Chapter 1 - Callie #2
The look in Mabel’s eyes is one that I’m more than familiar with, and I immediately start shaking my head. “Oh no . . . no, no, no. I can already tell that whatever devious plan you’re concocting involves a man, and I’ve decided I’m allergic to those.”
“Oh, come on, not every man is a narcissistic douche canoe, Callie.”
“Well, I’m a fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me, kind of gal. And I do not want to be made into a fool, thank you very much. I’m officially done with dating. Gives me more time for the cats.”
“You don’t even have any cats.”
I hold up a finger. “ Yet. ”
Mabel squares her shoulders and levels me with a stare. “Who’s being stubborn now?”
“Call it stubbornness if you want. I’m calling it self-preservation. I’m not letting you set me up on some awkward blind date. Two hours in a restaurant, poking at a plate of overcooked salmon while some guy attempts to impress me? Hard pass.”
“Well, I wasn’t thinking of that, per se,” Mabel waggles her eyebrows. “I was thinking of something a little more creative.”
“Which immediately translates to us either being in jail or dead.”
“Stop, it’s nothing illegal or life-threatening.” She tilts her head and bats her eyelashes. “Come on, it could be really fun!”
I snort. “You said that two years ago when you signed us up for that Warrior Women Mud Run.”
“Oh, that was fun!”
“No, that was torture in the form of extreme exercise. I’m pretty sure my quads are still in revolt over that one. ”
Mabel props a hand on her hip. “Have I ever steered you wrong?”
I open my mouth to give a dozen examples, but she holds up a hand stopping me. “I mean when it really counted?”
“No.” The answer is automatic. Despite all the shenanigans we’ve managed to get into together over the years, Mabel is the one person in the world who has never let me down.
“Then, trust me. I think this could be really good for you. You wasted too many tears and too many years on Adam, the A-hole. You have to get back out there, Callie, and you might as well start now. So, what do you say?”
It’s an absolutely terrible idea, and my gut instinct is to vehemently refuse. It doesn’t matter that I’m getting a little sick of my own “drowning in the pit of despair” routine. History has shown me that love only brings pain. And I’m not sure I can handle that again.
So no, I don’t want to entertain whatever hare-brained scheme my cousin has concocted . . . but the hopeful look in her eyes definitely has me pausing.
I sigh. “I’m not agreeing to anything yet . . . but what exactly did you have in mind?”
Mabel squeals loudly and dashes over to the counter to grab her phone.
“It’s called a blind date shoot or a stranger session,” she explains, swiping at the screen.
“The photographer picks two people they think would have good chemistry, gets them together, and then captures the moment they meet on camera!” She points to a Pinterest board of saved photos.
“Look how cute these are! I’ve been wanting to do one of these for forever! ”
“A photoshoot?” I scroll through the images. The couples on the screen hardly look like strangers. I zero in on one pair who are wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing a passionate kiss. “These look like an engagement session or something.”
“That’s kind of the idea. The photographer poses the models like a couple, and if the chemistry be chemistry-ing, well, then the camera captures it all.”
It’s an interesting idea, and the photos are gorgeous, but imagining myself and some guy I don’t know pretending to be a couple and posing romantically sounds super awkward.
“I don’t know, Mabel. Maybe the overcooked salmon really is the way to go here. I mean, I’m like the world’s most boring human. I highly doubt pictures of me and Joe Random would turn out even half this cute.”
Mabel scoffs. “Then you seriously underestimate my skills.” She presses a hand to her chest in mock offense. “And besides, you’re also underestimating yourself. You’re a babe and one of the least boring people I know. You light up every room you walk into.”
“You know who they say that about? People who end up getting murdered by their blind dates. Do you seriously want me to end up on a true crime documentary?”
“See?” Mabel laughs. “How could anyone think you’re boring when you say funny stuff like that.”
“I don’t know . . . I mean, what if we don’t have any chemistry at all. What if this guy smells like hotdog water or something?”
“Do you have that little faith in me?” Mabel purses her lips. “I know you better than anyone. If anyone can find a new guy for you, it’s me, don’t you think? I promise he’s not gonna be some basement dweller who ‘puts the lotion on the skin’, okay? He’s gonna be great.”
“You say that like there are actual decent men in this town. You do remember I grew up here, right?”
She completely ignores that part. “I promise to make it a really great experience for you, and I’ll be there the whole time. I’ve seen photoshoots like this go viral—trust me, it’s not as weird as it sounds.”
And that right there settles it.
If there’s even the slightest chance this will help Mabel’s photography business, then that’s my answer.
Mabel has been my rock my entire life, and it’s time I return the favor.
I have zero interest in meeting anyone right now and even less interest in a relationship, but if her photos of me and Hotdog guy go viral, it could be a much-needed boost for her business.
I know that’s not why she’s asking me to do this, but I can see the potential, and that makes it really hard to say no.
And with my cousin looking at me like that, so hopeful and excited, I don’t want to.
So, with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, I nod. “ Okay, I’ll do it.”
Mabel squeals again and yanks at my arms, pulling me into a tight hug. “This is going to be amazing, you’ll see!”
“I sure hope so,” I deadpan. “Because if I end up on an episode of Dateline, you’ll be the first person I haunt.”
Mabel beams. “It’s a deal.”
“I guess I better go do battle with the 4Runner . . . ” I say with a sigh. “I’m gonna need those pants.”