How to Choose a Guy in 10 Days: Chick Flick Club #1

by Lila Monroe

  “Sure,” Zach agrees. “I’ll be here, with all the free food.”

  “I’ll be right back,” I promise, my heart thumping now with nerves.

  We follow Serena out to the back terrace, where there are views of the gardens, lit by torches and more amazing lights.

  But I don’t care about the party, I’m focused on Serena—her expression giving nothing away.

  This is it. Everything I’ve been working for. And even though I feel like I’ve already won, just getting closer to Zach, I suddenly feel a competitive edge.

  She can’t give the promotion to Arielle. Can she?

  “Well, ladies,” she looks at us both, smiling. “Here we are. You’ve both worked hard, I know, but like I said, I can only have one of you heading up this project. So, onto the judging ...”

  I gulp. Even though it’s our clients she assessing, it’s my work on display.

  “Arielle,” Serena begins, “You dressed Kent in bold outfits and he looks great—tonight especially.”

  My heart sinks.

  “But I’m not sure he loves all the changes,” she continues. “We want our clients to be one-hundred percent happy with the results. Not to mention that adding a few accent pillows and a vase to his apartment isn’t exactly what I would call a ‘complete transformation’ to his home.”

  Wait, what?

  My head snaps around. Arielle’s cheeks flush. “His grandma just did a total renovation on the place! What was I supposed to do?”

  Serena gives her a smile. “I guess it’s a tough break for you that you stumbled upon the grandson of one of the richest families in the Bay area. One who can afford to fly over Sweden’s top interior designer at the drop of a hat.”

  Seriously?

  I have to stifle a laugh. Turns out, Arielle’s winning redesign wasn’t even her idea!

  But my smile slips when Serena turns to me. “Now, Gemma …”

  I brace myself.

  “You did an impressive job with Zach, especially looking at those before photos.” Serena smiles. “His apartment looks comfortable and stylish, and I noticed in the invoices that you went the extra mile with outfitting it, too: grooming products, new books and records, and those referrals to housekeeping and meal services, also. That’s the kind of 360-degree thinking I want to bring to the new department. So, congratulations!”

  I’m shocked silent. Arielle gasps.

  “What?” she demands. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve decided to go with Gemma on this.” Serena beams at me, and I think I see real pride in her expression. “The promotion is yours—if you want it, of course.”

  “No! I mean yes! I want it. Of course I do! Thank you so much!” I’m speechless, and on top of the world. “I promise, I won’t let you down. I have a ton of ideas, how we can make this project a success—”

  “Why don’t you wait until Monday?” Serena laughs. “For now, there are a lot of people I need to introduce you to. It’s time you met my investors, and some of the marketing team. Are you ready?”

  I take a breath and nod. “Yes.”

  Serena leads me back inside, but this time, I’m not just one of her employees, I’m the head of the next exciting department.

  I can’t believe it. All my hard work has paid off—and not just with the bet. Now I’ve got the promotion, my raise, and an amazing man somewhere around here, too. It’s more than I ever imagined, and I feel so full of gratitude and excitement, I could burst.

  I did it! I really did it. Despite the rivalry, and the week-old pizza boxes, and the hairy feet. I helped Zach find a new lease on life, and wound up with the prize, too.

  Could this night get any better?

  Serena introduces me to the first group of people, and I shake hands, managing not to fumble the investors’ names, as nervous as I am.

  “Gemma isn’t just our finest stylist,” Serena adds. “She’s also going to be heading up the new lifestyle project.”

  “Really?” they all turn, interested. “Tell us about your plans for the program?”

  “Well, I’m really excited for us to take the Styled mission to the next level,” I begin nervously. “Clients come to us to help transform them, and by moving into the lifestyle side of things, we’ll be able to really help them become the best versions of themselves.”

  “Plus, there are so many more opportunities for corporate co-synergy,” Serena interrupts. “We won’t just be working with fashion brands, but design, home décor, new delivery and home service companies too. It will put Styled on a whole new level, in terms of revenue goals and commission potential.”

  Right. That too.

  Serena continues chatting, and I know I need to pay attention, but I catch sight of Zach out of the corner of my eye. He’s loitering by the snack table, talking to someone.

  I can’t help but smile.

  He looks so good, but it’s not about the custom suit, or his clean-shaven appearance. I’m crazy about the guy underneath, too.

  Then the crowd shifts, and I can see who he’s talking to.

  Arielle.

  Uh oh.

  “… Gemma is so ready for this kind of expansion, aren’t you?” Serena says, dragging my attention back to her and the investors.

  “Of course!” I blurt. “I can’t wait to get started!”

  The investors nod and then Serena takes the lead again, talking about Milan being the epicenter of this new type of … something … I miss the word because I’m back to looking at Zach and Arielle. She has her hand on his arm, leaning in close, talking.

  Oh shit.

  My stomach lurches. What is she saying to him? Serena is still talking a mile a minute about our amazing expansion plans, but all I want to do is race over there and stop Arielle doing … whatever it is she’s doing.

  I dart a look back at Zach, but his expression is unreadable.

  Argh!

  I can’t wait any longer. “Sorry, excuse me,” I mutter as politely as I can, then duck away from the group, leaving Serena looking pissed.

  But I don’t care, I only care about what’s going on with Zach and Arielle right now. She wouldn’t tell him about the bet, would she? We had a deal!

  But the competition’s over, I realize. All bets are off.

  And if there’s one thing Arielle has never been, it’s a gracious loser.

  “Excuse me! Coming through!” The crowd jostles, making it impossible for me to fight my way over there. But then Zach looks up, and we lock eyes, all the way across the room.

  And my heart freezes right there in my chest.

  Because I see it, the disappointment and hurt on his face, the look I hoped I’d never see.

  He knows about the bet.

  And he’s not laughing.

  22

  Zach

  Game Over

  “What do you mean, it was a bet?”

  I stare at Arielle, on edge. She’s got a big fake smile on her face, but I’m not buying it for a second.

  “Oh come on, you don’t have to pretend you didn’t know anymore. She got the job,” Arielle says, “So your little scheme paid off.”

  “Really, I don’t know about any scheme.” I insist, getting a weird chill down the back of my spine.

  “Huh.” Arielle pauses. “So you said all those nice things about her being a good stylist on your own?”

  “She is a good stylist.” I glance over at where she’s talking to some big-wigs, and smile.

  Arielle rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You two keep your secrets. I just don’t think she was playing fair. I mean, the bet was to make over a total loser. It doesn’t count if he knew all along.”

  What?

  My expression must show how little of a fucking clue I have, because Arielle suddenly laughs. “Oh my god, you really didn’t know! Whoops,” she grins. “I guess I have to give some credit to Gemma, after all. She really took you from hopeless to hunk. Good job, I guess.”

  Bet … schemes … pla
ying …

  Her words finally sink in. This was some stupid game to them?

  And what was I? A fucking pawn?

  I stare at her in total disbelief. “So this was all some contest to you guys?”

  Arielle smirks. “I mean, yes. To win the promotion,” she explains. “I didn’t think Gemma had it in her, but hey, turns out she can be ruthless, after all. I hope she thanked you,” she adds with a wink. “It certainly looks like she has.”

  I don’t even know what to say. Suddenly, the past ten days feel like a total lie. I want to get the hell out of here, rip this damn suit off, and clear my head, but Arielle’s still talking.

  “… Obviously didn’t occur to me, but I should have made it against the rules to sleep with the project.”

  My head snaps back around.

  “I mean, it’s pretty much guaranteed to get a guy to do whatever you want, right?” she laughs. “I probably could have done a better job with Kent—especially his personality—if I’d had sex with him.”

  That chill down my spine turns into a full-on ice floe. “Gemma slept with me for the bet.” I say flatly.

  She shrugs again. “It wasn’t part of it, but I know she really wanted that job. Who knows what she’d do to win it?”

  A lot, it seems. Including sleeping with her loser hopeless case.

  I’ve had enough. I turn to go—and come face to face with Gemma. She looks flustered, and out of breath. “Hey! You guys!” her voice comes out high-pitched. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

  “Your bet.” I reply.

  Her eyes go wide. “Zach, wait, no!” She looks at Arielle. “What did you tell him?”

  She smirks, “Just the truth.”

  “Is it?” I ask, clinging to some last thread of hope and self-respect. “Tell me she’s lying, Gemma. Tell me that this wasn’t all some fucking game to you.”

  “Zach, please.” Gemma gulps. “Just let me explain.”

  Fuck.

  “That wasn’t a ‘no’,” I tell her grimly, pushing past.

  “Zach! Wait!”

  I hear her calling, but I don’t stop. I make it through the crowds to the lobby before Gemma catches up.

  “Wait,” she insists, “Please! You don’t understand. I turn towards her, hating how good she looks. How stricken her expression is. Because fuck, I can’t trust a thing she says anymore. Nothing I thought is real. “You needed to find a loser to fix up and win your promotion, and I was right across the hall. How fucking convenient.”

  She recoils. “Zach … I …” she stutters.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see this coming, I mean, you’d think I was used to it by now!” I laugh humorlessly. “All that Bigfoot stuff, I figured it was our little joke. But you just couldn’t wait to get your hands on me. To make me into your little pet project.”

  Just like my ex-wife.

  Gemma swallows. “I’m sorry,” she says, her eyes wide on me. “At first, OK, I figured you could use a little sprucing … but Arielle picked you! You weren’t my choice.”

  Somehow, that makes it even worse.

  “And you agreed!” she adds quickly. “You said you wanted to change, you were all in, so I figured … it couldn’t hurt.”

  Hurt? It feels like a fucking anvil just landed on my chest, but I refuse to let her see how much her betrayal cuts me. None of this was real to her, not one fucking minute.

  “You know, at least when Lisa tried to change me, I saw it for what it was.” I shoot. “At least she was honest when she told me to my face I wasn’t good enough for her.”

  Gemma gasps. “That’s not true! Zach, I swear, I never thought that! ”

  “Right,” I say sarcastically. “You just wanted to change every single thing about me.”

  “I didn’t change you!” Gemma protests. “You changed yourself.”

  “And for what?” I ask. “I thought we had something, Gemma. I thought … I don’t know, like I was finally moving on. Starting over. With you.”

  It hurts even admitting it, knowing she was laughing behind my back all along.

  “We did have something!” Gemma insists. “We do!”

  “No,” I say harshly. “You got what you wanted, you got your precious promotion. Whatever happened between us … I’ll consider it my payment,” I add, with a hollow laugh. “For being your hopeless case. At least you worked hard in the bedroom, too.”

  She gasps, but I have to ignore the look of hurt on her face, because I can’t take this anymore.

  “The bet’s over. Congratulations. You won.”

  And then I turn and walk away before she can see how fucking crushed I am.

  23

  Gemma

  I wake up in my own bed.

  Alone.

  I reach for my phone and hear a clank beside me. Reminders of the past two days worth of self-medicating surround me: tear-stained sheets, wine bottle, empty ice cream cartons, Pringles cans.

  It’s the same post-break-up wallowing scene I’ve been through before, but this time, it feels different.

  It hurts so much more.

  I should be happy, I tell myself. Ten days ago, the promotion was all I wanted. But now I don’t care about the job. I just care about the look on Zach’s face when he realized about the bet. I’ve never felt so ashamed in my life. Even just thinking about it now is enough to make me want to find more wine.

  And it’s not even seven a.m. yet.

  I want to smack Arielle for telling him about the bet. But I know, I’m really the one to blame. My conscience has been nagging at me since this all began and I just ignored my instincts and got swept up in the competition. And for what? A promotion? It was everything I wanted, but now it just feels hollow.

  Nothing could be worth the betrayal in his eyes. He thinks I’m just like Lisa, that I only ever saw him as a project, but he has it all wrong. I never thought he wasn’t good enough.

  At least, not once I got to know him.

  I flush in shame. Because yes, I totally did see him as a fixer-upper. I judged him based on his scraggly beard and baggy clothes, and manwhore lifestyle. But once I got to know him, I liked him for him. Sure, the new and improved window dressing doesn’t hurt, but it was him, Zach. The man I got to know and fall for.

  How much fun we have. How I feel about us together … That has nothing to do with hair or a tailored suit.

  And I wrecked everything.Fuck. A fresh wave of tears start falling, and I wipe them away. I’ve been hiding out here ever since the gala, waiting for him to reply to my five million messages, but clearly, it’s not going to happen.

  I need to make this right. I need to make him see, I’m crazy about him, and I’m so sorry I ever hurt him.

  But how?

  I practice my apology in the long hot shower. Also on the walk to the donut shop. And then in the elevator back up to our floor. I’m balancing the bag of donuts in one hand, the tray of coffee in my other.

  I knock with my foot.

  Silence.

  “Zach?” I say as I knock again. “Please, just talk to me. I have donuts!”

  More silence.

  “And coffee.”

  The silence becomes deafening.

  “I can explain everything.”

  Still nothing. I get out my phone and text him. At your door with coffee, donuts, and big apology.

  I stare at my screen, willing him to read it and respond.

  I add a smiley face.

  Then a donut emoji.

  “Please, please, please!” I mumble at my screen. “Come on, Zach. You can’t hide from me forever.”

  A second later, I see the three dots that tell me he’s responding. I want to fist pump in triumph. But then I hold my breath, terrified of what will come next.

  I almost die, holding my breath so long.

  Then the three dots disappear.

  No message.

  No Zach.

  I slink back to my place, and collapse on the couch in defe
at. I don’t even have an appetite for the donuts, that’s how badly this hurts. I stare at the snacks mournfully, wondering what I can do to get through to him.

  My phone buzzes.

  I snatch it up, my heart pounding—

  But it’s just Zoey. And Eve.

  Again.

  They’ve been texting our group chat non-stop the past couple of days, peppering me with (unanswered) questions.

  ‘Did you win? ‘

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘You must have won and are celebrating. Bc you would NEVER ignore your best friends.’

  ‘Enjoy your celebration sex haze!!!’

  I haven’t responded yet. I didn’t want to make it real. But now there’s no avoiding it any longer.

  Besides. To hell with my pride. I need my besties.

  I take a deep breath and finally type: ‘it’s over. Zach found out about the bet. He hates me.’

  The reply comes immediately.

  ‘Don’t go anywhere. We’re on our way!’

  * * *

  Zoey and Eve arrive in under an hour, with supplies. Zoey is toting food from the truck, and Eve has brought Duke—a hundred pounds of love and comfort covered in fur.

  “I love you guys,” I gulp, tearful, as they smother me in hugs.

  “What happened?” Zoey demands. “It was that bitch Arielle, wasn’t it? I knew she couldn’t be trusted!”

  I shake my head. “It’s not her fault, it’s mine. I agreed to the bet. I should have known, Zach would feel used.”

  Because I was, using him. Even if it didn’t feel that way, it’s the truth, in the end.

  “Aww, babe.” Eve looks stricken. “I was so certain you guys were the real thing!”

  “Maybe we were.” I swallow hard. “But I screwed it all up.”

  I shake my head. “Please, distract me,” I beg. “I’ve been wallowing for days now. I need something to wipe it off my mind.”

  Wiping it off my heart will be a different matter.

  Eve digs around in her bag and pulls out a DVD. “I brought this. I figured this would be the perfect watch to get your mind off things.”

  When I see that it’s Pretty Woman, I burst into tears.