Page 25 of Guys Can’t Write Romance
Chad sank lower in his chair, looking like he might slide under the table at any moment. Daisy, meanwhile, appeared to be calculating the distance to the exit and whether she could make it there before anyone could stop her.
“And Daisy,” Mags turned to her, ensuring no one escaped the gentle roasting, “describing your hero’s coaching style as ‘infuriatingly attractive’ probably wasn’t meant to be quite so...”
“Accurate?” Helen suggested.
“Personal?” Liv added.
“Obvious,” Ruth finished.
“Can we please focus on the actual writing?” Daisy squeaked.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Mags said, reaching across the table and patting her hand with genuine affection beneath the teasing. “That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
For the next ten minutes, the group continued offering their not-so-subtle suggestions for how Chad and Daisy could ‘build tension’ between their leads, while Chad’s face grew progressively redder and Daisy’s pen organization became increasingly frantic.
Liv suggested more ‘meaningful glances across crowded rooms,’ while Phil recommended ‘accidental touching that sends electricity up their spines,’ delivered with the same matter-of-fact tone he might use to describe proper wiring techniques.
Much to Chad and Daisy’s relief, the group then moved on to the other members’ pages, which were, admittedly, less entertaining.
Bernie’s historical romance set during the Korean War received thoughtful feedback on period-appropriate dialogue, and Liv’s travel-inspired romance about a nomadic artist and a homebody chef was praised for its vivid sensory descriptions.
The meeting concluded a half hour later, and Chad and Daisy couldn’t get out of there quick enough, gathering their materials with unusual haste.
“Just remember,” Mags said as everyone packed up, her voice carrying the wisdom of someone who had seen this romance trope — in both books and real life — play out numerous times. “Three weeks until the deadline. Plenty of time for your characters to figure out what’s right in front of them.”
“Unlike some people we know,” Ruth added under her breath, though not quietly enough to escape notice.
Outside the cafe, the evening had grown cool as Chad and Daisy crossed the parking lot to their cars, the group’s observations replaying in their minds.
“So,” Chad said, picking at the strap on his backpack. “That was... uhm... something.”
“Yeah. Definitely… something.”
“They’re crazy, right?” Chad said, hoping for reassurance.
“Totally crazy.” Daisy nodded with way too much enthusiasm.
“I mean, just because my character happens to have some organizational tendencies...” Chad trailed off, seemingly unwilling to complete the thought that hung in the air between them.
“And mine happens to coach little league in his spare time...” Daisy also left her sentence unfinished.
“And I named my character after a flower…” Chad was hesitant to go on.
“Exactly. Lilly’s a pretty name,” Daisy said. “It doesn’t mean anything. They’re just being…”
“Meddlers?”
“Yeah. Meddlers.”
They looked at each other, then quickly away as they reached their cars, parked side-by-side.
“Writing session tomorrow?” Chad asked, hoping his voice sounded casual.
“I can’t tomorrow,” Daisy said, sounding almost apologetic. “But the day after?”
“Sure,” Chad said. “Hot date with Ethan?”
She nodded, fishing her keys from her purse with unusual clumsiness. “Yeah.”
“I’ll bring some coffee to wake you up.” The teasing comment had a gentleness to it that hadn’t been there in their earlier interactions.
She gave him a faint smile that carried a hint of something complicated. “He’s really not that bad.”
“I’ll bring the coffee just in case.”
The moment held a strange intimacy, not romantic exactly, but a kind of understanding that hadn’t existed before. Two people recognizing something in each other that they weren’t quite ready to name.
Chad climbed into his Jeep and watched Daisy climb into her sedan.
Once inside, he pulled his pages from his backpack and flipped through them.
The words seemed to carry more weight now than they had when he wrote them.
There was no mistaking that his female lead’s quirks had shifted from generic type-A personality to specifically Daisy. When had that happened?
Meanwhile, in her car, Daisy read over her latest chapter, where Rick helped a kid perfect his batting stance while making terrible jokes about ‘swinging for the fences’ in life as well as baseball.
When had her boring lead turned into Chad?
When had she started writing Chad’s laugh, Chad’s coaching style, Chad’s surprisingly insightful life advice delivered through sports metaphors?
They were so screwed.
And the worst part?
Their novels had known it all along, the characters on the page more honest than their creators were ready to be.
Across the parking lot, Mags and the other group members watched through the cafe window with mischievous grins, decades of combined life experience recognizing the familiar dance playing out before them.
“A week,” Mags said to no one in particular, stirring her tea with practiced elegance. “I give them a week before one of them cracks.”
“My money’s on Chad,” Helen said, her grandmother’s intuition sensing the vulnerability beneath his carefree exterior. “He’s less practiced at denial.”
“Daisy,” Ruth countered, her teacher’s insight recognizing the pressure building behind Daisy’s carefully maintained facade. “She’s got more to lose. That perfect image she maintains can’t withstand this kind of emotional honesty much longer.”
“Twenty bucks says they both crack simultaneously,” Liv offered, her romantic soul always believing in perfect timing.
“You’re all terrible,” Bernie said with the exasperation of someone who had been listening to these women speculate about romance for decades, then added, “Put me down for ten on Chad.”