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I do squirm then. Simon’s fingers dig further into my flesh, but it’s not painful. If I were anywhere else, I would grind down again just to see what might happen.
“Um …” I say.
“Only all of it,” Simon says, and I turn my head slightly to look at him. “Come on, guys. You know that reality TV isn’t real in the slightest.”
“Looks pretty real from where I’m sitting,” Jarod says, one eyebrow raised as he stares at me, planted firmly in Simon’s lap.
I’m still reeling from Simon’s comment enough to not really be focused on what Jarod said. I watch Sara touch his arm and then slightly shake her head at him. He leans back, still grinning.
“Forgive him. He doesn’t have a filter,” Sara says, prompting a few people around the room to laugh.
It effectively breaks the tension, and I push my hands on the armrests beside me and hoist myself to standing. Simon’s fingers fall from my body, and I want to sit back down, pull his arms back around me, and pretend that we are something after all, but that wouldn’t be fair to either of us.
I glance behind me to see Simon’s eyes fastened on my ass before he realizes I’m looking, and they lift to mine. I press my lips into a thin line when his face holds no expression, and I inwardly chastise myself for thinking that maybe something was happening. This is still just a job to Simon, and his comment proved it, showing me that he doesn’t think any of this is real.
I wish I didn’t either, but there are times my inner romantic peeks out, trying to convince me that I can change his mind, that he will wake up one day and see that I’m everything missing in his life. But the difference between reality TV and real life is, one is a carefully constructed fairy tale, and real life is a cautionary tale.
After chatting a bit longer, Simon and I say our good-byes and climb into his car. The darkness outside wraps us in a warm blanket, keeping words in and letting the silence linger as he drives. I play with the strap on my purse. My fingernail rubs back and forth across the faux leather, catching slightly on the little bumps, and I stare out the window, watching the streetlights go by.
When I agreed to do this—with a lot of prompting from Desi—I didn’t imagine myself being here, stuck for six weeks with someone who didn’t want to do this. I thought even if I was matched with someone incompatible, he would at least want to try and form a connection, would be willing to be open and communicate. Instead, I got the grinch of the dating world. Seems about right with my love-life history.
“What?” Simon’s voice pulls me from my reverie.
“Huh?”
“That’s the fourth time you’ve sighed since we left Jarod and Sara’s.”
“It is?” I truly don’t remember sighing at all. “I guess I’m just tired.”
“You sure that’s it?”
I’m mulling over why you don’t like me. Why are you doing this if you aren’t looking for a soul mate? Why would you sign up and get matched with someone who was looking for their person and offer them false hope when you just intended to cut your losses at the end of the show? I get that reality TV isn’t real life, but some of us were hoping for a bit more. I desperately want to know what it feels like to have your lips pressed against mine.
“Yes, I’m just tired. Tonight was fun. I really like Sara,” I say, deflecting from my racing thoughts.
“Yeah, she’s great.”
I watch Simon’s thumb drum on the steering wheel. I wonder if he’s feeling weird inside, like me, or if this is just another normal situation for him. He doesn’t seem to get flustered unless I bring up his ex-wife.
“I don’t have a lot of friends here, really just my cousin and a few of the teachers at work, so it will be nice to have another person around to do things with.” I don’t know why I’m acting like she and I will be friends once this show is over. We will go our separate ways, and Sara will be loyal to Simon, therefore extinguishing any sort of connection we made tonight.
“We should do a double date,” he says, causing my jaw to drop and my head to swivel his way. He must feel my stare because I can see his hand tighten on the steering wheel. “If that’s something you want to do,” he follows up with when I don’t answer.
“Uh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds like fun,” I say and inwardly cringe at how stilted we are being.
I just sat in his lap for an entire hour, and now, we are acting like strangers.
“Okay, I’ll tell Jarod and Sara,” he says with a nod, and we fall into silence again.
I can’t figure him out.
Is he trying to make this as normal as he can for the time we have together or as awkward as possible? I can’t decide.
“Is that something that will be televised?” I ask, and he takes a moment to answer.
“I think the contract did say something about all dates and get-togethers with friends being filmed.”
“Why didn’t tonight’s get-together get filmed?”
Simon glances over at me, a smirk tilting one side of his mouth up, and it makes my heart flutter in the dim light. He’s breathtaking, and he has that whole broody thing going, but when he shows a flirty side or a slightly silly side, I can’t keep my hormones from leaping in appreciation.
“All known get-togethers.”
His tongue sneaks out to wet his bottom lip, and oh my God, I think I’m about to lose it right now. I quickly look out the window, trying to get ahold of my emotions. It’s the several glasses of wine and endorphins from being around other people that are getting to me. I’m not falling for Dr. Simon Morrow. I’m not.
But that tongue swipe plays on a loop inside my thoughts the rest of the way home and the entire night that I lie in the guest bed of his house, only a few rooms away from him.
