Chapter 43 Garrick
Garrick
Today’s our last day of filming and the moment I’m supposed to make my final choice.
I never thought I’d be madly in love with the person I’m going to choose.
So I’m not shocked that’s precisely the situation I find myself in.
But I did think I would at least like the girl.
I know this is a dating show for teens, and there’s no proposal at the end – thank god – but the audience is supposed to think we matched.
That’s the whole point of the Beeloved app and the reason this wild scenario came into being.
Don’t get me wrong, the two girls left are great.
Even though Desiree is clearly over-the-top and tried to blackmail me, she’s good at heart.
Ellie is above and beyond the fan favorite going into the final.
Still, we’re better suited to making content together than in an actual relationship, which she’s agreed with me in private.
Despite no contractual agreement needing to be made at the end of this, I still feel bad picking someone I don’t want a romantic relationship with.
Even if we are all on the same page about this story’s ending – it feels like I’m lying to the world.
I didn’t think I wanted a romantic relationship with anyone. Not until I met Juliet.
Since unearthing our time capsule yesterday, I’ve been theorizing how I can win her back – thinking through all those grand gestures made at the end of romcoms to show you’ve learned your lesson.
Honestly, Juliet would hate it, which is why I want to do it.
Just to see that little annoyed line between her brows when she’s pretending she doesn’t actually love it.
But I was a jerk. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to see me again – no matter the size of my apology.
Filming is due to start in about an hour, and I am supposed to be getting ready, but I’ve got more important things to worry about.
I snuck over to my house to get some breakfast, hoping that would keep me from running into anyone from production, but as I took the far-side walkway round the back of the apartments, I bumped into – not the worst people I could run into, but high up there.
‘Hey, guys.’ I offer a wave to Nathan and Melika, the weak morning sun keeping us in shadow on this side of the building.
My bright smile drops the instant I see their icy expressions.
‘Right, can I explain?’ A flush creeps up the back of my neck, making the tips of my ears burn, which are thankfully covered by my hat.
Nathan crosses his arms, jaw tight. My excitable roommate is gone, replaced by a stone-cold statue. ‘I don’t think there’s anything to say.’
‘You were an ass to our best friend,’ Melika adds, to my already heavy shame. Giving me a disgusted shake of their heads, they turn, walking away.
‘Wait,’ I call, shoes scuffing on the cement as I dart to get ahead of them. I hold my hands up in surrender. ‘That accusation is true. I admit. But I want to fix it.’
They share a skeptical look.
‘I know Juliet probably hates me right now, and as the loyal friends that you are, you despise me by association. Which is also fair enough. I don’t think too highly of myself right now either.
’ I’m talking at a million miles an hour, misty air puffing between us as I get out my logic before they bolt.
‘But I have a plan – well, not a plan plan, but I’m working on it.
So, if I’m going to win back Juliet, I could use your help. ’
Melika clears her throat. ‘Well, when that plan plan becomes something worth talking about, you know where to find us.’
That went about as smoothly as it could have gone. When I decide what plan to execute, having them help on the Juliet side of things will be handy. I jog back to my apartment and lock myself in my room. The clock ticking down to when I’m due on camera again is like a bomb ready to explode.
‘Garrick, you need to get out here,’ Tristian calls to me from the living room thirty minutes later. ‘You’re supposed to be getting ready for the final elimination.’
Time’s up.
‘I know.’ But I don’t move. I need a little bit longer to work through my plan.
I pulled a Ripley and made a list of all the possible things I could do to win her back.
Maybe I’ll just give her this. I know how much she loves a checklist, and it would be a lot easier than implementing my rather elaborate plans – but go big or go home, right?
I want to make this something she’ll remember forever.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to block out the memory of abandoning her in that hospital room, but I’m going to try.
Tristian stands from the couch when I come out of my room. ‘Finally. Ready to go?’
‘No.’ I drop my list on the dining-room table. I squeeze my hands into fists, shaking out the nervous energy as they dangle at my side. ‘First, I need your help coming up with an idea for a grand gesture to win back Juliet. So, sit and relax as I dazzle and amaze with my impressive suggestions.’
‘Great.’ He pinches the bridge of his nose.
I glance at my phone. ‘Only, give me two seconds before I do it.’ We stand in silence, Tristian trying to read my mind, until there’s a knock on the door a minute later. I swing it open – a burst of frigid air pouring in as Tyrone walks inside.
‘All right, I’m here for operation Romeo and Juliet.’ His knitted green scarf almost hides his wide grin. ‘What do I need to do?’ Everyone needs a friend like Tyrone: minimal questions and maximum effort.
I sit Tristian and Tyrone on the couch and flip open my notebook. I got it for the start of school, but I’ve never cracked the spine. Today, however, feels like the perfect time to break it in.
My heart beats erratically, and I roll my shoulders to focus my attention.
‘As you know, I need to win back Juliet. I was a jerk – we don’t need to go into it.
So, now I need to find a way to tell her how I feel.
I want it to be big, top-level romantic.
Here’s what I got.’ I tap my finger against the paper as I read the bullet points.
‘Number one: rent a helicopter and fly a banner across the sky, saying SORRY, I MESSED UP.’ I pause to gauge their faces for a reaction. Both are playing hardball because I don’t get much. It can’t be that my idea sucks – because it’s incredible.
‘Sounds expensive,’ Tristian says. ‘Did you look into the logistics of these ideas?’
‘Tristian, please,’ I scoff. ‘You obviously know I didn’t.’
‘And since it’s January, who knows if it will be stormy. Could ruin the whole thing,’ Tyrone adds. ‘But I like the direction this is taking. What’s next?’
‘Two: I get Jin to bake a massive cake – I’m talking twenty, thirty layers with heaps of buttercream frosting and decorations.
Then I jump out of it holding an “I’m sorry” sign.
’ I decide to keep going and get all the ideas out before they have time to rain on my parade.
‘Three: I get people at the football, baseball or basketball game – whatever, the sport isn’t important – to paint themselves with the letters spelling out “Forgive me, Juliet”.
Then have it broadcast on a jumbo screen.
Four is an old-school method. I get a speaker and hold it up to her window, playing that song that speaks to how much I miss her and can’t possibly go on without her.
TBD on the song choice.’ I point to Tyrone. ‘I’m assuming you can help with that.’
He nods slowly but doesn’t commit.
I’m halfway through my list and I’m not seeing the reaction I was hoping for, which doesn’t bode well for how Juliet will react. I press the notebook into my chest and glare at them. ‘Will you two just spill what you’re thinking?’
Tristian rubs the side of his face, glancing at Tyrone before he speaks. ‘I don’t know, G, it just seems like it’s too much. Why don’t you just tell her how you feel and that you were a complete idiot for letting her go?’
I furrow my brow. ‘Weren’t you the one who had a grand gesture, at an airport of all places, from Imogen?’
There’s that stupid, goofy grin on his face again whenever I mention Imogen. It tugs at my gut because I want that with Juliet. ‘Yeah, but it wasn’t the grand gesture that made me forgive her. It was her finally being honest with me and me with her.’
I ignore my lovestruck brother, who probably has good advice, and turn to Tyrone. ‘Any more comments from the peanut gallery?’
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘Well, if I’m picking from your ideas, I have to say I’m partial to the giant cake. But if I’m allowed to go off the page, I think I have a better idea.’
I match his cheeky grin.