Romancing Miss Right by Lizzie Shane

kiss.
    The only date that hadn’t been dominated by
clumsy make-out efforts was Paul’s Napa Adventure—which had been
dominated instead by Paul’s tragic history. Neither of them had
felt much like making out after he’d confided in her that he
donated a kidney to his diabetic sister only to have her die in a
car accident two months later.
    But with everyone else, it had been a race to
her mouth.
    Aidan swooped in for a second attempt and
Marcy gave him a gentle shove until he collapsed back into the
depths of the plush loveseat.
    “Aidan, who put you up to this?”
    “What?” he blinked at her blearily. “Put me
up to what?”
    “Who told you that you had to kiss me,
Aidan?”
    “I want to,” he insisted.
    “I’m glad, but why are you suddenly in such a
hurry? Why are all of you suddenly all about making out?”
    Aidan shrugged. “I dunno. Craig said… you
know.”
    “Craig said. Of course he did.” She stood and
Aidan’s head wobbled on his shoulders as he tried to track the
movement with his eyes. “Let’s find you some coffee.”
    Then she had a piece of her mind to give to
Craig.
    #
    “You warned me that you were a bad influence,
but I somehow thought you were only trying to influence me .”
    Craig looked up from his game of
solitaire—minding his own business like a good boy like he’d been
doing all week—to find Marcy standing over him with her hands
planted on her hips. Tonight was the Elimination Ceremony and he
was laying low, hiding out in the card room and trying to avoid
confrontations, but Marcy had found him and she looked pissed.
    Wasn’t that how it always went? Just when he
started actually behaving himself, he got accused of all manner of
nefarious things he didn’t actually do.
    He gathered the cards into a stack. “Who am I
influencing now?”
    She ignored the question. “Did you start some
kind of competition to see who could kiss me this week?”
    “Ah.” He might have done that. Not in so many
words, but he’d known the effect his challenge would have. On the
plus side, at least he was being accused of something he’d actually
done. “It wasn’t a competition, per se.”
    “I can’t believe you.” She threw up her hands
and the cameramen swiveled to get a better view. She really was
something when she was pissed off. Face flushed, eyes flashing—it
was a good look on her. Eat your heart out, America.
    “In my defense…” He trailed off. He didn’t
really have anything to say in his own defense. Apologizing,
justifying his actions, they weren’t exactly activities he had a
lot of practice with.
    “You did it on purpose. You knew exactly what
would happen.”
    Craig slapped the cards down on the table.
Fuck it. Being good was boring as hell. “Of course I did. We’re
competitive beasts, princess. I didn’t even have to say much to
bring out the Neanderthal brigade.”
    “That’s your excuse? It was easy?”
    “It’s not an excuse. Just a fact.” He rose,
tired of giving her the high ground—literally—in the argument. On
his feet, he had several inches on her, even in those pointy
heels— don’t get distracted by the legs, Craig . “How many of
them see anyone beyond Miss Right when they look at you? They’re
competing for the prize. At least I see that there is more to you
than just the girl we all want to win.”
    “Do you want to win? Or are you just here to
make a splash so you can become a star?”
    “Can’t I do both?” he asked, though he knew
he couldn’t. The winners tended to fade from memory, riding off
into the sunset together. It was the runners-up who stayed in the
public eye.
    “I don’t know. Can you?”
    “Look, Marcy…” He reached for her, certain
that if he could just touch her, he could bring them back to a good
place, but she shied away from him, stepping back quickly.
    “Just stop sabotaging the other guys, will
you, Craig? You may not want to find love, but some of them do and
I’d like them to have a