Page 66 of Twisted Truth

My cheeks must be tomatoes by now, I’m blushing so hard. Both Asher and I start to argue, but Matthew cuts us off. “You know I’m right. So, don’t waste my time arguing. You have less than twenty-four hours to look like a couple in love, and you’re going to need every minute of it because I refuse to spend my Sunday morning putting out the fires you two will start if you can’t get your shit together for tomorrow night. Am I clear?”

For the thousandth time this week, I wish the earth could open up and swallow me whole.

“Yes, fine,” Asher growls. “So, get out of here, then. This is strange enough without the two of you hissing instructions at us.”

“Gladly. And when I come back tomorrow with the hair and makeup team for Ella? I expect to be impressed. I will test you. I want to see a kiss,” he taps his fingers in succession as he continues, “I want to see chemistry, natural poses together for the camera, connection, love in your eyes. I don’t care what you have to do tonight to get there—just do it.”

With that, he and Emily leave, and Asher and I stand together in the kitchen with a world of forced, awkward pressure between us.

This is going to be a long night.

19

ELLA

Dinner is a collection of sounds. Clinking silverware, sips from glasses, quiet chewing. Neither of us knows what the hell to say or how to break the Titanic-sinking sized iceberg between us. I feel like I’m a preteen at a junior high dance—no idea what the hell I’m supposed to be doing, all the while managing to be the most shy, awkward version of myself.

Fun times.

The sad thing is, Emily said something that was completely spot on, earlier. Asher and I did seem to have a natural chemistry between us this week. I certainly had plenty of times where I felt drawn to him, instinctively, and I could have sworn he felt the same way. But since that spark was shoved under the sharp microscope eyes of Matthew, Emily, and Rhonda, it’s evaporated. It’s like the pressure of having to show our chemistry has made it disappear, altogether. And I’m not sure how to get it back.

The feeling of being an out of place preteen takes root, but it gets me thinking, and I come up with an idea.

“We have to do something besides eat in silence,” I say,pushing the food around on my plate. “This might sound absurd, but what if we tried to make tonight fun instead of full of pressure?”

He lifts a dark brow. “How so?”

“Well, I was just thinking back to when I was a teenager and went to parties or dances where the atmosphere was cold and strained like this, that we would play stupid games to get things moving along. What if we played a game?”

Asher swallows, thinking. “What kind of game?”

“I don’t know. Dumb high school games, like spin the bottle or truth or dare.”

“Spin the bottle is kind of pointless with only two people.”

“Okay, maybe not spin the bottle. But we could play truth or dare. Which also makes me think that we know almost nothing about each other. What if someone asks us questions about each other tomorrow night? We should at least know the basics, like favorite food, hobbies, stuff like that. We could also answer speed dating questions.”

He seems to mull over my words for a moment. “So, you want to play truth or dare, and you want to answer speed dating questions.”

“Yes. Unless you think Matthew’s right, and we should just jump into the sack to try to solve our lack of chemistry?”

He snorts. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Twenty minutes later, I have speed dating questions pulled up on my phone and we’re both in our pajamas, sitting on his bed. I kind of want to slap myself for not purchasing any pajamas at my shopping appointment this morning since I’m wearing an old black t-shirt with a hole in the bottom and purple sweatpants that have also seen better days. At least the t-shirt is fitted so I don’t look like a total slob. But I still feel like it, because Asher is wearing gray sweatpants that make him look like a god, and a tight white t-shirt that does little to hide the masterpiece of what’s beneath.

“Look at us. It really is like teenage sleepover time,” I joke. “We should paint our nails next.”

Asher rolls his eyes. “I’ll go first since that was a terrible joke.”

I narrow my eyes. “That was a perfectly adequate joke.”

“We’re not here for perfectly adequate, are we Ms. Hale? We always strive for excellence at Langford Holdings.”

“Well then, Mr. Langford, proceed. I shall endeavor to meet your standards of excellence.”

He smirks at me. “We’ll see. First question: What was the last book you read?”

Oh, shit. I blush and hide my face in a pillow.