Page 66 of The True Love Experiment

Isaac gives me a little wink, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning back.

Lanelle introduces this week’s plan: I get to choose which Heroes I want for each of the scheduled activities, including preparing a gourmet meal for my bed-resting sister, planting trees in Balboa Park, taking a craft cocktail class, going deep-sea fishing, pampering with mani-pedis, and a beach cruiser ride around Coronado. Viewers will see the dates compiled sequentially, of course—although the six dates will take place over the next three days, with confessionals and loved-one interviews scheduled for recording on Wednesday.

First up, of course, is the meal prep date. I am given ten minutes to firm up a plan before the cameras will roll again, showing me “thinking it over” before spontaneously giving my choices. Of course, there’s the schoolyard pick vibe—whoever I choose first is the one viewers will assume I am most eager to spend time with—but I also have to be strategic about the best way to get to know each of them outside of their natural elements.

I choose Colby, the Navy SEAL, to cook with. In part because I like the idea of watching his forearms flex while he chops vegetables for the lunch we’re making for Alice, but also because at our date last week he told me his mother owns Querida, one of my favorite taco shops in San Diego County. I bet the dude knows his way around a kitchen.

He does, but unfortunately his expertise means he ends upmansplaining a lot about knife handling—fitting, I suppose, given his profession—and how to debone a whole fish. I flirt and crack jokes and drop innuendo, trying to help him out because I’m sure a lot of this bravado is caused by nerves, but unfortunately, he keeps talking over me. I don’t see an easy way for the editing team to make him look great.

Jude and I plant trees that afternoon in Balboa, and I joke that I am disappointed to discover that he doesn’t sparkle in the sun. His sense of humor seems to have taken the day off, because he gives me an unsolicited monologue about whatTwilightdid to “legitimate vampire literature.” I wonder whether, when it comes time to put the episode together, Connor will keep my unimpressed look directed at the camera.

Speaking of Connor, he’s there. Jesus, he’s so incrediblythere. Being tall in the background, carrying equipment in those stupid, brawny arms. Laughing huskily when I hold up a zucchini and give the camera a knowing wink. Shaking his head in exasperation when I tell Jude our next date should be in Volterra and he readily agrees, clearly without knowing what that means.

At leastConnorknows Volterra is where the sparkling vampires live.

During the craft cocktail class with Nick—complete with disastrous attempts at bottle throwing and a lot of puckering when I use way too much lime—Connor, Rory, and one cameraman are the only crew members nearby. It shrinks the sweet, stained glass–windowed bar down to a broom closet. When Nick feeds me a cherry, instead of looking deep into his eyes, I turn my gaze on instinct to where Connor stands behind the camera rig. They make us shoot it again.

If possible, the proximity issue is worse on the deep-sea fishing date with Evan. Connor is seated directly at my feet, holding the mic gear while Rory throws up over the side of the deck, and the two cameramen struggle with handhelds on the surprisingly turbulent boat ride. At one point, Connor reaches out and steadies me with his hands on my thighs, gripping me until I’ve successfully hauled a huge tuna aboard.

Evan notices, I’m sure, but has no time to question it because as soon as the briny scent of the fish lands at his feet he, too, loses his lunch over the side of the boat—which I am delighted to say is caught on video.

When Evan has recovered, we sit side by side on the now gently rocking boat while the crew changes battery packs. The thing is, the more time I spend with Evan the more I remember how much fun we had, how easy it was to be with him, to joke around and tease each other. But I also remember that, Bart Simpson aside, while there was a spark, there were never fireworks.

We only dated a few months, but Evan played on my brother’s rec league softball team and even met my family once. It’s crazy that in my many years of exuberant dating, only a handful of men have ever managed that.

“I got the invitation to Peter’s wedding,” he says. “I hope he knows I RSVP’d no because I had to”—he gestures around us, indicating the show—“but not because I don’t want to attend.”

“Don’t worry, he knows.”

“You like Kailey?”

“I suspect a love potion was involved because she’s amazing.”

Evan laughs. “I heard the guest list is over seven hundred people.”

I nod. “I don’t think I’ve met seven hundred people in my life.”

He sets his reel in the cage mount and leans his head back to look up at the sky. “I’m sure the catering is going to be insane.”

“It’s the reason I’ve inquired about wearing elastic-waist pants instead of my bridesmaid dress.”

He lowers his voice. “Can I admit that going out has been kind of weird since this thing started? Being recognized on the street is surreal.”

“I’m dreading the million questions from my family members about why I need a show to find a husband.”

“How are you managing the plus-one situation? I assume you can’t take a date, but it’s your younger brother’s wedding.” He winces. “That’s a lot of attention on you for multiple reasons.”

I shrug. I’d normally bring Jess with me, but she’ll be in Costa Rica with River for a much-needed vacation. Of course, I’m fine going to family events solo, but Evan is right: this wedding will be different. Friends and relatives are flying in from as far away as Hong Kong for the occasion. Alice will be set up in a comfortable chair, very pregnant and very happily married. Peter’s fiancée is a well-known dermatologist who also happens to be the daughter of the most successful plastic surgeon in San Diego. As comfortable as I would be going dateless, weddings are for family, and my mother would want me to attend with someone.

“I suppose I’ll have to brave it without a date,” I say.

“A date to what?”

Evan and I turn at the sound of Connor’s voice, and of course this is the one time I don’t have him on missile lock. “My brother Peter’s wedding.”

“It’s this weekend, right?” Connor asks.

“Yeah,” Evan says. “I met Fizzy through him. I’m not going, though, don’t worry.”

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