Page 47 of Guys Can’t Write Romance

Chapter thirty-four

All Nighters and the Submit Button

The coming days were a blur of all-nighters, energy drinks, and junk food, as Chad and Daisy raced to finish their manuscripts in time for the submission deadline.

Thursday night found them on the couch in Chad’s living room, with empty pizza boxes and energy drink cans scattered across the floor.

Across the room, a Hallmark movie played on TV, providing just enough white noise and ambiance for their writing.

From the bits and pieces Chad caught, the story was something about a big-city lawyer finding love in a small-town bakery.

“The cookies are burning!” the heroine whimpered on screen.

“That’s what oven timers are for, dummy!” Rhino’s outraged voice blurted out from the kitchen. “How can you own a bakery when you don’t even know that?”

Chad and Daisy looked over and saw Rhino watching from across the open counter, his eyes glued to the TV. Chad and Daisy exchanged amused grins and returned to their laptops.

Several minutes later, Rhino was back scolding the characters on TV. “Would you just kiss him already? Sheesh. The guy fixed your entire electrical system for free.”

Chad snickered and looked at Daisy, who was ready to burst out laughing.

“Want us to work in my room so you can have the couch and watch it?” Chad asked Rhino.

Rhino shot him a look like he’d just been asked to wear a ballerina tutu. “Watch a Hallmark movie?” he said, as if his eyes weren’t already glued to it. “Get serious, bro. It’s bad enough we’ve got one sissy living here.”

“Just checking,” Chad said. He and Daisy exchanged a grin before turning back to their laptops.

The peace lasted about four minutes, before...

“Why is the guy getting on a plane?” came Rhino’s outraged voice from the kitchen. “He’s got the hot bakery chick standing right there.”

Chad and Daisy exchanged looks. “Coffee shop?” he said.

“Definitely,” Daisy said, closing her laptop and packing it in her bag.

The next night, what Chad and Daisy had planned as an evening writing session in his apartment, followed by dinner, ended up going late into the night.

By the time eleven rolled around, the two of them were loopy from an overdose of junk food and energy drinks.

Chad had stacked the empty cans in a pyramid on the table in front of them, and it stood there as a monument to excess sugar and caffeine.

With a yawn, Daisy rose from the couch and headed into the kitchen to splash water on her face.

As she bent over the sink, a clatter of aluminum cans came from the living room.

She walked back in to find Chad face-planted on a box of powdered donuts, knocking over the pyramid of cans as he fell forward.

She started to wake him up, then changed her mind. Instead, she snapped a photo with her phone of his face covered in white powder from the donuts.

Saturday evening, Chad and Daisy arrived at his apartment, armed with cartons of Chinese takeout and more energy drinks. As they passed the kitchen, they heard the unmistakably cheery sounds of a Hallmark movie in the adjoining living room.

Chad turned to Daisy and held his finger to his lips to motion for silence. She nodded her understanding while a mischievous grin spread across her face. They eased down to the floor, then crawled to the corner of the kitchen and peeked around it into the living room.

Rhino, Troy, and Brett sat on the floor, surrounded by empty beer cans and bags of chips. Across the room, ‘The Holiday Hayride’ played on the TV.

“Dude,” Troy said to the character on TV through a mouthful of chips, “just stay in Montana with her.”

“Seriously,” Brett added. “She’s way hotter than the chick in New York.”

“He can’t,” Rhino said, “’cause there’s still thirty minutes left.”

Brett groaned. “Who made up the stupid rule that they can’t actually kiss until there’s only five minutes left?”

“Definitely wasn’t a guy,” Rhino said. “If guys wrote romance, they’d hook up as soon as he sees her in a bar, they’d kiss, the end.”

“You know what this movie’s missing?” Troy said, fishing a handful of chips from the bag. “A Christmas tree lot in the middle of town.”

“Like in the last movie,” said Brett.

“And a snowball fight,” said Rhino.

“Are you seeing this?” Daisy whispered to Chad from their hiding spot outside the kitchen.

“I’m hoping I can unsee it,” Chad whispered back.

“Should we go back to my place?” she whispered.

“Might as well. We’re not getting any work done here.”

They turned and crawled back out the door.

Sunday night, Chad and Daisy were deep in their writing, when the front door opened. Rhino and Chloe stumbled in, more than a bit tipsy. As soon as Chloe spotted Daisy on the couch, her face lit up with a drunken grin.

“Daze. Your boyfriend’s hot,” Chloe said, rushing over to Daisy and wrapping her in a drunken hug. “Can I borrow him? Please?”

“You want to borrow me?” Chad said.

“No, dingus,” Chloe said. “Daze’s book boyfriend, Rick. She finally gave him testosterone therapy. But you,” she added, leaning over and poking him in the chest with her finger. “You made me cry at the end.”

“When did you read our manuscripts?” Daisy asked her.

“I might have snuck into your laptop and peeked at the pages you’ve been exchanging,” Chloe slurred. “But answer me this. When did you two finally figure it out?”

“About our characters?” Daisy said.

Chloe shook her head. “No. This.” She pointed her finger from Daisy to Chad. “Because I’ve been losing my mind waiting for you guys to finally get a clue.”

“Makes two of us,” said Rhino. “So, this means no more moping around the apartment like a homeless puppy?”

“I never moped like a homeless puppy,” Chad said.

“And Daze kept getting all googly-eyed every time someone mentioned Chad’s name,” Chloe said. “So, does this mean the surfboard wedding’s back on?”

“What surfboard wedding?” Daisy said.

“The one Chad talked about when you guys were pretending to hate each other. Keep up with the program, sister.”

“You’re not gonna make me wear a tux, are ya, bro?” Rhino said. “’Cause it’s gonna look dumb with the wetsuit.”

“Ooo, can the bridal party wear matching bikinis?” Chloe coo’d.

“All in favor of the bridal party wearing bikinis, say ‘aye’,” Rhino said, raising his hand to register his vote. “Aye.”

Chad looked at Daisy, whose cheeks were as pink as his. “Your place?”

Daisy gave a big nod as she packed her laptop into her bag. “Oh, yeah.”

“I’m kinda digging this Daisy Meal Plan,” Chad said to Daisy in between bites of lasagna at her dining table. “I’m giving it the bachelor seal of approval.”

“I thought only microwave dinners and bar food qualified,” she smirked.

“I’m gonna make an exception, ‘cause this might actually be better,” he said, shoving another bite in his mouth. “Who’d have thought.”

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure there was a compliment in there somewhere, so I’ll take it. You ready for the deadline tomorrow?”

Chad wiped his mouth with his sleeve and took a breath. “I think so. At this point, I’m pretty much just nitpicking the same sentences over and over.”

Daisy gave a big nod in agreement. “Me too. I’m kind of ready to just have it over with.”

“Yup. Same here.”

“Did you come up with a title for your book yet?”

“I think so,” he said. “What do you think of ‘A Ghost of a Chance’?”

Daisy nodded thoughtfully. “I like it. It ties in the ghost element with how nobody thought Brandon could write a romance. How’d you come up with it?”

“Some girl bet me a while back that I couldn’t write a romance novel. Kind of art imitating life.”

Daisy smiled. “I’m glad you proved that girl wrong. So what are we toasting to tonight?”

He stared at his wine glass for a moment as he considered this, then finally raised it. “To happy endings.”

She smiled, raising her wine glass and clinking it against his. “To happy endings.”

The day of the deadline for contest submissions finally arrived.

Daisy and Chad sat in front of their laptops on his makeshift coffee table that afternoon, staring hesitantly at the ‘submit’ button on the contest’s website.

Chad had already checked three times to make sure he’d attached the right manuscript, and not the one with the slime monster.

Daisy had done the same, triple-checking to make sure she hadn’t attached a draft with Ethan in it- er, boring Rick.

“You ready?” Daisy asked, her free hand finding his.

“I guess. You?”

“I think so. Let’s do this.”

“On the count of three?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand.

“One…” he began the countdown, “two… thr—”

“Woah. Wait,” Daisy cut in.

“What is it?”

“What if they hate it?” she said.

“They won’t,” he said, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “And if they do, we’ll pull the fire alarm and turn the sprinklers on during their banquet.”

She laughed, the nervous tension vanishing from her eyes. “Okay, let’s do this. One… two… three.”

They pressed the ‘submit’ buttons at the same time, and a moment later, a page popped up with ‘submission received’ across the top.

“We did it,” she said, releasing her breath as the moment slowly registered.

He nodded. “Yup. We did.”

“Does that mean I can have the living room back now?” came Rhino’s voice from the kitchen.

Chad and Daisy turned and saw him watching them from over the kitchen counter.

“How long have you been standing there?” Chad asked.

“Long enough to see the two of you acting like a couple saps. Now move it.”

“We’ve moving it,” Daisy said, as she and Chad packed away their laptops.

“Wanna grab some drinks to celebrate?” Chad asked, helping Daisy to her feet.

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a big nod. “Lots of them. And maybe some calamari to go with it.”

“See what a good influence I am?”

“My arteries said you’re a dead man.”

Chad laughed. He turned to Rhino as they passed him on the way out. “Make sure you put my movie back when you’re finished.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Rhino said, plopping down on the couch.

“Sure you don’t,” Chad said, not buying it for a second.

“Oh, and tell Chloe I’ll be home late,” Daisy called back over her shoulder as they headed out the door.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about either,” Rhino said.

The weeks following their submissions passed agonizingly slow, each one stretching longer than the last as Daisy and Chad awaited the contest results. By the third week, her email checking had become compulsive. And Chad wasn’t much better.

“You’re checking again, aren’t you?” Chad said without looking up from his laptop. He and Daisy were curled up on opposite ends of her couch, laptops balanced on their laps as they worked on a new novel they were writing together.

“No,” she lied. “Okay. Maybe. Yes.”

“Isn’t that twelve times you’ve checked today?” he said.

“Fifteen,” she sighed, setting her phone on the coffee table like an addict flushing her stash down the toilet. “Not that I’m counting or anything.”

Chad looked up from his laptop and watched her with amusement. “You gonna be okay, Daze? Need me to check you into a treatment center?”

She grabbed the throw pillow from behind her and playfully smacked him with it.

Later that week, Chad and Daisy were shooting a game of pool at The Salty Siren. Just as Chad lined up his shot, Daisy’s phone buzzed on a nearby table with a new email. She practically dove across the bar to get it, then frowned as she quickly read the email and set her phone back on the table.

“Let me guess — someone wants to extend your car’s warranty?” he asked.

“Nope. Some Nigerian prince wants to send me a million bucks,” she said, walking back to the table.

The next morning, Chad woke to a series of texts from Daisy:

‘Did you check yet?’

‘Nothing in my inbox.’

‘Maybe it went to spam?’

‘Checking spam now.’

‘False alarm, just weight loss pills and more Nigerian princes.’

‘But maybe check your spam too?’

Chad groaned and texted her back: ‘I think you need coffee.’

Her response was immediate: ‘Already on my third cup. Coming over. Bringing bagels.’

By week four, their email obsession had reached next level. They sat on their surfboards beyond the break that morning, but instead of relaxing to the rhythm of waves rolling beneath them, or the sunrise coloring the sky in pink and orange, their faces were lit by their cell phones.

“Anything?” Chad asked.

“Nope. You?”

“Just someone wanting to send me a free survival pack of MREs.”

“If you guys are out there checking your emails, I’m drowning you both,” Rhino hollered from the distant shore.

They looked over and saw him wade into the water with his surfboard and begin paddling their way. They quickly clicked off their phones and slid them into waterproof pouches.

By the end of the fourth week, Chad and Daisy had developed a system. Morning checks over coffee, midday checks during lunch, evening checks after dinner, and one final check before bed. Plus, the random checks in between that they pretended weren’t happening.

They were deep into chapter five of the novel they were co-writing, when both of their phones buzzed simultaneously.

They froze.

“That was probably just—” Chad started.

“Twitter,” Daisy finished. “Or Instagram.”

“Or spam.”

“Definitely spam.”

They stared at their phones.

“We should check,” Daisy said.

“Together?”

She nodded and scooted closer to him on the couch. “One...”

“Two...”

“Three.”

They opened their emails.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“Chad?” Daisy’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Runner up,” he said, still staring at his screen. “They liked my book.”

“Finalist,” she breathed. “They... I’m a finalist.”

They turned to each other, matching expressions of shock on their faces.

“Chad!” Daisy launched herself at him, nearly knocking both laptops to the floor. “You did it!”

“We did it,” he corrected, hugging her tight. “You’re a finalist! I knew they’d love your story!”

“Runner up!” She pulled back to look at him, her eyes shining. “They loved your mischievous ghost and horror writer!”

“They loved your Rick and Julie!”

They were both laughing now, a giddy, breathless kind of joy that had them holding onto each other.

“We have to celebrate,” Daisy said.

“Hundred percent. Should we call everyone and let them know?”

Still holding each other close, Daisy shook her head. “This is our story, Chad,” she said, a warm sparkle filling her eyes. “The story of how a neurotic teacher falls in love with a hopelessly juvenile horror writer. And right now, I just want to celebrate the story of us with you.”