The Suitorette, apparently.
It doesn’t happen with any of the other men, even though Phillippe tries at least three times.
He’s so going home tomorrow.
After the men are driven back to the hotel, I sit at the table with Rue, morosely finishing my beer.
She’s tapping away at her tablet, not noticing I look like I’ve lost my best friend.
Which I might very well have.
“You should have kissed more of the men,” Rue says without looking up. “You need to work on that.”
“I need to work on mykissing?” I ask in an icy voice.
“No; not the actual technique, I mean—you need to kiss more of the men. It was only Liam tonight and the others—” She finally looks up from the tablet and freezes when she sees how I’m looking at her.
It’s not a good look.
“I don’t, actually, need to kiss anyone.” I enunciate each syllable to help Rue understand. It’s not the first time she suggested I up the episodes of PDA. Almost every date recap, she makes a comment on how it’s important to find out how compatible I am with the men and kissing them is the best way.
I wonder how many men she had to kiss that she wasn’t really interested in.
“Ah… okay.” Rue stands up quickly, her chair leg protesting as it drags backward. “Let’s go back to Camille’s for the recap.” I can read her thoughts like a book—this conversation, any conversation where I’m shooting daggers at her, is above her pay grade.
She wants backup from the big guns.
But I’m not letting her off the hook that easily. “No, I think we should talk about my kissing now.”
Rue takes a deep breath. It’s not the first time that I’ve seen someone gather their courage before dealing with me. “The audience likes it when you kiss,” she says, aiming for an authoritative tone.
She fails.
“I don’t give a flying fig what the audience says,” I tell her, my tone slow and serious and much more in control than Rue. This ismyshow and I’m not about to pander to their every wish if it has me doing things I’m not comfortable with. “Have you not heard of consent?Myconsent? Just because I am putting myself out there, and trying to make a connection with these men, I’m in no way obligated to participate in any sort of physical activity with them, and they—and you—need to realize that. I will kiss someone whenIwant to. WhenIfeel like it and whenIhave a connection with them. This will not be dictated by you or anyone watching in the far corners of the world. If you want more kissing, find someone else.”
I stare up at Rue, standing with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“Do you understand?”
“Please don’t walk away,” she all but begs with her hands clasped together. “Grayson will fire me for sure if I lose two of you on one date.”
“If you ever suggest I kiss someone I don’t want to, I will see that you’re fired myself. Don’t doubt that I won’t.”
Rue shudders. “Oh, I don’t.”
“We should have gotten that in the diary room,” Hasan says as he lowers his camera. I had no idea he was filming.
“I’ll say that again and again, for whoever needs to hear it,” I promise. “Did you follow Spencer earlier?”
Hasan nods. “Odin picked up him and took him back to the hotel.”
The hotel. “And then?”
“He’s still there,” Rue cuts in. “He’s not leaving unless you send him home.”
“I’m not going to send him home,” I say quietly, more to myself than either of them. I stand up, suddenly exhausted. “Let’s go. Thank you,” I call to the owner of the brewery, who is still hovering behind the bar like he has been since we arrived early in the afternoon.
It’s dusk now, and all I want is something other than beer to drink and then my bed. It might be because I’m so tired, but the brew master makes me think of Dad. Of Kalle. A rush of homesickness washes over me.
