Chapter 17
17
Sybil
I smacked my palms down on the steering wheel as I was forced to circle the block for a third time. My confidence in my ability to find the address was waning, and Siri kept guiding me to a gas station. I’d ended up on the wrong side of town in a suburb, with only ten minutes to get back across town to the studio for our interview. Kieran had texted three times, but while making U-turns and cursing at other drivers for not being in the same hurry I was, I hadn’t been able to message him back. “Damn it, damn it, damn it,” I said, going up the same street again, trying to find what I thought would be an easily identifiable building. My little Honda Civic, the one I’d been driving since high school, was holding on, but it would be just my luck if it crapped out on the street in front of the building I couldn’t find. Letting out a frustrated growl in my car solved nothing, but it felt good, so I did it again.
The phone screen illuminated with a text on the seat next to me, since my car was too old and broken to have anything like Bluetooth connections.
Kieran: Is that you driving up and down the street?
“Yes! How to do I get to the damn entrance?” I yelled into the car, figuring out too late he couldn’t actually hear me, but he texted again right after.
Kieran: Go left at the stop sign, then an immediate left into the lot.
I slammed on the brakes as that stop sign came up a little faster than I was expecting. Sure enough, Kieran stood—well, more like paced—at the corner, glancing at his watch and then at me before pacing again. He knew which car was mine after watching me cruise up and down the street for ten minutes. Plus, I waved at him, but he looked at his watch again instead of directly at me.
“Sorry,” I called out, hustling across the lot. “I overslept and then got lost and then I couldn’t find the building.”
“We’re fifteen minutes late,” he said flatly.
“I know.” I channeled positive energy, despite being exhausted after we’d studied until midnight. “But I’m here. It’ll be fine.”
He muttered something under his breath, and I bristled. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m here now. What else can I do?”
“Leaving earlier might have been a start,” he replied curtly as we walked toward the building, his long strides forcing me to almost jog to keep up with him. The night before had had the possibility to be a fun, flirty, get-to-know-you session. In reality, it had been me asking question after question and getting short, clipped responses, making me wonder if he had a secret, sexy, fun twin whom I’d met that first night. Fake-dating the sexy twin might be easier.
“I said I’m sorry. What else can I do? I’m here now.”
“I hate being late,” he said, opening the door for me to walk in ahead of him.
An all-too-familiar guilt at letting someone down crept along my spine. I’d heard that tone of voice my whole life, the “do better” tone, but I’d tried to get out the door on time. I’d changed at the last minute because I thought if I wore a dress the color of the Joe’s Donuts logo, it might be catchier on camera, and maybe a good anecdote. The teal-colored dress was a close match, but I’d had to swing by my mom’s place to get it. “I just wanted to get my look right.”
“What did I expect?” he mumbled under his breath as we neared the receptionist.
I turned on my sweetest voice to greet the woman, ignoring the jab from my new boyfriend. “We’re running just a little behind to be on a segment about the lottery for Good Morning, Des Moines ?”
“They’re expecting you,” she said, returning my warmth and smile. Take that, Kieran. People like me. “Have a seat, and someone will be out to grab you shortly.”
We both crossed to a bright yellow couch, and I leaned close to Kieran so the receptionist couldn’t hear me. “What do you mean, ‘what did I expect’?”
“Running late, running from thing to thing, running out.” He glanced at his watch again, his body stiff. “It’s your whole vibe.”
“You don’t know my whole vibe yet,” I hissed, his point hitting far too close to home not to hurt, because maybe he did know me. “And you’re making me think your vibe is uptight asshole.”
His gaze flashed to mine, but we were in this now.
“We’re doing this to help your shop, so back off, okay?”
I held his stare and he didn’t look away, the moment reminiscent of a staring contest, except that I noticed the way his lip shifted. Against my will, I remembered the intensity of his kiss, the way those same lips had almost demanded I melt against him.
“Sybil and Kieran?” Our standoff was interrupted by a woman with a clipboard, and we both stood. I smoothed a hand down the front of my wrap dress, centering myself with a smile for the woman and an invisible middle finger to Kieran. “We’re about ready for you—follow me.”
We followed the production assistant through the hallways of the local news affiliate studio, and I tapped my fingers against my thigh, realizing too late I was supposed to be really into the guy next to me and maybe should have been holding his hand or something. One glance in his direction disabused me of that notion—Kieran looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Okay, you two. You’ll wait here in the greenroom, and I’ll come to get you a few minutes before your segment with Maria.” She pointed out the mini fridge in the room and flashed us a bright smile.
“Well, this should be fun. I’ve never been on the news for anything positive before,” I said, hoping to ease the tension, but Kieran sat at the edge of the seat, tapping the toes of his shoes on the tiled floor. “That was a joke,” I added.
He looked up, his brow pinched, like he hadn’t heard me. “What?”
“Never mind.” I sat on the other couch, avoiding eye contact. “It’s admittedly a little late to ask, but are you okay doing this?”
“I don’t think we should be lying like this on TV.”
“It’s not really different from when it was on social media,” I reasoned.
“It’s still a big deal.” His toe tapping grew faster, and I worried he might actually bolt. “Plus, we’re both pissed off with each other.”
“Are you pissed off?” I pressed my palm over his knee to stop the tapping.
“Yes, I’m pissed off. And I didn’t get any sleep worrying about how this would go.”
“Let’s do this so we can help your business and I can look like a responsible member of my family,” I hissed, hearing the click of heels on the tile signaling the return of the production assistant. “Just smile like you like me.”
“Fake smiles all around,” he said, stretching his mouth into a wide, distorted grin. “This is why we work so well together, right?”
I narrowed my eyes at him, then flashed my own wide grin. “It is why we work so well together. Aren’t you and the shop lucky to have me?”
“Okay, folks.” The assistant had pushed through the glass door and was now holding a clipboard. “You ready to share your love story with our viewers?”
“We’re ready,” I said, reaching out my hand for Kieran’s and hoping he’d take it. He let it hang there for a moment too long, and I worried the production assistant would see through it, but he finally took it in his, standing so close to me it was like he’d learned everything he knew about PDA from a pamphlet in a doctor’s waiting room. I whispered near Kieran’s ear, “You don’t think she heard us, do you?”
The studio was smaller than I expected, the set looking like a nicely appointed den with only two walls and a green screen for a view. The host, who the PA introduced as Maria, wore a gorgeous purple dress, and I admired the way it made her body look on the monitor as we watched the current segment finish up. I slid a hand over my hips and stomach to adjust my dress, imagining how I’d sit on camera.
“What are you doing?” Kieran’s voice was low in my ear as we stood side by side, watching the current guest talk about an upcoming fundraiser for a youth basketball program.
“Just figuring out how to sit so I look okay on camera,” I said, angling left as I imagined I might when it was our turn. “Don’t worry, it won’t keep me from being on time to walk across the room,” I added, needing him to know he’d crossed me.
“You’ll look fine on camera,” he said gruffly. “You always look good.”
I stared at his profile, waiting for this man to realize he had just paid me a compliment in the middle of a fight, but he was intently watching the cameras ahead of us like they might burst into flames at any moment.
“Thank you.” I slid a palm over my stomach, but this time because of nerves, as the former segment wrapped up and they went to commercial while we swapped places. The PA fitted us both with microphones and guided us to the couch opposite Maria, who greeted us warmly before conferring with the PA.
Kieran’s toe was still tapping incessantly, and I thought about crashing my heel down on top of it but reached for his hand instead, squeezing a little too hard. “It’ll be fine. Stop looking so nervous,” I whispered in his ear, cognizant of the microphones clipped to our chests.
“You were the one thinking through how to sit.”
I flashed him a smile that loosely translated to “I know where you live” and squeezed his hand forcefully.
“Aren’t you two sweet!” the host exclaimed. “We’ll show a clip of the video, I’ll introduce you, and then we’ll have a little Q and A, okay? You’ve made quite the splash the last few days!”
Kieran squeezed my hand back, and I smiled and nodded to the host, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“Welcome back. You may have met my next guest first on social media. Kieran Anderson, whose family owns Joe’s Donuts in the East Village, went viral when he tried to return a lost item to a customer. A winning lottery ticket.” The video from Instagram began to play, Kieran’s voice filling the studio.
“She had a great smile. She smiled a lot, and it was the kind of smile that made you…you know, made you want to smile, too. Like a sunny day. She made the shop feel brighter. She’s beautiful. I think that’s the best way to describe her. Really…beautiful.” Kieran’s hand relaxed slightly, and even though I’d watched the video a ton of times, it never stopped surprising me when he described me that way. “So, if you know a Sybil who fits that description…please have her come back to see me.”
“And as some of you know, she did come back to see him. Kieran and Sybil, we’re happy to have you on the show, and congratulations!”
“Thank you,” I said. “This whole thing has been a whirlwind.”
The host looked between us. “Sybil, what was it like seeing that video?”
I glanced at Kieran, who still looked nervous, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and my anger receded by a few centimeters. “It was surreal,” I said. “Obviously that my ticket was a winner is unbelievable, but also…” I waited for Kieran to meet my gaze before continuing. “I’d met this sweet, good-looking, funny guy one night, and then he was telling the world I was beautiful.” My face heated, even though I knew this wasn’t really a love story. “That’s the stuff of fairy tales or romance novels, right?”
Maria grinned. “Absolutely. And I guess the stuff of donut shops. Kieran, you returned a winning lottery ticket. Many might have kept it. What made you go looking for Sybil?”
I hadn’t realized Kieran was still looking at me until he turned to the host. “It was the right thing to do,” he said. “It was her ticket.”
“Anything else?” she prodded.
“And…well, like she said, we met in the shop. And I didn’t know if I’d see her again, but she’s…well, I said it in the video…”
She pressed her hand to her heart. “Like a sunny day?” She looked from us to the camera. “I hope some viewers are taking notes on how to describe a partner and make them and everyone else swoon at the same time.”
Kieran fidgeted but kept his expression unmoving. “I’m glad she came back to get the ticket.”
The host smiled at his follow-up, and I smiled, too. “And we’re glad you two are together now. What a great how-we-met story. Sybil, Kieran mentioned you didn’t share your name with him at first. Why is that?”
Kieran’s hand tightened around mine, and I glanced at his face, willing him to relax. “Honestly,” I said, looking back at the host, “I didn’t think he’d end up being someone important to me. I did what lots of people do, and I kept myself protected. Kept myself anonymous in a way. I’ve been burned before, and that makes you not trust it when you feel the spark.”
“And you experienced a spark when you met Kieran?”
I smoothed my fingertips over the skirt of my dress and remembered how his hands felt on me when there was a spark versus the grip of his hand when I wanted to wring his neck for being a judgmental jerk. I pasted on what I hoped was a convincing smile. “Absolutely.”
“And what about you, Kieran? You felt the spark immediately?”
He stiffened behind me, and I squeezed his hand hard after he’d been silent for half a second too long. “I’ve never believed in sparks,” he said, squeezing my hand back. “But it’s hard to ignore how you feel about someone like her. And, yeah, there was a spark.”
I sent a silent cheer of relief into the studio at his response and opened my mouth to move things on, but Kieran kept talking.
“I learn more about her every day,” he said. “Like that she likes running.”
Running late, running from thing to thing, running out. I squeezed his hand again, hard. “He’s so perceptive,” I said, wishing I had a quicker response.
“And we heard you’re working together! How wonderful. At the donut shop?”
Silence. The PA had heard us, but not the fight, just our stupid sniping about working well together. We both were frozen like we were muted as the host looked at us expectantly, and I realized it would be up to me to deftly field this one, but before I could speak, Kieran jumped in. “We’re short-staffed and she offered to help.”
He was going to push me in front of a bus for making him do this interview, I just knew it, so I didn’t look over my shoulder. “It’s a really wonderful place for the community and it’s important to him, so…I want to be there while I figure out my next steps.”
“Well, you two certainly are an adorable couple. We’re so glad you found each other, and it seems you can’t stay apart.”
“It’s hard not to just tackle him to the ground every time he speaks,” I said sweetly.
Kieran jumped in. “I think what she means is that since everything happened so fast, and our connection was so strong, it’s strange to be apart, or not touching.”
I normally raged when a man started a sentence with “I think what she means,” but he’d said it better. I smiled at him and then back at her. “Or not kissing.”
“We frown on tackling in this station, but don’t let me stand in the way of a kiss between two people fated to be together.” The host looked at us expectantly.
Oh shit. I hadn’t thought that one through, and Kieran and I hadn’t talked about PDA or kissing in public, let alone on television. He looked at me, eyes wide, and I returned the look, very aware we were on camera until his fingers slid to the back of my neck, his warm touch immediately distracting, and I shifted closer to him. I raised my eyebrows, and then his lips were on mine. I expected a soft peck, and I planned to return my attention to the host, making some joke about keeping things appropriate for all viewers. The spark at the tip of his tongue grazing my lower lip sent a shot of lightning through the core of me. The kiss lasted only a moment, and it must have looked family friendly, but it felt like something completely different.
“Well,” Maria said, looking at the camera as we pulled apart. “We love a good love story, and this one has a million reasons for you to keep an eye on this couple. Stop into Joe’s Donuts on Grand Avenue in the East Village to experience a little of this sweetness for yourself.”
The impression of Kieran’s kiss lingered on my lips, similar to the way his fingers lingered at my hairline, grazing as if he’d never touched me before and couldn’t quite bring himself to break the contact. In fifteen minutes, I’d gone from wanting to mow this man down with my car to wanting to pull him into my arms. I wondered if he felt anything close to that, too.