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Chapter 1
Stephanie Holland couldn’t decide if being recruited to be a case study for a self-help book on dating and relationships was flattering or horrifying. She was leaning towards the latter.
“Are we talking about, um…,” Stephanie scooted forward and glanced around the crowded hospital cafeteria before lowering her voice as she clarified, “sex?”
“Sure. It can be sex.” Unlike Stephanie, Misty spoke at the same volume as if she’d just commented on what a sunny day it was. “Or it can be dating, just hanging out. It’s totally up to you.”
“Okay. And you said there are categories. One and done. Two and through. Three and free. And four means more. Right?” She’d been trying to take mental notes on her friend’s dating philosophy, but it was a struggle. As a nurse, she was accustomed to long hours but she was halfway through her fourth consecutive twelve-hour shift. Actually, two of those were fourteen-hour shifts. Not that she was complaining. She needed every penny.
“Correct,” Misty verified, adding a decisive nod.
Stephanie had never subscribed to any particular method when it came to the opposite sex. Although judging from her disastrous track record in the love department, maybe she should’ve been doing just that. “And you actually followed these um…rules?”
“Yes.”
Questions were whizzing around in Stephanie’s brain like racecars on a track, but there was one that was definitely leading the pack. “Why?”
A knowing grin pulled at the corners of Misty’s heavily glossed lips. “It started because I got so damn tired of wasting my time on guys that weren’t worth it. A couple years ago, I had just broken up with a guy who I dated for over a year even though I knew, knew, on the first date that he wasn’t right for me. But I was lonely and I projected all this stuff onto him that I shouldn’t have. After we broke up I was so mad at myself for the months, years that I’d wasted on the wrong guy.
“Then one night, about a week after the breakup, I was hanging out with my brother and his friends at The Plate and this girl walked in. One of the guys in the group was seeing her at the time and he told us that she had four-means-more potential. I had no idea what they were talking about and they explained that when it came to hookups they lived by a code. One and done. They liked someone, hooked up, and moved on. That was it. No follow up, no second date. Then there was two and through. They liked someone enough to see them again but then had no interest in a three-peat. Three and free was basically a third hookup but then getting out before things got serious, thus the free. And four means more was still being invested and wanting to spend time with someone after four encounters.
“For some reason their ridiculous code clicked in my head. I’d been forcing long-term relationships on one and dones, two and throughs, and three and frees. So, I took a page from my brother and his friends. They didn’t meet someone and immediately start planning their wedding like I did. After that day I stopped looking at every guy I met as potential husband material.
“Instead, I started evaluating guys I dated and putting them in these categories. It was liberating. I didn’t waste time on guys just because I wanted to be with someone. I felt empowered. It was the best two years of my life which finally led me to this.” The blonde beauty lifted her hand causing the two and a half carat rock that sat on her ring finger to sparkle under the overhead fluorescent lights. “In three months I’m marrying the man of my dreams. If I hadn’t been living by the code I would’ve probably spent a good six months on a two and through and not been single when I met Julian.”
Her friend was happily engaged to a professional football player and obviously attributed her engagement to the code system that she’d just laid out. The same code system she was turning into a self-help book.
“And you want me to follow this code and report back to you?” Stephanie clarified, wanting to know exactly what she would be signing up for.
“That’s the basic idea. But just so you know, it is totally anonymous. I won’t know that it’s you and no one else will either. I need data. My agent loves the book proposal. My title is Casting Love and I’m giving the code a Hollywood take, to make it more palatable and marketable. The tagline is: You are the leading lady of your life, are you ready to cast your leading man? One and done is going to be: The Audition. Two and through is going to be: The Callback. Three and free is going to be: The Screen Test. And four means more is: Booking the Role.”
Stephanie nodded. The Hollywood spin didn’t surprise her. She remembered that Misty had always had a flare for the dramatic. The girl had starred in every school play and musical from first grade all the way through senior year. And she had to admit, it was kind of genius. Although Stephanie had never had a burning desire to “cast her leading man” she knew that she was in the minority.
Misty went on, radiating enthusiasm as she explained, “The proposal was accepted and I have a publishing date, but I need to have more than just my own experiences in it or it’s a biography. So, I’m calling on all my single ladies. I have a website set up and when you login you’ll be given a random ID number. No names are ever used. Then, all you need to do is follow the code and input your findings for six months.”
As straightforward as that sounded there was one, fairly big, problem.
“I don’t really date,” Stephanie admitted.
It’d been a good four years since she’d dipped her toes in the dating pool. The hiatus was a result of her last swim in those waters ending in a large, painful belly flop that hadn’t only stung, it also knocked the wind right out of her. Since then she’d determined it was best to stay on dry, single ground. Sure, it might be lonely but at least there was no chance of drowning.
“I know, Steph.” Misty’s tone indicated that it was common knowledge, like saying grass is green or the sky is blue. “But that’s by choice. If you wanted, your dance card would be full. I heard the new hot, hot, hottie anesthesiologist has been asking you out, not to mention I ran into Mrs. Chatsworth and she said that Mason is back in—”
“Don’t,” Stephanie cut her friend off. “Don’t mention it.”
Mason Augustus Chatsworth III was the last person that Stephanie would ever consider dating…or dating again. Actually, that wasn’t true. If he was the very last person on this earth and the entire human race depended on her procreating with him, the species would become extinct.
“Sorry.” Misty raised her hands in mock-surrender. “My bad, not him. But someone. You’re what, twenty-five?”
“Almost twenty-six,” she pointed out. Her birthday was in a month.
“You have the career you’ve always wanted. You’re smart, spunky and smokin’ hot. I mean do you know what people would pay to have your gorgeous, natural red hair, your perfect complexion, full lips and pinup curves?! Come on, you’re like every guy’s wet dream come to life. You live alone. You’re settled. And your family stuff is…better. Right?”
Stephanie may not agree with her friend’s physical assessment, but her other observations were fairly accurate. She had always wanted to be an RN and she was. She was still renting, but she lived alone. And her “family stuff” as her friend had so delicately put it, was better. The twins were doing okay…for now. Knock on wood. Scott was finally in a facility that he was happy and flourishing in and Simone was doing well in college. And her mom, well, she hadn’t heard from her mom since her eighteenth birthday. Which was for the best.
Misty smiled broadly. “It’s time. This is your time.”
“You’re really going in for the hard sell.” Stephanie grinned as she lifted her can of pop and took a sip. She contemplated her friend’s enthusiasm as the caffeine-infused carbonated beverage slid down her throat. Curiosity was getting the better of her, but as she set the can down, she reminded herself of the cat’s fate after following said path. More information. That’s what she would need before she could make a decision. “How many people have you asked to do this that turned you down?”
