Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Emerson
I’ve had three video chats with Twila in the last five days, and each time we talk, I like her a little bit more. Okay. A lot more.
And while actually liking her will make our “romance” that much more believable, it’s also dangerous.
Letting my heart run away with my head is a blueprint for heartbreak.
I keep reminding myself that this is nothing more than a business transaction, but it’s hard to keep that in mind when Twila is making me laugh.
Or even better, when she’s laughing at my jokes or taking the bait when I casually flirt with her.
It’s like we’re feeling each other out–– for real–– when there should be no feeling anything. Physical or emotional.
The problem is, attraction aside, I feel like Twila has become an actual friend to me. I care about her, and I get the sense that she feels the same. So, what’s going to happen when we meet in real life and have to pretend to be hot for each other?
Or, as the case may be, she’ll be pretending while I’m pretending to be pretending so she won’t freak out and call the whole thing off.
God, this is complicated.
But that meeting is at least a few weeks off, so I have time to get my head on straight before then. As for right now, I think it’s time to push this thing to the next level and confirm what everyone on BingBang already thinks they know.
People are starting to get frustrated in the comments at my evasiveness.
After I posted a video with a screenshot of our text message exchange, they’re frothing at the mouth to find out who “Daisy” really is––or at least the confirmation that she is, in fact, Twila Greene.
Most of them are convinced it’s her after a few clever people figured out all the hints I’ve left for them and posted videos highlighting the trail of breadcrumbs.
Making the decision, I initiate a video call with Twila, and she answers right away with a wide smile. No doubt because her own numbers have climbed radically since half the site is convinced she’s my Daisy. Or maybe she’s just happy to hear from me?
“Hey, you. What’s up?” she says when I don’t speak.
Locking down my wild imaginings, I clear my throat and say, “It’s time.”
She doesn’t need an explanation. She just nods.
“I agree.”
We’ve talked about our big reveal a few times, both of us throwing out ideas that we think will make the biggest bang.
I want to do something romantic, but Twila thinks it should be fun and catchy so that even viewers who aren’t already invested in my secret crush will stop and watch.
I think we’re both right, and I came up with an idea after the last time we talked.
“So, I’ve been thinking,” I say.
“Uh-oh,” she chimes in, making me laugh.
“I was thinking I could post a video with an old-timey love song. Something upbeat and swoony from the fifties or sixties, rather than something current,” I say.
She nods thoughtfully, her lips twisted into a half-frown. “Do you think that type of sound choice would mess up the algorithm?”
“It might since it’s not popular, but people are looking for videos from me because they’re waiting for the big reveal.”
She nods again, her eyes unfocused as she thinks.
Then she freezes and bites her lips, saying, “What about Say You Want Me by Hunter Lane? I know it’s country, but it’s become quite popular on BingBang over the last few weeks, and for a country song, it’s a bop.
And the lyrics actually fit our situation. ”
She’s right. That is a popular sound right now, and the lyrics talk about a man pining for a woman while never really knowing how she feels in return.
“You’re so fucking smart,” pops out of my mouth without a thought.
“I know,” she sing-songs, then laughs off the compliment. “So tell me about the video. What will the storyline be?”
“I was thinking I could give you a bouquet of flowers…daisies, of course.”
“Of course,” she says with a grin.
“I could look into the camera like I’m flirting with you, then hold the flowers out, moving forward until they block the frame. Then you could tack it like a transition. Hold a bouquet against your camera, then pull it back to reveal yourself as you smell them and smile.”
“That’s…perfect, actually,” she says, grinning widely. “Show me what you plan to wear and the flowers you’ll use. So I can find a similar bouquet.”
“I don’t have the flowers, yet,” I say, “but I’ll head out after we hang up and send you a pic as soon as I find some.”
I walk to my closet as I speak, pulling out the blue shirt it’s taken me two weeks to decide on for the reveal. It makes my eyes pop, looks good against my tan, and fits me in all the best ways.
“How about this?” I ask, careful to add a note of false indecision in my voice like I haven’t tried on every shirt in my closet before deciding on this one.
“That’s great,” she says, nodding. When I reverse the camera so she can see me again, she adds, “And I have a dress in that color I can wear in my part. Unless…you don’t think trying to match our clothes is too much, do you?”
The image of her bobbles as she walks over to her own closet and pulls out a blue sundress and holds the material against her chest. The color brings out the blue in her cyan eyes and looks great against her skin and dark hair.
“It’s perfect,” I murmur, inwardly flinching at my breathless tone. Clearing my throat, I add, “Definitely not too much.”
“Awesome,” she says. “What time do you think you’ll post the video?”
“I don’t know. Around three? My analytics show that as an optimal time for me to post. And it will give us both enough time to go out and find the flowers.”
“And I should post my tack right after? Like, within the hour?”
“Yeah. Sounds good,” I say.
“Sounds good,” she repeats with a grin. “I’m embarrassed at how excited I am for this.”
She lowers her voice on that last bit while the apples of her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. I feel the heat of her blush in my chest as I shake my head.
“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m excited, too. Like, ridiculously so.”
“You are?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, and she grins.
“Well, go on, then. Go find your daisies. I’ll head out, too. I have a couple of errands to run, anyway.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Emerson,” she says with a waggle of her fingers at the camera.
“Bye, Twila.”
My screen goes black as she ends the call. And, God, am I glad she did before I did something stupid like tell her how much I fucking like her. How my excitement has more to do with doing this with her, rather than what it’ll do for my reach on the app.
I can hide it, now. But what’s going to happen when we meet face-to-face?
I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. She’s going to know within hours––maybe even minutes––because there’s no filter on my face. I wear my emotions on my sleeve, and I’m not going to be able to hide them from her for long.
But I guess I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Because right, now, I have some flowers to buy.