Yet the irrational and selfish part of me—completely and utterly ruled by Gretchen’s wild ways—wants to pull Owen down that ladder right now and demand he,“Kiss me like Gloria kisses Clyde!”Just to see what would happen. Deep down inside, though, I think I know. And the way that thought blossoms in my chest, my imagination growing more vivid with every new development in our relationship, scares me more than anything.
Owen nudges me, grabbing my hand again from where he’s retaken his seat behind me. “Hey, you okay?”
I’m pulled back to reality and the fact that Sumer, Todd, and the rest of theSuite Hearts’cast and crew are staring at me. The director, who’s still wearing shades despite the spring sun waning in the early evening, shouts, “Cut!” and “Run it back!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, embarrassment weakening my voice. Clearly, I missed something.
Owen twists in his seat, putting up his pointer to the director for an extra minute without any hesitation, and leans close. “Do you need a break? Something to eat?”
“No. I’m…” I rearrange, putting a margin of separation between us. “I’m fine. Sorry. Just spaced out, I guess.” I signal to the director that I’m ready to go and wait for Sumer’s line of questioning.
The makeup artists take the small break to ensure she’s still camera-ready, and though she does look as if her energy is beginning to wane, Sumer plasters on her superstar smile and turns her attention back to her cameraman. “For our last question, our couples will compete for twenty bonus points and the chance to have a candlelit dinner for two, curated by a fine dining chef local to Sugartree, Chloe Rivers.” The group claps excitedly, and rightfully so. Chloe’s place,Garland’s Grits, is awesome. I want that meal. “Owen and Brooke, you’re first for this lightning round. Brooke, you’ll have only ten seconds to write your answer, and Owen, you’ll be doing your best to guess what Brooke will say. Are you ready?”
We both nod, then take deep breaths. The last question was the first I truly felt nervous about. The rest were softballs like, “Name her favorite food combo,” “The movie he could watch again and again,”and“What’s his best physical trait?”
Sushi and sweet tea for me.Field of Dreams. And Owen’s hair, obviously.
But for whatever reason, dread pools in my gut. I don’t think this is going to be a no-brainer. But fine, Southern cuisine is on the line, and I will not lose.
“Okay,” Sumer croons into her mic in her sultry, Southern voice. I half expect her to stop everything we’re doing and sing one of her record-breaking hits, but no such luck. Apparently sheloveslove and will stop at nothing until she squeezes every juicy romantic story from each of the couples here. “Brooke, for twenty extra points and the chance at fine dining on your first night in the Tinkerbell, who made the first move?”
The clock starts ticking down fromtenwhile I have a minor emotional meltdown. We’re gonna lose. I’m officially stumped.
Eight.
We don’t have a first move, right? There’s no first move if you aren’t a real couple. I could say Owen, since he’s the onewho insisted we get married. But, technically, I was the one who initiated… So, maybe it was me?
Five.
I scribble his name, then mine, then his again, wondering what answer he’s going to go with.
Three.
I finally settle on Owen. After all, he did kiss me in Tots the other night before we’d even discussed the logistics of our engagement. But as the timer is about to run out, the memory of a kiss many, many years ago flashes through my mind.
Owen saying my name. My hands in his hair. My lips, crashing into his. Pulling him closer,needinghim closer.
It was me. I made the first move.
One.
The buzzer sounds, locking in my glaringly wrong answer. Sumer bounces on her toes with excitement and Todd squats low, getting what has to be the worst possible angle of Owen and me from below.
“Okay, for twenty extra points, Owen, who made the first move?”
Owen clears his throat. I say a silent prayer that he takes pity on me and lies, but then I remember Owen’s vow of honesty at the start of our agreement. So, yeah, all hope is lost.
“Uh, Brooke did,” he admits, resignation in his voice.
Curse his integrity!
“Oh really?” Sumer is too delighted by this news. As are Sadie, the wife from Tinkerbell Five, and Gloria, who seem to know each other.
“I would have too, honey! Look at him!” Gloria shouts as Sadie rears her head back, laughing so hard her full, afro blowout, hits her unsuspecting husband in the face when he turns to look at his wife.
Sumer waits for the women to stop commending me for securing such a snack of a husband before she turns back to get my response. “And, Brooke, what did you say?”
My muddled answer flicks to the screen, the women laugh louder, and I deflate.
