The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,79

as far as money goes, I’m definitely not a gold digger—I make all the money I need on my own, but I do like a guy who has his financial life in order, and making good money is never a bad thing, right? Next, keep them coming.”

“First, thanks for doing this,” another woman says. “And second, what rom-com universe would you want your relationship to exist in?”

“You know I’ve obviously thought about this a lot, so I hope my answer doesn’t seem too prepared, but I’d have to say. . . Love Actually.” As soon as I drop that name—seriously one of my favorite movies, I watch it every Christmas—the whole room swoons. “But that’s not specific enough, is it? I’d want to live in the Hugh Grant scenario because a.) who doesn’t want a hot guy who’s a boss, and b.) I’ve never been totally secure in how I look, and I like the idea of finding a guy who appreciates who I really am and is super attracted to me.”

“Good answer,” Sabina whispers.

“Thanks. Hold the phone straight though.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

I call on someone else, and I bet I know what the next question is going to be. “Yes?”

“What’s a deal breaker for you that you’d want your future boyfriend to know?”

“That’s the easiest one for me to answer. Cheating. No cheating, now or ever. No drunken excuses, no exes that show up suddenly, nothing. It’s me, and only me, or it’s nothing.”

I might be totally dumb, but I realize halfway through this that I’m describing Conor exactly, minus the last part. But, now, even that may not be the case. Is it seriously possible that I’ve ghosted him all this time for nothing? I can’t think about that right now. I go back and answer questions for another fifteen minutes or so, but the whole time my mind is on Conor.

Is he my perfect boyfriend? I think he might just be. I decide to do something I should have done weeks ago—I text him.

Me: Hey. I need to talk to you. Dinner tonight?

I don’t expect a response right away, but I get one anyhow. I’ve never been so happy to see those three little bubbles under my text.

Conor: I thought you’d never ask.

Shoshana

“Standing there in all his Adonis glory.”

I can’t remember ever feeling this nervous before in my life, not even when I had to make that impromptu announcement on Tori’s vlog announcing my new channel. But here I am, waiting for Conor, and I can’t keep my heartrate down. Given our public display at the restaurant last night when he approached me, we decided to meet at a coffee bar away from the VidCon crowd.

Sabina was a little concerned when I told her she’d have the night to herself because I was meeting Conor to talk, but she understood my reason for needing closure. While I wait for him to arrive, I run through everything I thought I knew about what happened, and everything I heard at his seminar a few hours ago.

The holes in what I thought I knew seem to be filled with everything he said happened when he was talking to his fans. Maybe Tori was right after all, and there was a simple explanation I hadn’t wanted to hear a couple months ago when it felt like he’d ripped my heart from my chest.

Breathe. No need to be dramatic.

“Shosh,” I hear from behind me.

“Hi, Conor,” I breathe out when I turn to see him standing there in all his Adonis glory.

“Thank you for finally agreeing to hear me out.”

“I’m still not sure that I’ll like what I hear, but a few things you said yesterday and this morning in the hallway have stuck with me and raised a couple questions. Who better to answer those questions than you,” I try to say as nonchalantly as I can.

“Regardless of your reasons, I’m glad you’re here right now.” He offers me a genuine smile and my heart almost melts.

“What would you like to drink?” Conor asks as we seat ourselves off to the side, away from the rest of the patrons. I have no idea what this conversation will entail but being out of earshot may be to our benefit should this get heated. Sitting across the small table from each other, my eyes are on Conor. And his eyes are on me.

“I don’t really want anything,” I admit. Strangely, my desire for anything but answers has left me wanting nothing but closure, or whatever