“Definitely,” she says.
“Hey,” I say, “just because he’s hot—”
X’s head whips around. “You think I’m hot?”
Gobsmacked is the word I’d use to describe his face.
In situations like this, most people wish for a hole to open up and swallow them into the ground. But I don’t want that. What I want is to be the hole. I don’t know what that sentiment means, but I’m sure I mean it.
“I meant to say she thinks you’re hot,” I say, stabbing my finger at Fifi.
Fifi cocks her head and stares at us the way you’d look at a piece of art you don’t quite understand in a museum. “Huh,” she says.
“What?” I ask.
“Finally, I understand what problem is.”
“Great. Maybe you could tell me,” X says.
“Never mind problem,” she says. “I have solution. Tomorrow instead of practice, you two go out and get to know each other.”
“We’re fine—” I begin.
“Not fine,” she counters. “One of most important elements of ballroom is chemistry. Go out and get to be friends.”
Put like that, it almost sounds reasonable.
X grins. “Yes, whatever it takes,” he says, because, annoyingly, he says yes to everything.
Of course I have to agree too.
We dance three more dances and earn another eighteen dollars.
Fifi takes a ten-percent cut.
Back at the studio, X and I exchange phone numbers before going our separate ways.
* * *
——
There’s a subgenre of romance books I like to call Shipwrecked. In them, the unsuspecting （and usually feuding） main characters are somehow forced to spend enough time together that they realize how much they like spending time together. For example, the couple is trapped in a （small, romantic） cabin in the woods because of a snowstorm. Or the couple is stranded on a （beautiful, tropical, not-at-all-dangerous） deserted island because of stormy seas.
What I’m saying is that Fifi is a storm, X and I are the unsuspecting main characters, and us getting to know each other for the sake of dance chemistry is a small cabin in a snowy wood.
CHAPTER 18
A Strict Definition
Sophie, “Me,” Cassidy and Martin >
Sophie: So what you’re saying is you’re going on a date with the sexy new guy you met at your sexy new hobby. Do I have that right?
Me: It’s not a date
Sophie: I’m using the strict definition of the word
Cassidy: Which is what?
Sophie: Two or more people meeting at a fixed location at an appointed time for a predetermined reason
Martin: Where are you going?
Me: Ughhhh
Me: Ughhhhhhhhh
Me: He wants to go on one of those celebrity tours
Martin: Ew
Me: Right?!
Sophie: I’ve always wanted to go on one of those
Cassidy: Rlly? didn’t think u’d b in 2 that
Sophie: What? I can be shallow
Cassidy: I like that ur not shallow
Me: Are you guys flirting? It feels like you’re flirting
Cassidy: We r not flirting
Sophie: Exactly
Me: ANYWAY
Sophie and “Me” >
Sophie: Why’d you say that thing about Cassidy flirting with me
Me: I was just kidding
Me: Why?
Me: Do you want her to flirt with you?
Sophie: Of course not
Sophie: It was just a weird thing for you to say
Cassidy and “Me” >
Cassidy: No tongue on the 1st date
Me: Shut.
Me: Up.
Martin and “Me” >
Me: I think something’s up with them
Martin: Yeah, maybe
Me: I blame spring
Me: It’s like the pollen makes people extra kissy
Martin: You’re saying kissing is an allergic reaction?
Me: For which there is no cure
CHAPTER 19
Not a Date, Part 1 of 3
I GET TO LaLaLand Tours with fifteen minutes to spare. The office is in a strip mall with a pawn shop on one side, a check cashing place on the other and Hollywood Walk of Fame stars stenciled into the sidewalk in front. Irony, thy name is Hollywood.
As soon as I walk in, a pretty but entirely too-animated young white woman holding a clipboard and wearing a LaLaLand Tours T-shirt hands me a sheet of paper. On one side is an FAQ with a prominent disclaimer reminding us that we are not guaranteed to see celebrities frolicking in their natural habitat on this tour.
X walks in ten minutes after when we said we’d meet. I think one side effect of living in the moment is that it makes you late for appointments. As usual, his dreads are up high on his head. He’s wearing skinny black jeans, a short-sleeved white button-down and blue floral canvas sneakers. I watch him move about the room and realize I’m not the only one watching him. Besides his looks, there’s something compelling about him. Maybe it’s the openness of his face? Or the way he seems so interested in the world, like right here, right now is exactly where he wants to be.