She pulls her robe tighter around her. “Okay.”
I take a deep breath. “I’ve been given the opportunity to go on a show like this.”
She blinks several times. “Love Island?”
“No, but a show like it. It’s called Camp Couple-Up. It’s new.”
“That’s wonderful, honey!” She claps, looking truly delighted. “I didn’t know you were looking for a boyfriend.”
She looks devastatingly hopeful. If only she knew I’ll be running the biggest scam of my life. “Yeah, we’ll see. There’s some prize money on the line.”
“Oh, well, that’s nice, honey, but the biggest prize would be to fall in love.” I study her face. It’s wide open with genuine enthusiasm. Loveis one hell of a drug. This is a woman who has been abandoned by a man, had her whole life irreparably disrupted, and her greatest wish for me is still to fall in love. “So, are you going to do it?”
“I don’t know.”
Her brow wrinkles. “Why not?”
“Because—” I can’t be the one to burst her bubble, to let her know how cynical I’ve become. So I tell her another side of the truth. “Because I’m scared to leave you alone.”
She gives my arm a light slap. “Oh, honey, I’ll be fine. I’ve loved having you here, but I’ve lived alone for a long time.” Her nonchalance seems genuine. She squeezes my hand. “I’ll be fine, I mean it. You can’t miss an opportunity like this!”
“Do you really think I can do it?” I feel like a little girl, looking for my mom’s reassurance.
“I think they’re going to love you.” I know she’s biased, but it’s comforting that there’s at least one person on this earth that believes in me. “Go find the man of your dreams.”
She wants this for me. For all the wrong reasons, maybe, but she wants me to do this, and so does Cori. If my mother and my best friend both want me to do something, then that’s got to mean something. What am I doing, anyway, working at that shithole bar? There’s got to be something better for me.
I think of the girl Cori knew from high school. I won’t make the same mistake as her. Not only will I make a guy fall in love with me, I’ll charm all of them—the producers, the camera guys, even the other campers. I’ll make myself indispensable, impossible to get rid of. I’m going to go to this scam camp and I’m going to fool all of them, everyone, the whole damn country.
And I’m going to win.
Chapter Five
When Tyler said “international location” I pictured Fiji, Costa Rica, Spain—somewhere sunny and warm, conducive to wearing a bikini all day long and sipping fruity cocktails by the pool.
I was so wrong.
Where I’m actually going is Canada—Thunder Bay, to be precise— which is, according to Wikipedia, “the most populous municipality in Northwestern Ontario,” with 108,843 people, and is located about a million miles from anywhere I’ve ever heard of.
What the actual fuck.
My first flight brought me to Toronto, where I’m waiting for my connection to the illustrious Thunder Bay. The airport is mostly empty, and it takes no time to find the gate. A few people are already there—a young mother, pacing the floor, bobbing a whimpering baby up and down. There’s an old couple wearing matching denim shirts and jeans. Canadians rocking the Canadian tuxedo—amazing. And there’s a guy—hold up, ahotguy. Things just got more interesting.
The hot guy in question is sleeping in his seat. He’s got broad shoulders, and through his baggy grey sweatsuit I can see that he’s built, but not bulky. His hoodie is pulled low over his eyes, obscuring most of his face, but what I can see is promising: a strong jawline, golden skinand full lips. His long legs are outstretched, and his arms are crossed over his abdomen.
I stare at him. Is he truly hot, or is he just the only guy my age at the airport? Sometimes you have to ask yourself this question, but in this case he’s definitely hot. And he’s looking right at me.
Oh shit. I look away quickly. I study my phone like it holds the secrets of the universe. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that he has stood up. He stretches his arms over his head, revealing a swath of stomach, all taut skin and rippling muscles. Hot damn. My eyes follow the trail of hair below his belly button down, down, all the way down to, oh god, his feet. Which I can see in great detail in theirflip-flops.
Flip-flops!
No one wants to see your dogs, dude! Put them back in their kennel!
And just like that, the attraction is dead. Sure, he’s objectively hot, but flip-flops are a major Ick.
Oh well. It would have been fun to have some eye candy for the rest of the journey, but I’ll manage. I put my head down, and thumb through an abandoned copy ofCanadian Livingmagazine. I don’t look up when he walks by me.
The gate is still mostly empty by the time it comes to board. It’s a small plane, with just two seats on each side, and my seat is near the back. I send up a prayer to the travel gods to give me a row to myself.
