CHAPTER SIX

L uke

I march from the conference room and go straight to one of the exercise rooms. I head for the weight rack and pick up some heavy dumbbells, sit on the bench, and start lifting.

Normally, the counting soothes me, but today my body remains jittery. Maybe I’m still exhausted from my late-night session yesterday. I grit my teeth and set my jaw.

Troy and Noah are on the treadmills, and I close my eyes.

Apparently, that doesn’t keep them from noticing me, because when I finish my set, Troy is grinning at me.

“So, how was the meeting?” Troy asks.

I glower at my best friend and roommate. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Troy says blithely, and now I only hate how much I do.

“You ruined my favorite show.”

His face sobers. “Really?”

“But you got to meet Sebastian Archer in person.” Noah’s eyes dance like he knows a secret. “Bet that was...cool.”

“He hates me.”

Troy blinks. “Everyone likes you, dude.”

“Yeah, there’s no way that’s true.” Noah plops onto the bench beside me, sending me his sunshine smile that’s been firmly in place ever since Finn declared to the world that Noah is absolutely awesome.

“What makes you think he doesn’t?” Troy looks like he’s debating going to yell at Sebastian for not being nice to me. I sigh.

“He was fine,” I say. “Everything is fine.”

“You said fine twice.” Noah chews on his lower lip.

“Then it must be true.” I don’t bother to mask the fakeness in my voice.

Troy’s expression darkens, protective angry roommate mode activated.

I shrug. “It’s a short program. Just one month. It doesn’t matter.”

Noah and Troy exchange worried looks. They should have acted more concerned before they signed me up.

I close my eyes.

I’ve never told Troy and Noah that I know Sebastian. It would be a strange thing to say, especially because they might ask me if I’d reached out to him or something. It seems less weird to be mildly obsessed with a TV show where I don’t know anything about the host. And the guy I knew in high school is different from the guy now. He was less confident, more meek, and less...dazzling.

I’m also pretty sure the guy in high school knew who I was. This guy hasn’t once mentioned he knows me. Am I forgettable?

I close my eyes.

I’m taller, broader, more chiseled.

But I was obsessed with hockey back then and that obsession hasn’t changed. God, wouldn’t he know I was from Ashcove? Wouldn’t that trigger something in him?

And God, we’re going to spend a lot of time together. He’s going to be in my hotel room, filming me. I put my weights down, even though I haven’t finished the set.

I scramble for my AirPods and find the angriest song on my phone, even though that’s so not my normal style, then run on the treadmill until I struggle to breathe, and I can pretend it’s because of my training and not anything else.

Not Sebastian.

Not the way he avoids eye contact with me. Not the way he smirks when he sees me, even though maybe in my deepest imaginations I imagined us becoming friends if we ever met in person.

Maybe I imagined we could talk about how we both got out of Ashcove. Maybe I thought we could compare and contrast Hollywood life and pro-athlete life.

But it’s ridiculous.

Sebastian and I never had anything in common, even back in high school, even back in middle school, even back in elementary school.

I wish I’d never seen his face. I wish I’d never recognized him. And I certainly wish I’d never seen all his shows.

I’m going to be the laughingstock of my favorite show.

Every night if I walk into a bar, I have puck bunnies approach me, armed with their statistical knowledge of hockey, their bright smiles, and their floral-doused scents, as if they think my reaction to a wildflower meadow is to roll around in it and vow to worship it for eternity.

But at least then I don’t have millions of viewers watching me, judging each awkward interaction, and finding me lacking. There are forums devoted to Seeking Mr. Right . Not to speak of the water coolers on every office floor.

What if I’m the most watched Mr. Right ever? Will I be the Mr. Right who is surprisingly uncharming in real life? The one with the strained expression and the bad small talk? It’s not like I can even discuss Seeking Mr. Right with whatever women Sebastian and his team have scrounged up.

My heart races, and I lower the treadmill speed.

But there’s no button I can push that will make this feel better. Only future embarrassment lies before me. And every time I watch Seeking Mr. Right in the future, every time I see a poster, every time I see an ad, I won’t be thinking about how far that boy in high school came...but I’ll be thinking about my own inadequacies and deficiencies.

I’ll be the Mr. Not-So-Right, like I’ve been to my past girlfriends. The guy they’re thrilled to date initially, until they gradually pull away from me, until I find them in the arms of other friends, pantiless, and I’m wondering why the only thing I’m wondering is why my only emotion is relief.

Finn enters the room, probably coming back from a massage, and I see the way Noah beams at him, as if he’s a Neanderthal viewing the sun again after a chilly, wet night. Will I ever feel that way?