Page 58 of The True Love Experiment

I open the door, stepping into my shoes. “Guess we’ll find out.” When her frown intensifies, I add, “Fine. I promise we’ll stay out of the bedroom.”

“As if you need a bedroom,” she says.

I pause with my hand on the knob. “That is a great point. Okay, gotta go!”

“Wrist diameter!” she calls to me as I jog down the stairs.

“I don’t need to walk tomorrow!”

“How’s the writing going, Felicity?”

“This is research!” I call back.

I can practically hear her aggrieved groan as she waves from the front door.

twenty-sevenFIZZY

Connor beats me to my place and is waiting on the porch, one broad shoulder leaning against the column at the top of the steps. He’s changed from the nice dress pants and button-down he had on earlier and is my favorite version of soft Connor: worn shirt, worn jeans, worn sneakers. In the moonlight and with the diffuse cone of light from the porch lamp overhead, he looks like a Hallmark cuddle come to life.

“How are you?” he asks as I approach.

“I’m great.” I reach him and stretch to kiss his cheek before realizing that’s not a thing I should do with my platonic producer bestie. His expression when I pull away is a mixture of amused and concerned.

“Sorry,” I say, and why not be fully honest here: “I was happy to see you and unfortunately did not hit the mental brakes in time.”

His face does a weird blip through a laugh and a grimace and finally settles on blankness. “No problem.” Soft Connor is now stiff as a board. “I just wanted to check in to see how the first week of shooting went for you, and whether you needed anything.”

“Me?” I ask, unlocking my front door. He follows me inside. “I’m fine.”

“On our end, things are looking fantastic,” he says, toeing off his Vans. “You really are a natural on-screen, Fizz. Today we cut all the sections we want from the dates and tonight we finished editing in the backstory intros and the testimonials.”

“So the episode is done?”

“It’s done. This is going to be great, and it’s all you.”

I turn to face him after setting my purse down and catch how his eyes have warmed. “Actually, it’syou,” I insist. “You’re the one who took that hero archetype challenge and ran with it. The casting is perfect. They’re perfect.” I gently chuck his shoulder. “And hot. Well done. A veritable buffet of beefcake.”

I say this to compliment him and his efforts, of course, but my words seem to drain the warmth from his eyes again. “Well,” he says flatly. “Good. Would you be interested in watching the premiere together at my place? With the crew, that is, not just me.”

“Sure! I’m excited to see how it all looks on-screen. I don’t think I had much of a connection with Arjun or Tex—”

“I think the audience will pick up on that, too.”

“—but I think the others were okay. Any one of them could hop on the Fizzy Express.” I grin at him as I do a dorky littlechoo-choogesture. “This will be fun.”

Connor blinks away, studying his shoes by the door, and it means I get to stare at him. I feel light, elated by the success of the first week of filming, and giddy to be alone in a room with him. The sneakiest of thoughts escapes, unguarded:As great as these Heroes are, none are him.

“Do you want a beer or anything?” I say, distracting myself from this truly awful voice in my head.

A short nod. “Sure.”

He follows me into the kitchen, where I grab us each a bottle and lean against the counter. “Who is your favorite?” I ask him.

“My favorite Hero?” He takes a sip as I nod. “I don’t have one.”

“Come on.” I make a buzzer sound. “Really? I see you as an Isaac fan.”

“They all seem like nice blokes. It’s why I cast them.”

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