I’m not a cryer. Not at all. Not even a little bit. But I can’t help the tears that are forming in my eyes when I hear those words. I never expected them. I try to keep my composure, but it’s almost impossible. But then I realize that holding my breath, squeezing my face and trying not to cry makes you look ten times crazier than if you just cried in the first place—so I cry. It’s my normal cry face, not the ugly one.
“Oh, Tori, it’s so nice to see the emotion. We’re happy to have you in our little family.”
“Thank you, Cynthia.” But that’s not the only reason I’m crying, but you can’t know that. And, also, what the hell is with that coffee maker at your place? Oh, right, can’t tell you about that, either, can I?
We celebrate—and, by that, I mean everyone comes over and hugs me. I try not to get tears on their fancy suits. After Elissa and Cynthia excuse themselves, and it’s just me and the fake ex standing around in the room.
“You know you didn’t have to vote yes if you really hated the book. I was thinking, and . . .”
“Do you like coffee?”
“Huh”
“Coffee,” he says slowly. “Do. You. Drink. It?”
I smile. He doesn’t need to say the last part, but I kind of want him to.
“Uh-Huh. I’m actually a little tired. This getting a book deal after a social experiment goes terribly wrong thing is tiring.”
“Great! You’re in luck, there’s actually a Starbucks down the street. I’m sure you knew that already. I’ll buy you a cup. I always like to treat my new authors to an overpriced cup of coffee. Let’s go.”
Oh, Cormac Delaney, what am I going to do with you?
Cormac
“Another Americano?” I ask.
“You know me too well.”
I smile. I wish that were the case. I want to know her more than I do. I’m just not sure that I’m ever going to get that chance with the way things have gone between us. “We know some things about each other, but there’s probably much more that we don’t know.”
“Yeah,” she says. “I guess you’re right. It was only a little over a week that we were living together.”
A week. It was, wasn’t it? Wow, it does not seem like such a short time that we were with one another. “That’s so crazy. I think for that short amount of time we got to know a lot about one another.”
“That’s true. I learned that you pack lightly and that you can be a slob sometimes.”
“Hey.”
“Stop, you know it’s true. If I hadn’t stepped in to play a 1950’s housewife you wouldn’t be sitting here with me, you’d be explaining to Cynthia why she has an infestation of mice and roaches. Just thank me. But back to what I was saying, I also learned that you’re thoughtful, sweet, and have some talent with BOB.”
I have no idea what that part means. “Who the hell is BOB?” I ask.
She giggles. “I’ll explain later.”
“So there’s going to be a later? I thought you were done with me.”
“That’s only because I thought you were done with me. Can I ask you?”
I know what she’s going to ask—the same thing Shoshana asked me, the thing I finally need to explain to her in person. “Before you do, let me answer.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry, that sounded confusing. I meant, if you’re going to ask about Maryanne, the answer is no, nothing is going on between us.”
“She’s your ex?”
“She’s my crazy, driven, borderline sociopathic ex, yes. It’s a long story, but right now just understand that I ran into her randomly a few weeks ago. Seeing her was like Chinese water torture, and I tried to get away but she went on about wanting to see me for drinks, so I said yes just to blow her off, but she ended up texting me. I met with her to let her know that nothing was ever going to happen, once and for all.”
“Because of me?”
“Two reasons—one, because I hate her and she’s nuts, but also, yes, because of you. I swear, I’m not a cheater, and I’m not a guy who’d ever have what we had that night, and then meet my ex the next day.”
“Now I feel really stupid,” she says. “I guess it’s apology time.”
“You don’t have to apologize. Shoshana came and saw me.”
“Wait, what?”
“She told me the whole story about your ex in college. And side note—if I ever ran into that douche I’d beat his ass. Don’t be pissed at her, she was trying to give me some insight on what had happened. And then I listened to that early podcast where you discussed it all.”
She takes a big deep breath, like she wasn’t expecting me to say that, of all things. But then she has a different look on her face—it looks like relief.
“I’m glad that you know. It was a horror show for a while.”
“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like,” I tell her. “But I can’t even begin to tell you how much I respect what you did with that situation. You could have folded—dropped out of school, sat at home and cried all day, but instead you made something positive out of it. That takes strength I can’t even imagine.”
“Thank you,” she says. “And trust me, there was plenty of crying and feeling sorry for myself also.”
“Nothing wrong with that. But when you were done feeling sorry for yourself, you got up and made something incredible out a horrible circumstance. That’s amazing.”
“And that’s also why I wrote this book—that’s what I was trying to explain to you all along.”
“I know that now,” I tell her. “And I appreciate the little changes you made. I’m so happy you’re going to be a published author now.”
“Me too.” For the first time in a while she has a real smile on her face—a happy face that you can’t fake.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “About misunderstanding what happened between us. With storming out. With thinking the worst of you. I guess the damage from that experience wasn’t totally gone yet. You helped me see that. I needed some time to reflect, to work on my book, to just think about everything that had happened. I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And you know I didn’t change the book just to get your approval. I changed it because you changed me.”
I smile. “I know you didn’t do it just for me—that’s why I voted yes. And you’re not the only one who was changed by the experiment, you know?”
“Should we start singing For Good from Wicked to each other right here? That would be epic.”
“Only if I get to be Elphaba,” I joke.
“No,” she says. “I’m so Elpahaba. You can be Glinda. You’re the happy go lucky—and sometimes obnoxious one. I’m the dark one.”
“So you’re calling the Wicked Witch part, then?”
“Always. And we can start singing at any point. I may not need to sell books, we can just get YouTube famous when someone takes out their phone and records us.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
I drink my coffee fast, because I need the energy for what I’m about to ask her. All this is great. It feels amazing sitting here with her, but I don’t know where everything goes from here. “So?”
“So?”
“What now?”
“I figure you finish your drink, and then I go tell Shoshana and my parents about the publishing deal and we celebrate. What are you up to this afternoon?”
“Stop it, you know what I mean.”
“Maybe,” she jokes. “But I want to hear you say it.”
“Still with that? You’re still gonna torture me?”
“Always, Cormac. I’m always gonna torture you.”
“Fine. You win. What I’m asking, is where do you and I go from here?”
“Cormac Delaney, are you asking me to bump your status up from fake boyfriend to actual boyfriend?”
“I think I am.
“In that case,” she says, smiling. “Hell yeah I want you to be my real boyfriend!”
I’m not going to sing broadway show tunes to her, but I a
m going to kiss her. I stand up, walk to her side of the table, and lift her to her feet. I put my hands on her hips and pull her into me, and I don’t give a damn who’s watching.
We kiss.
Like, we really kiss.
We might be making other people uncomfortable at this point.
Phones might be out recording us.
The manager might be on her way to our table to politely ask us to leave and never come back.
It’s that kind of kiss.
“Wow!” she says when we finally separate. “That was amazing.”
“I only have one more question for you,” I say, looking intensely in her eyes.
“What is it, Cormac?”
“Who the hell is BOB?”
She starts cracking up and buries her head in my chest. I still don’t get it.
“I promise I’ll tell you later.”
“How about dinner at my place?” I ask her.
“You cook also?”
“I’m a man of many talents.”
“You certainly are. How’s eight sound?”
“Sounds perfect. Wanna go?”
“Sure.”
Once we’re outside, I pull a special package out of my bag. “Oh, and I wanted to give you this. It’s not packaged all nice like yours—it’s basically brown paper bags poorly cut and even more poorly taped, but I didn’t have a whole lot of time this morning.”
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
She rips away the paper like a kid on Christmas morning. “Oh my God, you finished!”
“I did. I wanted you to see.”
“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you!” She gives me the biggest hug ever. “I redid the whole thing, almost from scratch. It’s still a rom-com, and still about two opposites who get together even though it seems like they never would. All I needed was a catchy title. What do you think?”
“The Three Kiss Clause,” she reads. “I love it. Although I have heard that somewhere before, are you sure it’s original?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Okay, just checking. Last thing I’d want is for my boyfriend to get sued for copyright infringement—might be a bad look for a partner in a publishing company. Just looking out for you.”
“I appreciate that.”
“There’s just one more thing.”
“What?”
“We only kissed twice.”
“No, it was three times.”
“I was thinking, though. If I don’t remember it, it really shouldn’t count. ‘Cause then it would be two kisses I remember and three that you remember. Doesn’t seem fair.”
“So what do we do?”
“I have an idea.” She steps forward and grabs me by the tie. Before I know it, her lips are pressed into mine. It feels like the rightest thing that’s ever happened to me. “What was that for?”
“See. Now the title makes sense.”
It sure does.
Now a lot of things make sense.
One Year Later
So I made it to Barnes & Noble for my signing after all.
Did you ever doubt your girl?
I’m just kidding around and being cocky—the truth is I doubted myself along the way several times, but here I am.
The time for insecurity is over. Take this as a reminder, TorMenTors—never let anything—or anyone—in this world tell you what you can’t accomplish. A few years ago I was just a college kid with a broken heart and a shitty ex boyfriend—nothing original at all. And now, I’m one of the most successful people I know, and saying that doesn’t make me arrogant, it makes me what I’ve always claimed to be—a self assured, badass woman.
I always knew that part.
The parts I didn’t know are the things I learned during my experiment with Cormac.
I learned that it’s not just women who can be self assured badasses—there are some great men out there who balance out all the shit heads like my ex, and all the exes out there. I learned that some of the qualities in men that I used to roll my eyes at aren’t always bad. In fact, some of them are downright amazing, as long as they belong to the right guy.
And then I learned the most important lesson of all—that Cormac Delaney is the perfect guy for me. It’s been a year since his company agreed to publish my book, and we’ve spent most of those days around one another. And guess what? Now we’re living together for real!
Cynthia never did find out about the naughty things that happened in her bed while she was touring Europe. Maybe one day that’ll make for a funny story for Cormac to tell her, cause I’m never saying a word about what he did with good old BOB! But speaking of which—we’ve had some amazing experiences that are never going to make my podcast. Let’s just say that trying to remember a time before incredible orgasms is like trying to remember a distant memory.
Things are amazing.
Cormac is everything I didn’t know I was looking for. I thought I hated him. I thought he was everything wrong with the male sex. I’ve never been so happy to be wrong in my entire life. Not only did I end up not hating him, I kinda sorta love him like no one I’ve ever loved before, and I know that he feels the same way about me, because he tells me that every single day.
I’m the luckiest woman there ever was.
Speaking of lucky, I can’t believe that I’m about to do my first legit signing. I speak to millions of people every week between my podcast and my YouTube channel, but seeing them line up around the corner is something different. I’m inside, sitting at a little table with Shoshana and the manager of the store. Looking through the window I can see the crowd. They’re all wearing my merch. TorMenTor shirts are everywhere.
“I’ve never seen the #slavestotheirdicks shirts before. They came out good.”
“Of course they did, silly,” Shosh tells me. “I had them made. Did you think they’d come out anything but awesome? Silly rabbit.”
“You’re right. How dare I question you?”
“Oh, Tori.” She jokes, taking my hand. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words for forever. This is a great day. For you also cause of the whole book thing. But especially for me.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Well, if I was crazy, I probably wouldn’t know it, right?”
“You do have a point there, Shosh.”
“I’m just me. That’s all I know how to be.”
The manager of the store comes forward. “Are you ready to meet your adoring fans?”
I am. I really, really am.
She opens the front doors and the line starts to form in front of my table. Each one of them has a copy of Fu*&$Boys in their hands, and each has a TorMenTor shirt of some kind on their body. This is so amazing I can barely believe it’s happening.
Now, you remember those hashtags, right? Probably not, it’s been a hell of a journey to get here, so let me remind you just in case you’re one of the fifty people on line to take that epic selfie with me. #slavestotheirdicks (of course), #torikleinisawesome #shessoapproachable #myfavoriteauthor #fuckboys. You get the idea—just remember to tag me on IG and I might add you to my story!
I can’t even tell how much time has passed—maybe twenty or thirty minutes. I’ve been signing my ass off, and taking crazy amounts of pictures, and line looks like it’s getting longer, not shorter. I haven’t even had time to look up yet. The whole time Shosh is standing behind me, keeping things moving.
“Have you seen Cormac in the crowd?” I ask her. “He said he was taking the day off so he could be here but I haven’t heard from him.”
“He’s your boyfriend experiment, shouldn’t you be keeping track of the man?”
“That’s not quite how it works, Shosh. And I think we can drop the experiment part—he’s just my regular boyfriend now, remember.”
“My mistake. Let me go see if I can find him. Maybe he’s caught up in the wave of TorMenTors outside. Hold on. Can you handle things while I’m gone?”
“I think I
’ve got this.” I joke. “But if anything gets dicey I’ll just use our secret word so you can come choke some fools out.”
“Is it strange that I hope that happens? Wait, don’t answer that, it is strange. Let me run before I say something silly.”
“Too late.” She disappears into the distance and I sign a few more books. It’s great seeing my fans. They came out in droves—young girls, older women, and even a few guys. After a while Shosh comes back and sits next to me.
“I texted him for you. He’ll be here soon, I’m sure.”
“Thanks.”
I lean down underneath the table because the points on my sharpies are running down to flat little nubs. As I’m bending over I hear a copy of my book slam down on the table above me. I’m still bent over, and all I can see underneath is. . .”Hey. I know those shoes.”
Then I hear his deep voice. “Excuse me, would you mind signing this for me? I’m a huge fan.” I lift my head up so fast that I almost bang it on the edge of the table.
“You’re here!”
“You’d think I’d miss this for anything in the world?”
He’s the best. He’s really the absolute best.
“I should have known better than to doubt you.”
“You got that right. Now would you please sign this for me?”
I look up into his deep blue eyes and get lost for a second. “Wait, you really want me to sign this? I have a million copies at your place. I can sign any of them for you.”
“I realize. I had to climb a small book mountain just to get to my closet this morning.”
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s alright. You can make it up to me by signing this one. This is a special copy, and I’m going to make a special place on my bookshelf just for it.”
The Three Kiss CLause Page 22
