, overlooking the crowd. We see a group of women fully decked out in Wonderland merch below us. The suite to our left has three thirtysomething couples, standing at the ledge like we are, laughing and sipping cocktails. The one to our right has a group of teenage girls and a lone dad scrolling on his phone. And throwing my gaze out farther I see a large group of women of all ages, a group of men in LED necklaces singing along to the preshow playlist, a pair of white-haired older women taking photos in front of the giant screens. “It looks like one of your signings,” Connor says.

“Just a little bigger,” I say, laughing.

“Only for now.” He looks over at me, his eyes dropping only briefly to my mouth. “Once the world sees you, Fizzy, they’re going to fall in love.”

eighteenCONNOR

Stevie has always been an exuberant child, driven by her emotions. She dances around the house, does cartwheels in the aisles at the grocery store, and was so overcome when we brought Baxter home that she held him and cried into his silky puppy fur for a full hour. I’m familiar with her squeals of delight when we get the back car on Big Thunder Mountain, and the nonstop giggles that come from her room during a sleepover. But I have never seen my kid like this.

The show hasn’t even started yet, and Stevie and Juno are already up on their feet, dancing and singing along to music videos with the rest of the audience. Fizzy wasn’t kidding when she said that she had an in. We are in a suite, high enough to see the arena, but still reasonably close to the stage. There is also complimentary food, drinks—booze—and our own private toilet. We may never leave.

And Fizzy… I can’t seem to keep my eyes off her. Logically I know it’s self-sabotage to entertain thoughts about how good she looks or how tempting her neck is with her hair pulled back like that, but my brain doesn’t seem to care.

When she climbed up on my shoulders outside the arena, it was like a pin being pulled from a grenade. I could feel the heat of herthrough her shorts; the strength of her thighs gripping my neck sent a sharp bolt of desire through my body, one I’d rather not experience in front of a few thousand people. I wanted to be alone with her, to run my fingers up the inside of her thighs, feel that heat pressed against my hand. I wanted to drop to my knees and show her with my mouth just how much I had regretted going home alone the other night. Job? Who needs a job?

But of course, we weren’t alone. It only took one glance at Stevie—her eyes locked on Fizzy and shining with absolute awe—for reality to come screeching back.

Thankfully, it’s the erupting screams that break me from my swimming thoughts, as the lights are snuffed out and the arena explodes into a blast of unbelievable sound. It’s nearly overwhelming. I know that sound doesn’t have color, but when I close my eyes, stars pop yellow and red on my lids. It is deafening, a tangible thunder that moves through my chest, rattling the ground beneath me. Stevie and Juno are jumping up and down, joining in a growing chant of the group’s name.

Fizzy pulls me close, her hand clutching my forearm. I see her lips move but can’t possibly hear her in the cacophony as she nods to the girls. When I shake my head, she stretches and I lean in, feeling her lips move against my ear: “I am so happy you’re here to see this.”

“I’d like to put a pedometer on them and see how many calories they burn by the end of this thing.”

“Just wait till it starts.”

She’s so close I wonder how I’ll be able to think about anything else, but when the first note rings through the dark, it easily yanks my attention away. I have never voluntarily listened to a Wonderlandsong, but it is impossible to be in the middle of all this and not be affected by the collective anticipation around us. This is the joy that Fizzy talked about. The shared adrenaline, everyone here for the same thing. Even the dads near us have decided to stand, some with arms folded across their chests as they observe, others shifting from foot to foot to get a better view, curious to see what all the fuss is about.

Fireworks erupt from the stage and the group emerges to a thunderous reaction. When the first song starts, Fizzy, Juno, and Stevie know every word. I’m surprised to realize I know most of them, too. The girls lose themselves to the music and the euphoria of the show. Fizzy dances where she stands, entirely unselfconscious. Somehow Stevie knows every beat of the show before it happens. She knows the set list, when the members will venture out into the audience, and at exactly what point they’ll pass right in front of us. I’m so caught up in it that when she attempts to hold up her small sign, I’m ready to take over and hold it up higher.

During the final intermission, sweaty and surprisingly exhausted, I walk from the balcony and through the suite to use the loo. When I step out again, Fizzy is making herself a drink. We can still see the girls, but the glass walls close us in, dulling the noise from the show.

I join Fizzy at the bar, refill my water bottle, and close my eyes as I take a long, cold drink.

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