by Annette Lyon
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Lost Without You - Sample Chapter
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Copyright Notice
The Ultimate Bachelor Challenge
By Annette Lyon
Chapter One
“We’ll head over to the cafeteria for breakfast at nine,” Sam said to the four of her roommates who were gathered in their apartment’s common room. She opened her bullet journal to the page where she’d planned the annual Valentine’s Day marathon, to take place all day tomorrow. “Don’t worry about showering and putting yourself together for the day. Just roll out of bed. Half the fun is walking to the cafeteria in pajamas and then hanging out here all day, swooning over the heroes in the movies we pick.”
Beth hugged a throw pillow. “Could we start earlier than nine?”
Oh, how little she knew. Sam had lived through many Valentine’s Day marathons and had honed the event year by year until it was practically an art form. After tomorrow, Beth would never again look at the holiday the same.
Sam adjusted her position on the couch, excited to explain. “See, we need our sleep if we’re going to do the marathon right. Sure, we’ll be sitting around all day, but that’s surprisingly tiring if you’re not well rested. So, everyone, set your alarms for five minutes to nine. That’s when we roll out of bed, shove our slippers on, and go eat. We’ll need a decent breakfast, or we’ll start flagging around one or two in the afternoon, and that would be unfortunate.”
“Makes sense,” Beth said with a nod. She began playing with the pillow’s fringe.
Sam consulted her planning page. “Okay, start thinking about what you’ll provide for treats. Here’s a sign-up sheet so you can see what others are bringing. We want variety. And remember, we’re not stopping for lunch.”
Tara took the paper and clipboard from Sam’s outstretched hand. “I already bought chips and salsa,” she said, writing that down.
A scoff from MollyAnne came from the love seat. “As if we’re trying to be healthy.”
“Oh no, no, no,” Tara said, shaking her head. “It’s not that.” She handed the clipboard to Beth, who rested it on the pillow in her lap.
For their freshman and sophomore years, Sam, Tara, and Alyssa had roomed together. Sam had taught them the principles behind her traditional marathon, and the two of them were now almost as good at evangelizing the event as its founder. Sam first held a Valentine’s Day marathon in high school when she didn’t have a boyfriend or even a date, and the tradition had carried into college. This year, Alyssa wasn’t at the planning meeting, and she wouldn’t be attending, either. She now had a fiancé, so she’d be spending the day with him.
“Just listen to Tara,” Sam said. “Trust me; we aren’t trying to be healthy.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, Tara explained. “If you eat nothing but sugar, you’ll get sick of it, stop eating, and end up with a headache. You need something salty or savory to break up the sugar. That’s how Sam and I eat those massive sundaes at the creamery — we alternate eating ice cream and caramel with fries.”
“Which we add extra salt to,” Sam said.
“Oh ... Wow...” Whitney said, her first contribution to the conversation. “I always wondered why you ordered fries with sundaes.”
MollyAnne’s mouth opened slightly as if she hadn’t realized she was in the presence of Olympic-caliber junk foodies. “Okay, I think understand. The savory-sweet thing is why we’re ordering pizza for dinner, right?”
“In part, yes,” Sam said. “Also because once the marathon starts, we don’t stop except for bathroom breaks between shows.”
“And without an official lunch, we’ll need dinner,” Tara added. “So we may as well have it brought to us, right?” She held out a hand, knuckles out. She bumped fists with Sam, who then made a big show of sighing.
“I have one piece of sad news, though,” she said, pretending to study the journal page. Instead, she was doodling flowers and hearts to hide the excitement building inside her. “I will probably miss dinner.” She bit the corner of one lip as heat spread up her neck and into her face until her face had probably gone as pink as cotton candy.
A chorus of “What?” and “Why?” came from MollyAnne, Beth, and Whitney.
“Um...” Sam hedged. Nothing was official, but all signs pointed one direction. And she didn’t want to suddenly disappear if, well...
Tara took over the explanation. “There’s a good chance that Sam...” She dragged out the words to increase the suspense. “...may soon be in Alyssa’s shoes.”
“What? Engaged? That’s fantastic!” Whitney squealed.
“Congratulations!” Beth and MollyAnne said at the same time.
The roommates hopped off the couches, love seat, and floor, and group hugged as they congratulated Sam. She encouraged them to sit down again, and hedged. “Thanks — really. But it’s not official. Steve—”
“He’s in town?” Whitney interrupted.
“Maybe,” Tara said.
“I don’t know anything for sure,” Sam said. Forget cotton candy. Sam’s face had to look more like a fire engine. “Steve said he couldn’t fly back for a visit until April, but earlier today, he texted saying that he needed to talk about something important that has to do with Valentine’s Day...” She shrugged. “He could be planning a surprise visit, but I don’t dare get my hopes up that the theater company would give him that much time off.”
Steve was performing with the Royal Shakespeare Company in London for a year, so he and Sam maintained their relationship as best they could over the phone and through email. Christmas break was the only time she’d seen him since he’d left in August. But so far, they’d made it as a long-distance couple. One semester was behind them, and this one was well underway.
Because of the time difference, they usually texted and Snapchatted, but he’d seemed awfully determined about calling and actually talking to her on Valentine’s Day. Maybe he’d found a way to visit, even if just for the weekend. And the important thing to discuss? It didn’t take a mathematician to figure out what that might mean, and she was a math major.
She’d be more than happy to miss part of the marathon and pass the hostess torch to Tara if it meant receiving an engagement ring. Sam settled into her spot on the couch, her notebook in hand. “I don’t know when he’ll be calling, or anything else for sure. Let’s plan the day as if I’ll be here the whole time. And if I end up leaving early, you’ll know why.”
Squeals of excitement rippled through the room again. Sam let her friends’ happiness wash over her and her beating heart. Being apart from Steve had been harder than she’d expected, but it would be over soon. And it’ll all be worth it.
“Back to business,” she said with her most authoritative voice. “Let’s talk movies.”
Tara clasped her hands. “Jane Austen is a must. The question is which one?”
“How is that even a question?” Beth said. “Pride and Prejudice screams ‘Valentine’s Day.’ I mean seriously. We can’t not watch it.”
“But we watched it last year,” Tara countered.
“Because it’s a classic,” Beth said. “And I wasn’t here.”
MollyAnne groaned. “Can we watch one of the shorter versions? I don’t want six hours taken up by one movie. How about the Kiera Knightley one?”
<
br /> “You can’t be serious.” Whitney’s look of utter disbelief and disdain suggested that MollyAnne had spoken blasphemy.
Sam sat there with her notebook, smiling at how emphatic her friends were about their movies. Smart women with strong opinions who were all romantics at heart. That’s what the marathon was all about.
Tara raised both hands as if trying to broker a peace. “Let’s leave Pride and Prejudice as a big maybe, okay? Remember, there are other Jane Austen movies — Emma, Persuasion, Sense and Sensibility. Besides, we’ll have all day and all night. Maybe we can do more than one Austen.” The others relaxed a bit, murmur some level of acceptance for tabling a final decision. Tara turned to Beth. “Just remember that we could watch two or three movies in the time it would take to watch Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth.”
“Exactly,” Whitney said. “Like She’s the Man or 10 Things I Hate About You. Those are Shakespeare adaptations—”
“But six hours of Colin Firth!” Beth interjected desperately, ignoring Whitney’s English major Shakespeare plea.
“Five hours,” Sam with a laugh as she made notes. “And he’s not in all of it.”
“The A&E version has six episodes,” Beth retorted.
“That are each fifty minutes long,” Sam explained. “Which makes the whole movie five hours, not six.”
MollyAnne lifted an eyebrow at Beth. “I’d think a Colin-Firth-as-Mister-Darcy aficionado would know that.”
Beth harrumphed and slouched on the couch, joining Whitney with her arms folded in protest.
Sam jotted down more notes. “I’m including the other Austens that Tara mentioned, plus the two Shakespeare adaptations for you, Whitney. Remember, none of this is final yet. I have to point out, though, that Heath Ledger is in 10 Things I Hate About You. Just saying.”
“If we’re talking Heath Ledger, let’s add A Knight’s Tale,” Beth said. “Oh, and Can’t Buy Me Love. But that’s Patrick Dempsey.” She grinned.
“Nice,” Whitney said. “Sam, add Serendipity.”
Suggestions continued to fly at Sam as fast as she could write. They’d never watch the entire list, of course, but recording everyone’s suggestions was the first step in planning the marathon. The list provided backup ideas, which often proved necessary, as preferences inevitably shifted. Sam didn’t worry about tonight’s disagreements causing problems tomorrow. She’d seen plenty of marathons come and go, and somehow, almost like magic, whenever it was time to start a new movie, everyone could agree on what to watch next.
“You’ve Got Mail,” Tara said suddenly. “I haven’t seen that in forever. And that other one with Tom Hanks. Written by the same woman. Shoot. What was it?”
“I should remember,” Sam said. “It’s one of my parents’ favorites. I’ll check IMDB.” She reached for her phone on the couch’s armrest, but instead of launching the app, noticed an unread message. “Steve texted,” she said quietly.
“What does it say?” Tara asked, scooting closer.
With a laugh, Sam pulled the phone out of view from the others. “Let me read it first.”
I have something to tell you. And something to ask you. Can we connect in the morning, say around nine? I need to see your face.
Good thing she was already sitting; Sam nearly passed out before remembering to breathe. He might not be coming. He could just want to FaceTime from London.
“What is it?” MollyAnne said.
“Tell us,” Beth added.
“Come on,” Whitney said, not to be left out of the conversation.
“He has something to tell me. And something to...” Sam swallowed and licked her lips. “Something to ask me.”
She waited out the exclamations of excitement before looking up from her phone and going on. “He wants to see me in the morning at nine.” Hearing the words leave her mouth, she felt blood drain from her face. “Holy crap. I can’t do breakfast in pajamas. I have to be showered and looking hot by nine. And I haven’t done laundry in a week. What was I thinking? I don’t have anything to wear.” Sam stood and paced the small room from the door to the kitchenette and back again, gripping her phone for dear life.
“You were purposely not getting your hopes up,” Tara said. “Remember?”
“Right,” Sam said, combing her hair with her free hand.
Tara went on. “You said that if your washed your favorite outfits, you’d jinx Valentine’s, and he wouldn’t come for sure.”
“I’m an idiot,” Sam said. “Now I have nothing cute to wear.” She paced some more, thinking aloud to process her thoughts and make an alternate plan. The marathon had flown right out of her head. “I have to do laundry — now. I’ll wear my red maxi skirt with that top you gave me, Tara. They look so good together. I need to wash both. And my good bra. I hope there’s enough time for it to air dry...” The corner of her thumbnail slipped between her teeth, and she gnawed it — an old habit from childhood that returned whenever she felt nervous. Except that when she was three, the habit was sucking her thumb instead.
Tara stood and reached for Sam’s shoulders, stopping her frenetic pacing. Tara nodded toward Sam’s bullet journal, which lay abandoned on the couch. “I’ll finish marathon prep. You’ve taught me well, Master Jedi. As your Padawan, I’ll make you proud. I’ll even remember to play Wynn Rock’s YouTube channel between movies.”
“Excellent,” Beth said. “That way, we’ll still have eye candy on the screen.”
“And it’ll be a hot guy who’s real,” Whitney filled in. “Not some character from a movie.”
“And someone we already know is a decent human being,” MollyAnne finished.
They’d essentially recited Sam’s top reasons for keeping Wynn Rock videos playing in the background as she did dishes and homework. She must have seen each of the videos a hundred times, sometimes watching, always listening to Conner Wynn, whether he was on an outdoor adventure or giving an impassioned opinion on conserving nature, saving energy, or helping a charity. He really was the kind of person the world could use more of. Plus, as her friends had said, he was awfully easy on the eyes.
Sam dropped her hand and looked around the room. “You guys won’t hate me if I skip out on you tomorrow? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone with Steve. I could miss the entire—”
“What is there to be mad about?” Beth asked, talking over her. “Getting proposed to? Spending time with your fiancé, who has been out of the country for the better part of the last six months? Are you kidding? Of course we won’t be mad!”
Whitney made a shooing gesture with both hands. “Go. We’ll be fine. Remember, we have Tara to take care of us, and you’ve trained her well.”
MollyAnne leaned forward, chin resting on her palm. “But we do expect to hear every little detail after the fact, or that will make us mad. Deal?”
An un-containable grin spread across Sam’s face. “Deal,” she said. “You guys, I can’t even...”
“Go!” they all said.
“Okay, I’ll start a couple of loads of laundry in the basement. I won’t be gone long. We can keep planning in just a few minutes.”
Tara physically dragged her into their shared room, where they stuffed Sam’s laundry bag with the essentials — her red maxi skirt, along with any other darks she could find to wash with it. After all, she couldn’t very well wash just her skirt in a full load; that was wasteful of water, detergent, and electricity. She’d never be able to look Conner Wynn in the face again — or, she supposed, the screen. After adding some of Tara’s jeans and Sam’s blue Harvest Valley University sweatshirt into the top, the mesh bag ended up rather full. A quick look in her dresser drawer, however, produced two quarters. She’d totally forgotten to pick up another roll.
“Here,” Tara said, placing a full roll of quarters into her hand. “Pay me back later.”
“You’re the best.” Sam gave Tara a quick hug and grabbed her room key, but before she could leave, MollyAnne appeared in the bedroom door.
“Bad
news, ladies.” She held out a piece of paper. “Katie just dropped this off.”
What was their RA doing passing out fliers an hour before midnight? Tara took the paper and groaned, holding it out to Sam.
Laundry room is closed for the weekend due to a frozen pipe bursting. Sorry for the inconvenience. Use the laundromat on Acorn Street until further notice.
Sam slumped onto the end of her bed. “Now what?”
“You go to the laundromat on Acorn,” Tara said. She held the paper over her shoulder for MollyAnne to take.
“I think you’re forgetting a few small details,” Sam said. “Acorn is four blocks away. It’s winter. It’s late. And I don’t have a functional car.”
“So?”
“So I can’t walk dark, icy city streets by myself at this hour.” Sam hoped to have enough money saved in another month to either pay for a new transmission on her old beater car or buy a new-to-her used car. Until then...
Tara went to her desk and returned a second later with something she clapped into Sam’s hand — car keys. “Take mine.”
Sam’s fingers curved around both the keys and the roll of quarters. Her eyes grew misty. As excited as she was to be with Steve, she’d miss rooming with Tara. She stepped forward and gave her a big hug. “You’re the best, you know that?”
“Pretty much,” Tara said, chuckling. She pulled away, looking a little emotional too. “I learned from the actual best, though.” She tilted her head toward the door. “Now go wash that skirt.”
Chapter Two
Connor checked his phone yet again. Midnight was fast approaching, which meant that his social media rival, Trevor Knowles, would be posting the first challenge in his latest attempt to crown himself king of YouTube and Instagram.
For six months now, Connor had sidestepped Trevor’s attempts at driving competition between them. They didn’t have that much overlap in audience anyway. Connor made a comfortable living; he didn’t need to stroke his own ego by beating an arrogant chauvinist like Trevor Knowles. The guy dedicated his feed to showing what a great bachelor life he had: showing off his washboard abs, trips to sunny beaches, and more women — “babes” in Trevor-speak — than he knew what to do with.
