Love Signals: An opposites-attract, forced proximity, only one bed, revenge romantic comedy (Love St

32. I Should Have Listened to My Father…

Allie

I’m a professional.I can do this. I can get through a two-hour tour with the man who tricked me into falling in love with him. I’ll do it for the kids. I’ll keep it fun, light, and educational, even though my heart shattered the moment he admitted he was just hitting on me to avoid having to admit he struggles with reading. Today, I’ll be the one giving the Oscar-winning performance because I’m going to smile and laugh and pretend everything’s fine when what I really want to do is go outside and key the word LIAR into the hood of his fancy schmancy SUV.

I feel a lump in my throat as I hurry down the hall to the lobby. No. Do not cry. Do not. You can do that when you get home. Or when you get into the car to go home, but not until you’ve left the parking lot. Just get through this with your dignity intact.

As soon as I get to the lobby, it’s clear that the students are already restless—shuffling around and elbowing each other. Two of them are playing keep away with one poor kid’s beanie. Normally, I’d be concerned because I’d have to find a way to rein them in, but today, it’s not my problem. In fact, I’ll have the pleasure of watching Mr. Smooth-Talking-Lies-Out-of-His-Ass try to wrangle them and fail miserably because no one can effectively deal with nine-year-olds.

I hurry over to their teacher, Mrs. Brutain, a no-nonsense woman in her forties who I’ve met numerous times before. “Welcome back.”

She lowers her voice. “Is it true that Hudson Finch is here?”

I suddenly realize she’s not dressed in her usual teacher style of khaki pants, a button-down shirt, and a long cardigan. Today she’s in a sleek black skirt and a slightly-sheer button-up shirt that has one too many buttons open. Et tu, Mrs. Brutain? Et tu? Is no one immune to his charms? I give her a tight smile. “Yes, in fact he’s going to be giving the tour today.”

Her face turns bright red and she reaches up and touches her hair. “Really? He is?”

“Yup,” I say. Turning to the class, I say, “Hi, kids! I’m Allie. I’m so glad you’re here. Who’s excited to learn about the world of SETI?”

A few of the children smile at me, and one little girl nods enthusiastically. She’s my people. She totally reminds me of me when I was that age. Well, other than her straight teeth, the well-behaved blonde hair, and the obvious sense of style and self-confidence.

Hudson comes to stand beside me. “Hi, everyone, I’m Hudson. I’ll be helping Dr. Cammareri here give you a tour.”

The kids gasp, their eyes growing wide as they all start to whisper. One of them shouts, “Hey! You’re the beach cop!”

Hudson gives them his stupid leading-man smile. “I sure am. Who’s seen Beach Cops?”

All their hands shoot straight up in the air. “I’ve seen it eight times,” one boy says.

“Wow, that’s a lot of times,” Hudson answers. “I think you’ve spent more time on that movie than I have.”

“It shows,” I mutter.

Hudson turns to me. “Excuse me?”

Setting my jaw, I say, “We should show them around.” I turn to the class. “Hudson is going to be your tour guide today and I’m tagging along to see if he’s learned anything in the six weeks he’s been here. He’s been studying how to be a radio astronomer, which is what I do for work. Does anyone know what an astronomer is?”

When the kids shake their heads, I say, “Well, let’s let Hudson explain it.”

He smiles at me, but I can see in his eyes, he’s hurt. Well, good. That makes two of us.

He turns to the class. “I’d be happy to. An astronomer studies outer space—things like planets, stars, and other galaxies. There are lots of different types of astronomers, but in the case of the people here at the SETI Research Institute, their specific area of interest is in seeking out and communicating with extraterrestrial intelligent life forms. Does anyone know what that means?”

Hands shoot up, and little me says, “Like E.T.?”

“That’s right,” he answers, all warm and smooth and despicable. “Someday they’re going to make contact with aliens like E.T.”

Clearing my throat, I say, “Well, they won’t look like E.T. of course. That was just a pretend version, designed by someone who clearly doesn’t understand evolution because honestly, there’s no way his species would have survived with those stubby little legs. They never would’ve been able to outrun predators, therefore their civilization wouldn’t have survived long enough to achieve spaceflight.”

The kids all stare at me like I’ve suddenly sprouted a goatee, but Hudson just nods. “Man, she’s smart, hey kids? Dr. Cammareri knows everything there is to know about space and evolution. Now, should we get started on the tour?”

“Yes!” the class shouts, which is just so irritating. Not once, in my eleven years of giving tours, has a class cheered. Not one damn time.

He gestures for them to follow him, and they do exactly that. I wait and bring up the rear, frustrated beyond all imagination that this is going to be so easy for him. He’s got them all fooled, just like the rest of the world. But I’ve seen behind the curtain, and the Great and Powerful Hudson isn’t who they think he is. He’s not the super-handsome, charming, easy-going, charismatic person he’s masquerading as. He’s a wizard of deception. A master of manipulation. Another man pretending I meant something to him.

My mind wanders back to when I first opened my eyes this morning. My chest was tight and my stomach felt heavy. And I knew what the pattern was. My brain must have been working on it all night while I slept—figuring out every moment he charmed me out of thinking clearly. His whole ‘I have something more fun in mind,’ bullshit, followed by the ‘I know it’s customary to wait until the end of the first date to do this, but I’d very much like to kiss you right now.’

Urgh! How could I have been so stupid to fall for that? I knew he couldn’t be interested in me. I definitely knew it. And yet, I let the wool be pulled over my eyes so easily. I fell for all of it—the gifts, him constantly feeding me, the listening to every word I said, the showing up at my house to charm the pants off every living relative of mine. Except my dad. He knew better the whole time. That’s it. From now on, I’m letting my father make all my decisions for me. Well, personal ones, anyway. Obviously, I’m killing it professionally. I just made what is likely going to be the greatest advancement in SETI research history. Me, Allie Cammareri. So, suck on that, Hudson and Lando. And screw love. Screw it. Not worth it.

Yes, forget men forever. From now on, I’m going to focus all my energy and attention on my job. My job has never let me down. Really, this is for the best. It’s not like someone with my potential should split her attention between her job and a man. Being in love is just a huge waste of time. Just think of what I can accomplish if I stay single.

We crowd into the server room, and I’m on alert, in case one of the kids tries putting their sticky little fingers on one of the computers. They always do that. Every single time. Except, apparently not today. Today, they’re all fascinated while Hudson the Hoodwinker explains how the computers in this room are receiving signals from radio telescopes from all over the planet. He smiles at me and says, “Have I missed anything yet, Dr. Cammareri?”

“Nope, you seem to have covered it all.” Dammit. He has too, when a very petty part of me wants him to fail.

“Excellent,” he says. “Remember kids, if you have questions about anything, she’s the expert. I’m just going to play one in a movie.”

Oh, stop sucking up. There is literally no possible way I’m falling for your act again.

“Wicked!” one of the boys says. “Is it going to be like Guardians of the Galaxy?”

“No,” he says. “It’s set on Earth and it’s about a scientist like Dr. Cammareri here.”

The boy’s shoulders drop. “Oh. Sounds boring.”

Mrs. Brutain makes a tsking sound. “Braxton, that’s not nice.” She turns to Hudson, batting her eyelashes at him. “I’m sure it’s going to be a thrilling movie.”

Blech. I’m glad we’re done. Who would want to put up with women hitting on your man all the time? Not this lady. No siree. No thank you.

Hudson leads the kids back out into the hallway, calling, “Who wants some freeze-dried ice cream?”

They all cheer while I stomp along behind them trying not to scowl or shout at them not to let the smooth-talking, womanizing, very bad man fool them. Because oh my God, does it ever hurt.