in order to find love just because of a movie?”
“Because that’s the only message girls get sometimes,” Mack argued. “It’s not one movie. It’s, like, every fucking movie.”
Everyone nodded in silent agreement. The Russian lifted a hip and farted.
“True,” Malcolm said. “But we must find a way to produce and enjoy content that celebrates the fierceness of women without, at the same time, belittling a woman’s ability to decipher fact from fiction.”
“Like romance novels,” Gavin grumbled.
Mack covered his heart with his hand. “Our boy is growing up.”
“Our boy is growing angry,” Gavin said. “It’s getting late. We’re running out of time.”
The Russian stood with a look on his face that said he was running out of time too. “Where is restroom?”
The room erupted in a loud chorus of noooo. Mack jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “Don’t let him near your bathroom, Gav Man,” Mack said, opening the fridge like he owned the place. “You’ll never get the smell out. The man grows toxic waste in his colon.”
“I have digestive problem,” the Russian said.
“Use the bathroom in the basement,” Gavin grumbled. “And you, get the fuck out of my fridge.”
Mack emerged with a take-out container. He peeled off the top using the tips of his fingers to avoid smudging the nail polish. “What is this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I eat it?”
Gavin shrugged. “Yes, whatever. Can we get started, please?”
Each guy had arrived with a bag full of books for him and unceremoniously dumped them out on the floor. Gavin picked up the first one he saw—a dark cover featuring a shirtless man holding a gun. “What the hell is this?”
“Romantic suspense,” Del said.
“Romantic suspense?” he repeated skeptically.
“Yeah, you know.” Mack held up a fist and spoke dramatically to the ceiling. “Is this guy ever going to get laid? Story of your life, dude, amirite?”
Gavin threw the book back on the pile. “I’m being serious,” he grumped. “We made a lot of progress last night, but she got weird this morning when she found out she got into Vanderbilt.”
“Tell us what happened,” Malcolm said.
Gavin summarized the key moments of their date and the morning.
“You’re in the dreaded middle of your story, man,” Del said. “It’s going to feel like one step forward, two steps back for a while, just like in the book. Remember when Irena finally opens up to Benedict about her sister, how they wanted to escape to America?”
Gavin nodded.
“Well, that left her feeling vulnerable and even a little pissed off when he left.”
Gavin covered his ears. “Spoilers! I haven’t read any further than that.”
“The fact that Thea opened up to you a little about her dad is a good sign, but that kind of progress is also scary for her,” Malcolm said. “You made her talk about things that hurt. The G-spot is most tender before it starts to sing.”
“I will pay each of you a million dollars to stop saying G-spot,” Gavin snapped.
“The point is, you chipped away at her walls last night. That’s going to leave her feeling exposed, vulnerable.”
“Yeah, well, so do I,” Gavin admitted quietly.
The room stilled.
“Keep going, man,” Mack said. “This is the good stuff.”
Malcolm leaned back. “Gavin, we spend a lot of time talking about what she’s afraid of, her resistance. What are you afraid of?”
“Losing her.”
“Bullshit,” Del said.
Gavin whipped his gaze to Del’s. “Excuse me?”
“That’s surface-level bullshit,” Del said. “Of course, you’re afraid of losing her. That goes without saying. But if you think all you have to do is win her back to be happy, you’re wrong. You might as well quit now.”
“I don’t—” His mouth froze for a moment. “Can you just stop speaking in riddles and fucking tell me something!”
“What Del is trying to say,” Malcolm said, “is that she can’t be the only one revealing scary things. Have you opened up to her? Really opened up to her?”
“I don’t . . . I d-don’t know.” His armpits began to sweat.
“Then start with opening up to us,” Del said. “What is the one thing you think you’d never, ever be able to do? What scares you more than anything? What don’t you want to talk about?”
The guys stared pointedly.
No. He couldn’t tell them. Not that.
He shook his head.
Malcolm sighed with atypical frustration for the Zen master of book club. “Gavin, we can’t help you if you’re not willing to help yourself.”
“You don’t understand. It’s personal.”
Del grunted and stood. “I can’t waste any more time on you if you’re not going to—”
“She faked it.”
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. He’d