Page 36 of Guys Can’t Write Romance

Chapter twenty-five

When Hell Freezes Over

A collective gasp, along with a few discrete snickers, arose from the members of the writers’ group as Chad and Daisy arrived for that night’s meeting. Together. With Chad even holding the door for her, and Daisy not trying to slam it shut on him.

“Did someone rearrange the planets while I wasn’t looking?” Helen whispered to Bernie as they watched Daisy and Chad cross the room to the table, engaged in animated conversation.

Bernie adjusted his glasses, squinting in disbelief. “I’d sooner expect to see my cat doing calculus.”

“They’re being nice to each other,” Ruth Anderson hissed, clutching Philip’s arm. “Philip, I think this might be a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Either that or one of them has been replaced by a pod person,” Philip replied, only half-joking.

Mags, resplendent as always in a turquoise caftan with matching earrings the size of small chandeliers, observed the pair with the calculating eye of a romance novelist who’d written over thirty happily-ever-afters.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled, loud enough for everyone to hear. “If it isn’t our star writing team, finally putting the ‘co’ in collaboration.”

Daisy’s cheeks flushed pink as she took her usual seat. “We’ve decided to call a truce until after the contest,” she explained, reflexively arranging her colored markers in rainbow order.

Chad sprawled into the chair beside her, his notebook showing coffee ring stains, and what looked like hot sauce on one edge.

“Turns out Fields here knows her stuff,” he admitted with a casual shrug that fooled absolutely no one. “Who knew romance could be so structured?”

“And who knew horror writers had a heart?” Daisy countered, the compliment causing Chad to glance at her with a flicker of fondness in his eyes.

“You know,” Liv chimed in, “I was just thinking about how it was only a few weeks ago that Chad insisted Daisy’s romance novel needed a werewolf, and Daisy suggested his horror story would be better if the monster went to therapy.”

“Those were valid critiques,” Chad mumbled, not looking up.

“And now look at them,” Bernie added, his gentle voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Sitting there like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.”

“Now that you mention it,” Helen chimed in, adjusting her reading glasses, “they’ve been stealing glances at each other like teenagers in study hall.”

“I have not!” Daisy protested, her cheeks flushing pink.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Bernie quipped, earning chuckles from around the table.

Phil cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should review the evidence systematically. One: they arrived simultaneously.”

“Pure coincidence,” Chad interrupted, though his ears had turned distinctly red.

“Two,” Phil continued, undeterred, “neither has mentioned monsters or color-coding yet.”

“Three,” Ruth added with a gleam in her eye, “they’re sitting next to each other instead of at opposite ends of the table.”

“They were the closest ones to the door,” Chad countered, before realizing they were on the far side of the table from the door.

Mags’ eyes went from their seats to the door, and the smirk on her face let them know she wasn’t buying any of their protests.

“Darling, you two are better than my daytime soaps,” she said, adjusting her chunky necklace.

“Now, are we going to talk about your budding romance, or are we going to critique some pages?”

“Pages!” Daisy said quickly, at the exact moment Chad blurted, “Definitely pages!”

The group exchanged knowing looks.

“Page critique it is,” Mags agreed, failing to hide her smile. “Let’s start with Helen’s submission.”

As Helen began discussing her latest chapter, a poignant scene where her recently widowed protagonist finds her husband’s love letters in an old trunk, Chad shifted in his seat, his arm brushing against Daisy’s. She didn’t pull away.

Philip noticed and nudged Ruth, who elbowed Bernie, who winked at Liv, who smirked at Mags, who looked like the cat who’d gotten into the cream.

When it came time for Chad’s pages, Liv cleared her throat dramatically before reading from her notes.

“I have to say, Chad, I’m impressed by the emotional vulnerability you’ve allowed your protagonist to show.

The scene where Brandon realizes he’s falling for someone completely unexpected was surprisingly moving. ”

“Surprisingly?” Chad protested, though without his usual defensiveness.

“We all expected more bikini-clad women running from mutated alligators,” Phil explained.

“The only alligators in sight are emotional ones,” Ruth added approvingly.

“And I particularly loved how you described her eyes as ‘organizing the chaos in his mind,’” Helen said. “Very poetic for a man who once compared love to a zombie apocalypse.”

Chad rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture Daisy had noticed he did when feeling uncomfortable with praise. “Yeah, well… Daisy’s been giving me some books to read.”

“You read them?” Daisy said, unable to conceal her surprise. And even admiration.

“Well. Yeah.”

The room fell silent as every member of the group observed this small moment of acknowledgment. Daisy’s eyes met Chad’s, then quickly darted away, but not before everyone caught the soft smile that played across her lips.

Mags clapped her hands together. “And now for Daisy’s pages. I must say, your male lead has undergone quite the transformation. Rick used to be as exciting as dry toast — no offense, dear — but now he’s got an edge. A playfulness. A certain... roguish charm.”

“He was a bit flat before,” Daisy admitted. “I realized he needed more dimension. More spontaneity.”

“And he just happens to volunteer coach pee wee baseball now?” Ruth asked innocently.

“And have a ‘crooked grin that made her stomach flip like she was on a roller coaster’?” Bernie quoted from the pages, his bushy eyebrows waggling.

Daisy shifted uncomfortably. “It’s fiction, everyone.”

“The best fiction comes from truth,” Helen said gently.

“Speaking of truth,” Mags interjected, “let me remind you all that the deadline for the Heartstrings Publishing contest is one week from today. All submissions must be received by midnight next Friday.”

A collective groan rose from the group.

“Already?” Phil complained. “I’m still trying to figure out how to make a chemical engineer sound sexy.”

“Focus on his hands,” Liv suggested. “Engineers have capable hands.”

As the conversation devolved into a debate about what professions made the sexiest romantic leads, Daisy nudged Chad with her elbow.

“I read your ending,” she whispered. “Where Brandon’s ghost muse has to leave.”

“What’d you think?”

“I cried.”

“So, it worked?”

She nodded. “It was perfect.”

“Thanks. I had a good teacher.”

He could have melted under the warm smile she gave him. For a moment, everything around them seemed to fade into the background, and they felt like the only two people in the room.

The spell was broken as Mags cleared her throat to get their attention. They slowly turned to look at the other group members, and to their horror, found the entire group watching them. They were so busted.

“Uhm, yeah. That’s a great idea.” Chad quickly scrambled to recover his composure. “I’ll make that change as soon as I get home.”

“Glad I could help,” Daisy quickly said, attempting to regain her own composure.

None of the group was buying it.

“You two might consider getting a room next time,” Bernie suggested, not-so-helpfully.

Daisy could have died of embarrassment. Fortunately, the meeting concluded before she figured out a way to disappear beneath the carpet. As everyone gathered their things, Chad hung back to help Daisy collect her array of markers, pens, and notebooks.

“Thanks,” she said as he fetched her pen from the floor and handed it to her.

“Sure,” he said, slipping on his backpack as they headed for the door. “We still on for surfing lessons tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll be there,” she said as he held the door for her and they walked out. “Just look for the pasty white girl flopping around like a beached fish.”

He laughed, closing the door behind them.

What neither of them noticed were the other members of the writers’ group, who had stopped packing their things to watch this sure sign that hell had frozen over.

“Well, I’ll be…” Phil muttered.

“I told you,” Liv said, removing a small notepad from her purse. “So, who all wants in on the pool?”

“Put me down for one week,” Bernie said, pulling out his wallet. “The sexual tension’s thick enough to cut with a knife.”

“Three weeks,” Phil said, doing the calculations in his head. “I still think we need to factor in their mutual stubbornness.”

Helen shook her head. “I give it one week. They’re already halfway there. They just don’t know it yet.”

“Oh, they know it,” Mags said, with the confidence of someone who’d plotted countless love stories. “They’re just terrified of it.”