Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
I don’t need Jess’s nerdy math skills to know that 38.6 percent of the vote is millions of people. Millions of people who want Connor to be with me. But the only two that matter are sitting together on the couch. I look at him; his smile hovers somewhere between shy, smug, and completely overwhelmed.
I lean in, which only makes the uproar around us intensify. “Did you know about this?”
Connor lifts a single shoulder, his smile widening, and my heart swells, way too big in my body.
“All right, all right,” Lanelle says, trying to get the show back on track. “But the real question is still in front of us: Did the audience—that’s all of you—predict which of these Heroes is Fizzy’s soulmate, as determined by the DNADuo?”
She goes in order of elimination. Surprising no one, Tex is a Base Match. However, Arjun turns out to be Silver. Jude and Colby are Base; Nick and Dax are both Silver. Sadly, Evan is a Base Match, but the audience vibrates, knowing what that means: Isaac is my Gold Match. With 41.2 percent voting for him, the audience got it right.
Lanelle confirms it; confetti blasts from hidden cannons in the stage. The bulbs on the retro logo flash and cycle in time with music; a cacophony of small, glittery fireworks goes off behind us. The camera zooms in on Isaac, whose handsome face appears on-screen. He throws his arms up in the air, waves at the audience, hams it up, and trades high fives and handshakes with the other Heroes. I stand up and give him a big hug. Even Connor is applauding.
But amid all the celebratory chaos, more questions linger.
Did Connor do the DNADuo, too? Do they have our score?
The audience settles and an anticipatory hum fills the theater. We all take our seats again, and Lanelle turns to me and Connor on the couch. “You’ve probably guessed there’s one more thing we need to discuss: Connor also submitted a sample for the DNADuo.”
My heart feels like it’s going to jackhammer its way out of my body. “I suspected that might be where this was heading.”
“So here we are,” she says with a small smile. “The moment of truth. How are you feeling?”
The answer is simple, and I direct it to Connor: “I don’t care what it is.”
“I don’t, either.” But then he grins.
“Do you know what it is?”
He nods.
“Do I want to know?”
The audience laughs.
“I can’t tell you that,” he says. “It’s up to you, sweet.” Connor takes my hand, setting it back on his thigh. “I certainly won’t force you to find out on live television.”
The audience protests vehemently, and I know that even if he doesn’t force me to, I have to. I’m not a dummy. If I leave this a mystery, I’ll get shivved in the alleyway behind the studio.
“What if it’s low?” I ask.
Connor reaches out and strokes a thumb across my cheekbone. He smiles, seeing only me in this enormous theater full of people, and in every grand gesture or emotional climax I’ve ever written, this is the expression I was going for. Being looked at this way is so much better in reality. “A smart woman explained to me that you’re many thousands of times more likely to find your soulmate with a Base Match than ever get a Diamond Match.”
It sinks in that this means he talked it out with Jess, that he went to her for context, or simply for reassurance, and I feel lit up like a flare inside.
My mind races through my last list of DNADuo matches, and how certain I was that knowing the scores would influence how I felt. But even if Lanelle told me we had the first zero in history, I would still choose Connor tonight and every night for the rest of time.
“Honestly, I’d be okay with anything as long as I have you.”
“You have me.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out the envelope. “You want to find out?”
I take the envelope with a hand that shakes like a feather in a hurricane.
Connor swallows, saying quietly—and very ardently, “No matter what it says, please know that I love you madly.”
And then, accompanied by the wild screams of the crowd, he leans in and sets his mouth on mine.
It is a kiss that starts small, mindful of the fact that we are on television, sharing this moment with millions. But a cocktail of emotion rises in me—infatuation, relief, elation, and desire—and I can’t help the way my hand rises to his neck, the way my mouth softens against the full bow of his upper lip, the delectable swell of his lower lip, the curved, amused corner. Without question, it will be clear to everyone watching that we have done this before.
As soon as our eyes open, a blast of a smile takes over my face. “I love you, too.”