The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,57

Crazy girl!” That gets her attention. Apparently, the crazy respond to insults. “Who are you?”

“Mind your own business, bitch!”

Okay, I’m officially through the looking glass right now. I look over at Conor, who’s signaling to the security guard in the back of the room to do something. Jessica seems unfazed, even at the point when the very angry looking security guard puts his hands on her and tries to gently escort her out of the room.

“Get your hands off of me!” she yells. “Conor, I just want to talk. I just want to spend time with you! I love you!!!”

Woah. She loves him? That escalated fast.

“Security, please take her out of here. She isn’t allowed to be within one hundred yards of me, technically.”

Okay, mental note—ask Conor about the last statement immediately after this is over, which I’m guessing is about any second now. “No, no, don’t make me leave! I LOVE YOU!!!”

The next part freaks me out in ways that I’m finding hard to describe. After declaring her love, for the second time, to the man I just had some crazy sex with, she starts to howl.

Yup. That’s what I said. She starts to fucking howl.

“Wooo wooo! Conor, I’m your she-wolf, why won’t you see me? We can be pack leaders together.”

Did that bitch just say she-wolf?

The old—and super underpaid for what he’s doing right now—security guard drags this Jessica woman out of the room, literally kicking and screaming the entire way. As soon as she’s gone, a weird silence falls over the room. I look at Conor, then at Tori, then over to the silent and stunned crowd. This is awkward, even for me. I don’t know what to do. And when I don’t know what to do, I talk.

“So. . . any other questions, guys?”

Conor is still standing, looking stunned. Even though I couldn’t even articulate what just happened, I don’t blame him at all.

“I’m so sorry, everyone.” He signals to the camera guy to shut down the live feed. “I need to. . . go to take care of something. I’m sorry. We’ll refund all of your ticket money.”

He walks off the stage and leaves me standing there with a bunch of fake alphas staring me down, looking at me for guidance like kids who can’t find their parents.

“So, yeah, what he said.”

I seriously want to die. I need to find out what’s going on.

Shoshana

“I Don’t Care About Your Restraining Order.”

Outside is total chaos.

People who came to see our show are scattering like bugs. I see a bunch of them holding their phones and probably leaving all sorts of comments on the video feed.

At the same time, the security guard is threatening to call the actual cops while my new least-favorite crazy person is still ranting and raving so loud that I can hear her from over twenty feet away.

I finally get eyes on Conor, who’s standing a few yards away from Jessica, turning red. I walk over to him.

“Can I help?” I ask.

He turns towards me. “I wish. I don’t know what to do, I’m freaking out a little.” This is the most shaken I’ve ever seen him. I want to be me and make a joke about how an alpha would handle the situation but I show some uncharacteristic restraint and just laugh in my head —though some of it spills out. “What?” he asks when I giggle.

“Nothing, sorry. But do you want me to call the cops or something?”

“I’d rather not have to do that. I see a few of my guys already have their phones out recording this—last thing I need is to have to fill out a police report—again.”

Pause.

The whole time I’m talking to Conor the crazy girl is screaming at him at the top of her lungs. Some of it is imperceptibly nutso, but I get a few sentences here and there. The stalker playlist includes:

Conor, I love you, let me be your she-wolf!

Conor, I love you...

Actually, let’s just assume they all start with the phrase ‘Conor, I love you.’ Back to the list:

Why won’t you return my messages?

I want to be with you forever.

I don’t care about a restraining order, I’m your alph-ette.

That one makes me stop what I’m saying to Conor and raise an eyebrow. First, she made up a word that doesn’t exist, which I thought was my thing. She can’t have my thing. But, more important than that is the whole restraining order thing.

Finally, Conor, who’s been legit trying to ignore her while I calm him