Page 57 of The One You Want

I pulled out the workbook and went in search of a few pens while Grant grabbed more beer from my kitchen. “Let’s start with the firstquiz.”

To my surprise, Grant wanted to take the quiz, too, so I found him a notebook to record his answers. “First question,” he read. “Would you rather rescue pandas in China or operate a bird sanctuary in CostaRica?”

I stared at him. “You’re messing withme.”

He showed me the quiz and sure enough, it was right there, in all itsridiculousness.

“Well what if I don’t want to do either of those things?” I asked. “What in the hell do I know about pandas or Costa Ricanbirds?”

“Well if you could only learn about one of those things, which would itbe?”

I grumbled as I wrote down my answer, and again with the next one. This quiz was every bit as ridiculous as the rest of the book and I had no idea how it could possibly help meto—

“Huh,” Grant said, looking down at the scrawled numbers in my notebook where he’d been adding up our scores. “According to this, you’re feeling directionless in your professionallife.”

I gaped at him. “It does not saythat.”

Again he held up the book so I could see the result key. Sure enough, there was my score next to the sentence on professionalinterests.

“Jenny,” he whispered, staring at me with wide eyes. “Maybe the book ismagic.”

I snorted out a laugh and Grant joined in. We laughed so hard the cats jumped up and fled from our mirth in disgust. When we finally pulled ourselves together, Grant turned the page to find the secondquiz.

The questions were no less insane, but I was starting to have fun with it now. It was hardnotto have fun sitting next to Grant. He had such a different way of looking at the world, finding amusement and enjoyment in things I never would have given a second thought. From his long monologues rhapsodizing over his favorite soup to his detailed descriptions on the flowers he was currently working with, everything was a story with Grant. Everything was worth his notice, an entire world filled with things to find humor or interestin.

For so long, I had seen the world as being filled with things to scare me. Things to judge me or hurt me or make me feel small. I wanted to be more like Grant—unafraid, interested, busy, amused. Productive and passionate. Loyal—I mean, how many people would be willing to fake date their friend and sit through all the nonsense of a self-help book that’s inexplicably obsessed with wild-lifemetaphors?

Once we’d completed the second quiz, Grant read out my results. “You should examine professions that allow you to be creative, organized, and to interact with others, because that is from where you draw yourstrength.”

“Well, now we know the book is full of it,” I said. “I draw my strength from interacting with others? That’s like, the opposite ofme.”

“Well, it’s a starting point, at least.” He thumbed through the next few pages. “It looks like at your meeting you’ll start brainstorming ideas for careerdiscovery.”

I brightened at that. Figuring out what career I was supposed to have was the only reason I was going through with this. For all the silliness that usually imbibed our meetings, the Libbies were full of intelligent, motivated, successful women. Surely one of them would have a good idea of what I should be doing with mylife.

“Hey, what do your results say?” I asked, leaning next to him to peek over his shoulder. Before I could see anything, he tucked his notebook under the copy ofFind Your Pride. “Hey! You sawmine!”

“Mine is stupid,” he saidevasively.

Well screw that. I lunged over his shoulder, grabbing for the book, and he grunted in surprise. “Get offme!”

“Let me see your results!” I shouted back, scrambling for it. He grabbed at my hands, trying to keep me away, but I was too quick for him. I managed to get my fingers on the notebook and pulled it against my chest, cradling itthere.

“Well that’s no fair,” he muttered, breathing hard. “I can’t grab itnow.”

I had expected him to make another move for it. “Why’sthat?”

He gestured at my chest. “It’s too close to your…youknow.”

I collapsed laughing. “How old areyou?”

“Excuse me for being agentleman,” he huffed, but I could hear the amusement in hisvoice.

I pulled the notebook just far enough away from my body to look at the writing, but that, apparently, had still been too much. As soon as the paper wasn’t clasped to my chest, Grant made his move, grabbing the corner and pullinghard.

“No way!” I shouted, tightening mygrip.

He pulled harder and I yanked back in return. Then, suddenly, he relaxed his hold, sending me sprawling back against the couch. In my surprise, I dropped the notebook next to the couch and he lunged for it. There was nothing to do but follow him down to the carpet, and we wrestled over it for a good couple of minutes until I was laughing too hard tobreathe.