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“Just one more thing, sorry!” I rushed across the room to the guinea pig enclosure, placing the glasses, plates, and wine opener on the table as I passed. I slid the boys’ side of the enclosure open, reaching my arm in and grabbing Douglas. Sawdust went flying as he tried to escape by hiding under one of his wooden tunnel shelters. Securing Douglas to my chest, I picked up his exercise ball, unscrewing the cap with a flick of the wrist, and deposited him inside it. I screwed the lid back on and placed the ball gently on the floor.
“Douglas has to —” I started to explain, but the words dried up when I looked up to find a now-jacketless Holden unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. His bowtie hung undone around his neck.
“Douglas has to what?” Holden prompted, moving on to unbutton his sleeves and roll them up his forearms like he wasn’t doing an unintentionally sexy striptease in the middle of my apartment.
“Ummm.” I swallowed, the sudden excess of saliva in my mouth having nothing to do with the delicious smells filling the room. My gaze was laser focused on his hands as they rolled up his crisp white shirtsleeves, each turn of the cloth revealing more and more of his tanned forearms. Did words even matter when there were perfectly muscled, veiny forearms on display?
“Sutton?” Holden looked at me, confusion written all over his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yep, yes, fine!” I practically shouted, almost tripping over Douglas in my rush to get to the coffee table. I needed to do something with my hands before they reached out and started groping things they had no business groping. “Douglas is almost half a pound overweight, which is a lot for a guinea pig. I tried putting him on a diet, but he just ate Rascal and Scooter’s food. He’s an emotional eater — very relatable; that’s probably why he ate his babies. So the vet suggested exercising. He won’t use the wheel in his cage, so we’re trying the ball.”
“And how’s that going?” Holden asked, eyeing the ball, which was in the exact same place it had been since I’d placed it on the floor. Not even almost being punted across the room was enough to spur Douglas into action.
“Not great.” I sank to the floor, arranging my dress around me so it looked like I was sitting in a puddle of deep green velvet.
“You’re welcome to change out of your dress if you want,” Holden said. He sat next to me, stretching his legs out under the coffee table. I hadn’t considered that it might not be as comfortable for him to sit on the floor in his tux pants and dress shoes. Yet another faux pas to get my ancestors rotating.
I shrugged, piling some nachos on my plate. I made sure I chose the chips loaded with cheese and homemade guac.
“I’m too hungry to care about clothing. Besides, I doubt I’ll have a reason to wear this dress again.” I glanced down briefly at my dress, then up to take in Holden’s carefully disheveled appearance. “Although we are definitely overdressed for this venue.”
“Have you considered putting Rascal and Scooter on the same diet as Douglas?” Holden surprised me by remembering their names. I couldn’t stop the smile that appeared around my mouthful of nachos. I passed him a plate and silverware set before answering.
“I thought about it, but it kind of seems unfair to them, you know? I’m going to give the exercise ball a shot first. It might just take some time for him to get used to.”
The opening music of the show started, and I tried to catch Holden up at the first commercial break. We — and by we I mean me over heavy protest from Holden — decided it would be better if we started this season over again, so he wouldn’t be so lost. This was only the third episode of the season, so it wouldn’t take long for him to get caught up. I navigated to my recorded shows and pressed play while Holden refilled his glass, saying, “I have a feeling I’m going to need it to get through this.”
I didn’t comment, but nudged my glass toward him in a silent request for a refill.
Ting. Silence.Ting. Silence.Ting. Ting.
Douglass rolled by the coffee table, running his ball directly into the TV console before backing up and running it into my potted plant with a loudting.
“Is he okay?” Holden’s head was tilted, that furrow in his brow back. “He’s running into everything.”
I didn’t bother looking for Douglas. I knew all his tricks. Anothertingcame from the general vicinity of the kitchen.
“Yep, running into things is his form of protest. He’s just letting us know that he’s not happy.” I pointed at the TV. “Okay, you have to pay attention to this part. It’s crucial to this couple’s storyline in the next couple episodes.”
“Sutton, this is a reality TV show, not Shakespeare.” He turned to watch the screen. “Wait, that’s not Destinee.”
“It sure is not. Antoine is two-timing poor Destinee with Tara.” I took a bite of taco al pastor. “Technically,” I added, speaking around a mouthful of food without a second thought thanks to the wine and champagne, “he’s three-timing her, I think, but the identity of the third woman is the cliffhanger in the second episode.”
“Well, there’s something to look forward to.” Holden leaned forward, eyes squinting. “Is that his name tattooed on her bre — er, chest?”
“Yep.” I popped the P. I was smiling like a loon watching Holden experience this silly show. He was watching it with the same intensity I suspected he wore when reading important contracts.
“That was a mistake,” he pointed out sagely. “Getting your significant other’s name tattooed on you is the kiss of the death for your relationship, and Destinee looks like a fighter.”
“She’s definitely scrappy. Who do you think would win that fight, Destinee or Tara?” I got up to put Douglas back in his cage. He was snoozing in the ball, and I wanted to get him back in his cage while I still had some hand-eye coordination left.
Holden blew out a breath, lifting his glass to take a drink of wine. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” He pursed his lips, taking a second to think. “Tara looks tougher, but you’re right about Destinee looking scrappy.”
“Agreed. Tara definitely looks tougher, but she also seems like she’d be all talk.” I put the exercise ball back in the bin and rejoined Holden on the floor, careful not to cover him with my dress.
“Do these women ever find out about all the other women their partners have been talking to in prison?”
“Oh, absolutely! Last season, the woman who was being cheated on almost ran her husband over with his car when she found out that not only was he still legallymarriedto his ex, but he was stillsleeping withher.”
