The Friend Face Off

1. Emmy

CHAPTER 1

EMMY

@romcombook: I’ve been chatting about books on my BookTok account for the past year, and let me tell you, I’m a hopeless romantic. But the comments I get? Hilarious and a bit tragic. People are all, “Why isn’t my relationship like the ones in books?” or “Why am I still single?” And then they whip out their dream partner checklist:

I’m looking for:

a man in the NHL

trust fund

six-five

brown eyes.

Really? Do you think this guy exists or are you waiting for Santa to deliver him?

And don’t even get me started on the advice they’re given: “Dump him if he doesn’t tick all your boxes—there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Have you seen the other fish out there? Have you seen the sea? It’s more like a murky pond with a few confused goldfish.

Look, I hate to break it to you, but fictional men have set the bar impossibly high.

We can adore our book boyfriends, but real-life meet-cutes and grand gestures? They’re about as rare as unicorns.

A romance like in the books? Pure fantasy.

And the perfect man? He’s probably off playing hockey with Santa.

My thumb hovers over the post button. I’ll probably regret this later .

“Too harsh?” I hold up my phone to show my friend Neesha my latest rant on BookTok.

She takes my phone and reads it. “Are you ready for the hate mail?” Then she hands my phone back. “If you’re trying to alienate your audience, go right ahead. They want the perfect guy. You just dashed all their hopes, with your whole fictional men are too good to be true spiel.”

“But readers need to hear this,” I argue.

She pins me with a look. “Do they? Or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Neesha pulls out another book. “BookTok doesn’t want the truth, Emmy. They want fiction. That’s why we sell books.” She tosses a book at me before continuing to the mystery section inside Falling for Books, our quaint small-town bookstore with a cafe in the back where Neesha works. This job is my refuge from real life and I’m grateful for the income, even though it barely pays enough to support myself and my grandmother.

I brush a strand of hair back as I shelve a book. “I’m just venting over the perfect book boyfriends who make every other guy seem so...”

“Imperfect?” Neesha answers for me. “Kind of goes with the dating territory.”

“My problem isn’t dating. It’s the fact that men are written to such impossibly high standards. The BookTok community needs to recognize that.”

“I don’t think they care, Emmy. They just want their next book boyfriend.”

She’s not wrong. BookTok, a subcommunity on TikTok, has become a major cultural moment. Avid readers thrive on finding new books on the app and authors surge to unprecedented levels of fame if their books go viral. Its cult-like following has catapulted books to the New York Times bestseller lists and turned the publishing industry upside down.

Neesha hands me a brand-new children’s book for our donation box headed to the Happy Horizons Ranch, a children’s charity run by Angel Davis. Since many of the families they serve can’t afford it, we regularly donate our favorite picture books every month.

I open it and inhale the glorious scent of fresh paper and ink. New book smell is like crack for readers. If I wasn’t so underpaid, I’d totally start a fragrance line that smells like newly printed books.

“What is the offending book on TikTok this time?” Neesha asks, squinting to see my phone over our new display of gold-edged Jane Austen special editions.

“What do you mean, offending ?”

“Which book boyfriend is unfairly romantic?”

“The real question is which one isn’t ,” I reply. “That’s how romance novels roll, ever since Jane Austen gave us Mr. Darcy.” I snatch the best-selling hockey rom-com Perfectly Wedded from a nearby shelf and wave it at Neesha. “Exhibit A: Vale MacPherson. This guy marries his best friend so she can get insurance and then woos her with dreamy dates, kisses next to a waterfall, and a honeymoon in Mexico. Talk about setting the bar impossibly high.”

She flips it over and reads the blurb on the back. “No wonder it’s popular right now. A best friend who’s gorgeous and a hockey player? Sign me up!”

I don’t mention that it’s secretly my favorite, which is why I picked it for an upcoming book club meeting.

“Didn’t you just do a video about it that went viral?” Neesha asks, handing the book back to me.

I nod. “Yeah, and it sparked a firestorm of comments about the perfect man.”

Neesha’s the only one in the world who knows about my BookTok account, @romcombook, a place to sound off on all my favorite novels and tropes, but it turned into something so much bigger than I ever could have imagined.

There’s one rule about my account that I religiously follow: I don’t show my face on camera. It helps that I have a knack for creating pretty book shots with dreamy scenes of bookshelves and book stacks arranged with candles and flowers.

It’s like I have a secret identity, and I can say what I want with no one from Maple Falls finding out.

Neesha shakes her head. “I’d delete today’s post. It’s a rabbit hole.”

I scoff. “People like my honesty. It’s time to speak the truth about the grand gestures, the meet-cutes—it’s nothing like real life.”

Neesha turns to me with a mischievous grin. “I’d love to see someone change your mind.”

“Not going to happen.” I collect two more books and sniff the pages before placing them in the box.

“Book addict,” Neesha teases.

“A perk of the job.”

“Plus, all the novels to devour when the store is slow,” she adds, holding up a rom-com by a well-known author who’s been lauded for her romantic portrayal of brutish professional athletes.

“I have plenty of hockey in my life since my brother is coming home for the all-star charity games,” I say.

My brother Dan’s NHL hockey career has always overshadowed my meager aspirations to write a book. Dan’s always been the golden child in our family. Star athlete. Hometown hero. Dan the Man. I wouldn’t be surprised if they erected a statue of him in the town square.

In recent years, he played for the Chicago Blizzard, but a wrist injury forced him to take a break and return to Maple Falls this fall, playing for a five-game charity tournament, organized by local ice arena owner, Troy Hart. Professional players from across the country are descending on our little town in the next week. It’s the biggest thing that’s happened in Maple Falls in years, and Dan’s been the talk of the town.

Neesha slides over a colorful beach book currently featured on the end cap display. “Maybe you can find a hockey player while they’re in town.”

I frown at her. “Um, no, thank you.”

“What’s that look for? Have you dated a lot of hockey players?”

“No,” I blurt. “I’m not into jocks.”

Except for one—the friend Dan brought home in college. Dawson Hayes. Sharp cheekbones, a sexy beard, and dark eyes that seem to follow me everywhere. Broad-shouldered and hands big enough to easily circle my waist. If there was a definition for hockey hunk, his picture would be next to it.

Neesha’s lips curve into a smile. “Okay, so what if you joined a dating app?”

I lift an eyebrow. “You’re encouraging me to go out with a stranger from the internet? Do you know how many creeps are out there? No way. I don’t want to become the victim on a true crime podcast.”

Neesha shrugs. “Just put yourself out there and see if lightning strikes.”

“With my luck, lightning will strike me, ” I add, fixing the display at the front of the store. “Reading about fictional men is less risky.”

“But it’s making you a cynic,” she says.

“Better that than a tortured romantic,” I answer.

The bell on the door jingles, and Keira Johnson walks in, looking radiant with her blonde hair and dimples.

“Hey, Emmy,” she says, waving a copy of Wuthering Heights , a favorite of hers. “I’m meeting a friend in the cafe. You haven’t seen Dan yet, have you?”

“No. I didn’t think he was arriving until tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she says, looking disappointed. “Will you let me know when he gets in?”

“Will do. But I’ll probably be the last to know,” I add with a wry smile.

Even though he’s my brother, it’s not like he texts much. I guess that’s what happens when you become a famous hockey player.

Keira is Dan’s high school sweetheart, although they haven’t dated in ten years. Personally, I always rooted for Dan and Keira to end up together. She’s down to earth and fiercely loyal. If Dan had stayed here, they might have had a chance. But he couldn’t resist Yale’s hockey scholarship or the chance to play in the NHL. Like me, Keira stayed in Maple Falls and now runs the farmers’ market while helping her sister with her two kids. She’s one of the few people who understands the sacrifice of sticking around for the sake of family, just like I did. For that reason, I feel a connection to her, even if she is my brother’s ex.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. A TikTok notification pops up from someone named @GoldDog . I click on it. No profile picture other than a very cute golden retriever holding a puck in his mouth, which makes the dog look like he’s smiling.

A dog lover couldn’t be a bad person, right? I open the message.

Gold Dog

What’s your definition of the perfect man?

Who is this? I scroll through this stranger’s videos. A mixture of dogs, hockey clips, and motorcycles. Not a single one shows a face. Which means this person could range in age from twelve to ninety. The profile says, Dog lover. Hockey fan. Grandma’s favorite grandson.

He’s either fishing for dates or has perfected the I seem like a nice guy but I’m really a stalker schtick.

Romcom Book

I don’t know how to flirt online, but I can make things awkward if you’re into that?

P.S. You should change your profile pic if you’re trying to get a date.

My phone dings before I can put it down to count inventory.

Gold Dog

I’m NOT trying to get a date. It was an actual question, if you’re into that?

Romcom Book

No need to use all caps unless you’re screaming.

So only if I fall and text you, HELP, I’M DYING???

I smile, then reply:

Yes. But please don’t fall because I can’t help you. Also, I don’t talk to strangers on the internet.

Then you shouldn’t make blanket statements that invite strangers to message you.

It wasn’t a blanket invitation. My comment was for rom-com readers. Not your type.

How do you know what my type is? I happen to think Edward was perfect for Bella.

You read Twilight??

Not only did I read it, I liked it.

I laugh.

“What?” Neesha asks.

“Some dude responding to my video who told me he enjoyed Twilight and wants to know my definition of the perfect man.”

“Is he cute?” she asks with a smile.

“He has a picture of his dog on his account, so I don’t know. With my luck, he’s probably missing teeth and has a felony record.”

“You should ask him if he’s a criminal.”

I stare at her. “A felon with a golden retriever who’s Grandma’s favorite ?”

“People lie on the internet, Emmy. He could be a murderer living with twelve cats.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve been catfished before. He couldn’t track me down if he tried. I have no identifying information on my account.”

Romcom Book

I have to ask—are you a serial killer? I figured we should get this out in the open now.

Gold Dog

Is this how you always greet people?

Only strange men on the internet. To be fair, you seem nice and your dog is cute.

Maybe I’m the first nice serial killer you’ve ever met.

True. But then you’d need to rewrite your profile. “Serial killer who enjoys long walks on the beach and cuddly dogs.” (Very catchy!)

I’d probably get more dates that way.

You’re breaking my unfair stereotype of you, Gold Dog.

What stereotype is that? That men don’t read or serial killers aren’t nice?

I never said men don’t read.

No, you said the perfect man doesn’t exist. Which brings me back to my original question.

I should cut off this conversation. But then I glance at the book table, and there is Vale MacPherson, the main character from Perfectly Wedded. He’s an athlete and a romantic—the perfect blend of tough on the outside, sweet on the inside.

I snap a picture of the cover and send it to Gold Dog.

Gold Dog

You like cartoon men?

Romcom Book

Only way to find the perfect man is to create him from scratch.

What’s this book about?

I was going to say “not your type.” Then I remembered what happened last time I said that. It’s a hockey romcom.

Does it have any fight scenes?

Why would it have fight scenes?

Fighting is expected in hockey.

This isn’t really about hockey, Gold Dog. No murder or explosions either. You’d probably hate it.

Wait, are you the serial killer? Why would I hate it?

Most guys don’t read books about love.

Excuse me, I do.

Twilight doesn’t count.

What if I told you I was reading Pride and Prejudice?

Pictures or I don’t believe you!

He sends a picture of his hand holding a copy of Pride and Prejudice . A bookmark sticks out of the top. I text a clapping emoji.

Romcom Book

You’re the exception. Have you looked at my BookTok account? My audience is ninety-nine percent women and one percent creepy stalker men. Except you.

Gold Dog

Thank you for not assuming I comply with your extensively researched male stereotype.

You’re welcome!

Did you know it’s National Love People Day? I follow weird holidays.

Really? Why?

So I can pull out random fun facts when I don’t know what to say.

Does that mean there’s a National Hate People Day? Because that definitely seems like something a serial killer would enjoy.

It always comes back to serial killers with you, doesn’t it?

I send a laughing emoji back.

“He must be funny. You can’t stop smiling,” Neesha says with a gleam in her eyes.

“I showed him a picture of Perfectly Wedded . He asked me if there were fight scenes in a romance.”

Neesha snort-laughs. “I bet that book has more references to Vale’s muscles than his actual hockey skills.”

“He told me he’s reading Jane Austen and sent a picture that he probably stole from a stranger’s Instagram account.”

“Do you think he’ll read the book you recommended?” Neesha asks.

I shake my head. “It’s practically a test: ‘How to Lose a Guy in One Day.’ If he actually picks up the book and makes it to the first romantic scene, that’ll be the last I hear from him.”

Just like real life, right?