This time I held out my hand so that he couldn’t kiss me. “Hi, I’m Lemon, from—”
“Atlanta?” Dante finished as he took my hand. I tried not to gasp when he leaned down and kissed my hand. My pulse exploded as my lungs deflated. The smirk on his face told me he knew exactly the effect he had on me. Sneaky jerk. I yanked my hand free.
“How did you know I’m from Atlanta?” He was supposed to pretend that he’d never met me.
“Your jersey,” he said. “It says Atlanta on it.”
Oh. “Yep, that’s me. From Atlanta. Go Braves!” I should have said something clever or funny, or kicked him in the shin for making me all weak-kneed again. Instead, I sounded like an idiot.
I really wanted to wipe that all-knowing smile off of his face, but I couldn’t think clearly. His cologne had invaded my senses, and I wanted to grab the lapels of his jacket and pull him closer.
He spoke and I balled up my hands at my side, ordering them to stay still. “I love your accent. I’m Dante.”
“Okay.”
And I walked away. I was going to look like a total fool on national television. Maybe they’d edit me out for hitting below the stupidity threshold. Although given the sorts of things that happened on this show, that bar was pretty low.
Nobody stopped me to do it over, and I let out a sigh of relief when I reached the front door. When I stepped inside, I was struck by the overwhelming smell of melted wax. I could only imagine how many candles had given their lives in service of the show. An assistant directed me to the Mixer Room, where all the parties and ceremonies would be held.
The room was full of women who were pretty in a generic way—everyone had long hair (mostly extensions) with beachy waves. They all sported fake eyelashes, too-white teeth, and perfect makeup. They wore tight, formal dresses that fit courtesy of Spanx, and heels so high I worried for their safety. Especially since most of the women in here were already half drunk.
“Wow!” someone said over my shoulder. “I was in the car behind you, and I have to say, you two have the kind of sparks where you need a welder’s helmet. Yikes. The rest of us won’t stand a chance!”
I turned to see a tall and very pretty redhead with dark green eyes. Her hair was a deep, fiery color. Normally you’d expect to see a lot of freckles on a girl like that, but her porcelain skin was clear and smooth. She had a genuine smile on her face, and I felt drawn to her. It reminded me of the first time I met Kat. Where it had felt like I had known her in another life and that we would be the best of friends in this one.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be surprised if I last beyond tonight.” I wanted to reassure her because she seemed wired and nervous.
“I’m Genesis. Which I know is a weird name, but you get used to it after a while.”
“Were your parents religious?”
“My mom, fanatically so. Hence the name. And you are?”
“I’m Lemon.”
She laughed. “So you get it.”
The other women stared at us like old cows looking at a new gate. I could see that they dismissed us immediately as possible competition. Ordinarily that would have gotten my dander up—but since I wasn’t competing for Dante’s heart, it didn’t matter. I would have to tell him about Genesis, though. She seemed very sweet.
I heard Annie talking to the other girls about her arrival. “He couldn’t take his eyes off of me. We had such a connection. I bet I get the ‘First Sight Heart.’ You should have seen our crazy chemistry.”
“I certainly saw the crazy part of it,” I whispered to Genesis, and she laughed, which caused the women to turn as one toward us, like a bunch of hormone-addled meerkats. Annie glared at me, and I just smiled at her. Because that’s what you did with crazy people. Another limo arrived and everyone turned back to the window.
An angry-sounding dark-haired girl in a purple dress said, “I told him that my last boyfriend wanted me to lose twenty pounds, so I decided to lose two hundred pounds in the form of my loser ex-boyfriend instead. If Dante can’t like me how I am, then I don’t want him, either.”