The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,24
women come up to me and give me hugs, ask to take pics with me, ask for a shoutout on social media, and tell me how much of an impact my channel has had on them. “These ladies are the best!” I yell over to Tori.
“See. I told you. They love you.”
It’s funny how it took a swift kick in the ass from Tori for me to have the courage to actually branch out on my own and go from her sidekick to a legit YouTuber, and now I don’t remember a time before that. The channel is doing everything that I could ever hope for—it’s generating a nice income for me, it’s fun, and it’s giving people something to look forward to when I publish new content. It’s all working out perfectly.
Then, out of nowhere, I hear his voice.
“Shoshana.” Conor just said my name. Which means he knows my name. Which means his blue balls had him doing his own research—on me.
At first hearing his voice surprises me and makes me a little bit nervous all over again, but when I turn and see him my nerves are gone, and they’re replaced with. . . what’s the opposite of having nerves? “Oh, now you remember me, huh? Stupid.” I wasn’t trying to go all mean like that, and I really dragged out the ‘u’ sound in that word like I’m in the third grade and yelling at a boy I secretly like but openly hate.
“Wow. Okay, fine, I guess I deserve that. I was being stupid, you’re right.”
“First off, yes, you do. And second, I don’t think you’re stupid. Like, not in the unintelligent sense.”
“Is there any other sense?” he asks. He’s smiling, so I know he’s not really offended. “Pretty much all that word really means.”
“Of course there is. There’s ‘stupid’ as in I don’t think all of your brain cells are friends, and ‘stupid’, as in you make dumb decisions. You’re the second one.”
“Good to know.”
I see the women in line for me start to whisper to one another and stare are me and Conor. I can only imagine what they’re thinking. They probably know of him, and some of them may have seen the video he made about me.
“I have to get back to my people, Conor.” Just then, before he can answer me, Tori comes over. She must have seen us talking and worried about what was going on.
“Hi,” he says. “Tori Klein, right?”
“That’s me. How are you, Conor?”
“Amazing, as always. I was just saying hi to your friend here. Our conversation last night got. . . cut off a little.”
Tori looks at me. “Don’t let this line get jammed up. They might get angry and force you to use your Kung Fu skills.”
“Right. We can’t have that,” I say. “Conor, I’ve gotta go.”
“I understand. I need to get back also. I told my assistant, James, that I was going on a bathroom break. I’m doing another seminar when everyone breaks for dinner. I’d love for you and Tori to stop by. What do you say?”
Uhhh. . . I really don’t want to go to another dumb talk, and I know Tori sure as hell doesn’t want to either, but then again, I get to look at him some more, so. . . “Sure, we’ll be there.”
“We will?” Tori asks.
I turn and give her the eye. “We will. We’d love to. We’ve never been more excited.”
“Great,” Conor says. “I’ve gotta run. See you all in a few hours.”
“Looking forward to it.” Tori’s voice is so sarcastic right now that I don’t even want to look at her. But I kinda have to. Nope, that was a mistake. “What the hell, Shosh? I have things to do later. I don’t want to sit and listen to his men-being-men bullshit.”
“I don’t really either, but I need you to just be my wingwoman.”
“Wingwoman?” she asks, leaning into my ear so no one hears the next part. “He already wants you, Shosh. This isn’t a wingwoman situation.”
“Fine, wrong term. But I need you to. . . I don’t know, I just need you. Would it really kill you to come listen to some of this? If anything, it’ll give you some new material for your next book.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually.”
“See? I’m Miss Glass Is Half Full. I can find the silver lining in anything.”
We finish out the next few hours of signings. Literally every one of my fans is amazing. Some of the women I’ve actually interviewed,