Dating Mr. Darcy - Kate O'Keeffe Page 0,63
She gives me a sardonic smile. “But then I saw the way he’s been looking at this friend of mine lately, you know, when he thinks no one is watching him? He’s all gooey-eyed and smiley.”
Does he do that? My tummy does an involuntary flip.
“No, he doesn’t look at me all gooey eyed.”
“Oh, honey, he does. I worked out pretty fast there’s no point in even trying, not when he’s got it bad for my friend Emma.”
I do my best to ignore the hope rising inside me. “No, he doesn’t,” I reply weakly. “He’s being nice, that’s all.”
She takes a sip of her drink. “Sure he is.”
Kennedy’s words catapult around my head. Sure, he pulls me aside to talk with me at the soirées, and he can be very flirty with me when we’re alone, away from the cameras. But nothing has ever actually happened between us. And even if he did feel something for me, how do I know he doesn’t have feelings for the other girls, too?
It’s all too hard and far, far too confusing.
“Emma?” Kennedy questions when I don’t reply.
I change my position to get closer to her, even though I know every word we utter is being recorded. “If I do feel something for him, and that’s a big if, I know it’ll never work out. We’re from different worlds.”
She shrugs. “So were Romeo and Juliet, and they are the greatest love story of all time.”
“They both died. Plus they were from the same worlds. Their families hated each other.”
She waves my protest away with a flick of her hand. “Whatever. Forget about your different worlds. Surely you know opposites attract?”
I look down at my hands. “I don’t know if I can see it working once the show’s over. We’re too different. I’m from literally the wrong side of the tracks. Home was a tiny two-bedroom house with a small yard. Now it’s a rented studio apartment with a crappy window box. I’m not polo and luncheons and Chanel jackets. I’m baseball and hotdogs and a Budweiser with my bestie watching reality TV.”
Kennedy maneuvers herself so she’s facing me full on. “Em? Do you like him?”
I chew on my lip and then nod, wishing we were having this conversation anywhere but here.
“Then tell me something. How often do you get to meet a guy who sets your soul on fire?” she asks.
I know what the answer is. I know how I feel about Sebastian. It’s crept up on me, so quietly I didn’t even notice it. And now he’s virtually all I can think about.
I swallow, my heart fluttering like a hummingbird. “He’s not what I expected at all.” A small smile busts out across my face. “He’s kind and funny and smart. All the things I thought he wouldn’t be. He told me he likes me, but I don’t know if that’s romantically, or as friends, or what.”
“Of course it’s romantic. He’s hot, you’re hot. You’ll have gorgeous babies together.”
I let out a surprised laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”
“You truly like him, so you’ve got to go for it. You know that, right?”
I glance over at Sebastian and Camille, sitting in the love seat together, their backs to us. Could Sebastian and I have something real? Something that could overcome our differences? Something that could survive outside of this reality show bubble?
My insides twist. “He lives here. My entire apartment could fit into his dining room.”
“What does that matter?”
It matters for a whole host of reasons. What it all boils down to is that I’m scared. I’m scared to fall for someone whose life is so different from mine. I’m scared to put my heart out there, fearful he could choose another girl. I’m scared that if I let myself fall for him, he won’t love me back.
Fairy tale endings are all very well in books and movies, but in real life? Not so much.
So instead, I reply in a light, breezy tone, “I don’t know.”
Kennedy pushes herself upright, her gaze on something behind me. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?”
“She’s going in.”
“What?” I turn to look at the swing seat.
Camille has got her hand hooked around the back of Sebastian’s head as she gazes up at him, her face only inches from his. Sure enough, a moment later, Camille pulls his face down to hers and plants her lips on his.
My insides twist painfully.
It’s no big deal, I tell myself. It’s her kissing him, not the other way around. And I know