Page 34 of The True Love Experiment

Jess holds up her hands. “Don’t look at me.”

“Do you know what Connor does for a living?” I ask them.

Wincing, Jess admits, “I think Juno said something about conservation?”

I look over at River. “What about you?”

He presses a surprised hand over his chest. “Me?”

“Yes. You out of any of us.”

“Why ‘of any of us’?”

“Because Connor Prince III is the creator and executive producer on my upcoming dating show, the one that uses your life’s work as its central hook.”

Jess presses her fingertips to her lips, speaking from behind them, “Oh my God, you’ve been fucking withConnorthis whole time?”

“I’ve been nicer lately. I invited him inside after the signing.”

Jess’s wince tells me she’s read this right, but she gives me an out. “Please tell me you mean inside for a cup of coffee.”

“No, inside myvagine.”

River coughs out a sip of water.

“Sadly for him, he turned me down.”

River’s low, mournful whistle saysAwkward.

“It’s fine,” I say. “Honestly, it’s probably good one of us had our heads on straight. I was just feeling sexy for the first time in forever, and he was conveniently there.”

Nice one, Pinocchio.

My best friend nods dubiously. “Right, he was justthere, just a hulking, muscled Adonis that you were attracted to purely because your dry spell has gone on so long.”

“I’m glad you get it,” I tell her with exaggerated gratitude.

“Sorry, wait, it’s just sinking in.” Jess presses her fingers to her forehead. “You propositioned the guy who’s running the show where you try to match with asoulmate?”

“It was just a mood,” I insist. “One and done.”

“I’ve interacted with Natalia more because she’s got Stevie during the week,” Jess says. “But Connor seems like a really sweet man. He doesn’t strike me as one and done.”

“Are you suggesting sweet men can’t also have moods?” I swing my smirking eyes to River. “They can, right, Hot Genius?”

He busies himself with opening the cooler, saying a distracted, “Sorry, just a sec.”

“I just mean,” Jess continues, “you thought this guy was an asshole. You called him Hot Millionaire then Hot Brit—” She cuts off, narrowing her eyes at me. “You did the typecasting thing with him, didn’t you?”

“In my defense he is very hard to pin down. He had a different vibe at first—he was absolutely a Hot Millionaire Executive the first time we met.”

“Connor? Not even a little,” she protests.

“I mean, obviously I’m not going to win this argument today when he’s showing muscular thigh in shorts and wearing a T-shirt that’s, like, four sizes too small, but you just have to take my word that first-impression Connor was a mix between Kendall Roy and a Lego figure, including the hair.”

As usual, my mouth is moving too fast. These last words come out just as I register the long shadow in front of our chairs isn’t from the sunshade.

“Well,” Connor says, “at least tell me I’m Lego Batman or the Hot Lifeguard.”

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