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“Wait, you mean have random weirdos meet Jake and me?” Grace asked.
“Just a few of them. We only have so many tickets. But we were thinking that we’d pick a few lucky winners from among the commenters on the website. They’ll have to be local, of course. Can’t afford to fly them in. But the market research team says there’s been plenty of New York City IP addresses active on the site, whatever that means … so we thought, why not?”
“Is that a real question?” Grace asked. “Because I have about a dozen reasons.”
“What’s the problem, Grace?” Camille said, her tone signaling that she was rapidly losing patience. “We’re not asking you to dance naked on TV. Not asking you to have public relations with the guy. We just want you to shake some hands, sit next to Jake, maybe have a beer, and let the people who’ve followed your journey decide once and for all.”
“Decide what, exactly?”
Camille clapped her hands in excitement. “That’s the best part. Alex and I have come up with a perfect way to close out your loop on the website.”
Mayday, mayday, mayday …
“Yesssss?” Julie said, when Camille’s pause for dramatic effect lasted about twenty seconds too long.
“Will they or won’t they?” Camille said with a grand flourish.
“Wait, how is that going to decide who wins?” Riley said. “This is supposed to be a competition. I want to see some girl-power!”
“I don’t think that’s the most important question here, Riley,” Emma said.
“The hell it isn’t,” Riley argued, punching the palm of one hand with her fist, like some sort of tomboy ready to take out all the boys in dodgeball.
But Grace barely heard her. Just what the hell did Camille mean, will they or won’t they?
Will they or won’t they what?
And if the question terrified her, just what would the answer do?
* * *
“I’m guessing you heard Camille and Cassidy’s grand plan?”
Grace took a bite of pizza and washed it down with the soda that Jake held out for her. They’d slipped away to the West Village for his favorite by-the-slice hole in the wall.
“I heard,” she replied. “And I know there’s no way in hell they’ll get you into Yankee Stadium, but I, for one, am delighted. Being on display at a baseball game has always been a big dream of mine, you know?”
“Has it?” he asked as they settled onto a park bench to finish eating their pizza. “Funny, we haven’t covered that yet in any of our getting-to-know-you sessions.”
“That’s because our getting-to-know you sessions are really just research for one-upping the other. Speaking of, what did you think about my assertion that only men with small weewees find it necessary to buy the ‘meat lover’s special’ pizza?”
“I took note,” he said, toasting her with the soda cup. “And did you notice my pizza order today?”
Grace nodded and took a bite of her veggie slice. “Plain cheese. Very nice.”
“Very manly, you mean.”
She grinned. “Yes. Very manly.”
“Excellent. Do you have your phone with you? Perhaps you could just make a little update to that blog post, letting the women of New York know that my boring cheese pizza means I have a massive member?”
“Please. You know I never lie,” she said as she used her thumb to wipe a glob of sauce from his lip.
Jake put a wounded hand over his heart. “I believe there’s a solution to this little disagreement. A redo.”
“A redo.”
“Yes. My penis is being unfairly misrepresented. I want a chance to prove to you that it’s absolutely fitting for a man who’s comfortable ordering just cheese.”
