Page 25 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Liar.” Scooting in close, he grabbed my phone and turned the camera in our direction. His long arm stretched out in front of us and his head lined up with mine. “Smile,” he whispered as he took a picture. “Now send that one to your friends and let me know if they approve.”
I awkwardly giggled. “Will do.” I nodded and waved like a dingus as Lance took off.
Avoiding all eye contact with the man, I kept my back turned away from him as I sent the picture to Delaney. I was mortified but also pleased I had a picture to share with my friends.
Rosie:He’s hot, and we have a date for Saturday.
Delaney:Holy shit! Rosie, you sure know how to pick them. He’s gorgeous. Are his glasses real?
Rosie:I think so, why wouldn’t they be?
Delaney:Hipsters. Their glasses are always an accessory not a necessity.
Rosie:Pretty sure they’re real.
Delaney:Ask him.
Rosie:I’m not going to ask him. That would be such a stupid question, and I’m trying to keep my date for Saturday. I kind of like this guy.
Delaney:What about Atticus? Rosie Bloom, are you playing the field?
Was I?
If I thought about it, I guess I was. I didn’t have any real commitments to anyone, and if I wanted to write a solid book, I’d have to get a lot of experience with men, all different kinds, so why not have some fun while I could?
Rosie:Possibly. P.S. That’s a book title: Playing the Field. Amazing series about some hot baseball players.
Delaney:You’re annoying.
“Rosie, we’re ready for you,” someone called out while an excited couple and a less-than excited Baboo walked onto the set.
Reaching for my notebook, I took a deep breath and walked over to the couple. They were wearing matching blue Baboo shirts, khaki pants, and smelled of tuna and cheese. Baboo looked like he was about to throat-punch me; he wasn’t having any of it. This was going to be one hell of an interview.
* * *
“Thank you so much for your time,” I said to Baboo’s people. “Baboo is such a friendly feline.” I knew it was a must to use the magazine’s tagline. I gagged saying it, but it was a requirement. My boss thought it was a good way to connect with the owners of our “stars.” I thought it was a load of crap.
“We can’t tell you how much that makes us happy. We’ve been lifelong subscribers and can’t believe that our little Baboo is finally going to be a featured friendly feline. I can literally die happy.”
And I believed every word from the woman who was staring at me with crazy in her eyes and rabid foam in the crease of her mouth. Only the cat people could really draw you in with their crazy, convincing you they were kind people, when in real life they just wanted to take you back to their lair and use you as a scratching post. I wasn’t falling for it.
“I’ll be sure to email you the pictures and article. We appreciate your time.” I looked over at Baboo whose ears were flattened and his lip quivering as if saying, “If you don’t get me out of here soon, I’m going to go feral feline on you.”
“Safe ride home.” I patted Baboo, who was seconds away from slitting his own throat.
The couple left, practically floating away on cloud nine. It always fascinated me how much people were obsessed with their animals. I liked a good four-legged friend every now and then, but not to the point where I thought they were my child and if I could, I’d breastfeed them three times a day. That’s the impression I got from Baboo’s parents.
As I packed up my notebook and recorder, I felt Lance’s gaze land on me a few times while he packed up as well. He should have left a while ago, but he took a long time gathering his things. He actually stayed and looked through the pictures with the couple, something he didn’t do at our last shoot, but then again, it’s not like he was going to share his pictures with the different-sized litter boxes starring in the last article.
“Are you leaving now?” he called out as I swung my purse on my shoulder. “Without even giving me your number?”
“You didn’t give me a chance.” I turned and smiled at him.
He was sitting on one of his bins with a crooked smile on his face and his arms crossed over his expansive chest. He looked divine, and I wasn’t sure if it was my newfound ambition or the fact that my vagina could now see past the cloud of curls. I was starting to get all tingly inside from a mere interaction with a man. Did this mean my sexual being had awakened? Was that even a thing?
I walked over to him and put out my hand. He looked at it in confusion, wondering if he was supposed to put his hand in mine.
“Hand it over.”
