Page 4 of The Love Interest

Humble? Check.

“Elaborate on that,” he says.

“I want her to pick whoever will make her the happiest. And if she’s a better fit with him, I’ll gladly accept my fate.”

A total pushover? Check plus.

I imagine myself standing naked in a massive steel room: the incinerator. Feeling the cold dry air on my skin, the metal beneath my feet. The split second of agony before the roaring orange flames turn me into ash.Stop thinking about that. Focus!

“There must be some good things about you,” he says. “Tell me about them.”

“I’m a good listener. And I can be funny sometimes, I guess.”

“If you caught your Chosen kissing your rival, what would you do?”

I lower my eyes and bring on the tears. When I feel them behind my eyelids I look up at him, my entire body radiating hurt. I stare at him for a moment, drop my mouth open a fraction, then turn my head away.

“I’d look at her like that. Then I’d walk away. Next time I saw her she’d probably apologize if I were still in the running, so I’d tell her she doesn’t ever have to explain herself to me, and that I only responded in that manner because I love her so damn much. I’d tell her I’m glad it hurts because it proves how much I care.”

“Would you fight for her?”

“If I had to, yes.”

“When will you first try to kiss her?”

“I won’t. I’ll wait until she kisses me. But I’ll kiss her on the cheek after our first date.”

“What would you do if she texted you in the middle of the night and said she was lonely?”

“I’d drop everything and run to her as fast as possible. I’ll be there for her whenever she needs me. No matter what.”

“Now, I have one last question, and in many ways, it’s the most important one, so think for a second before answering. If you get it wrong, you’ll be dismissed.”

I wipe my sweaty palms on my legs. This is it. One last question.

“I’m ready,” I say.

“Do you think you will fall in love with her?”

I smile, because I know the answer, and that means I’m finally getting out of the LIC. There’s no way I can get it wrong, because the answer to this question has been drilled into me every single day I’ve been here.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “She’s the hero of this story, so how I feel is irrelevant.”

He leans back on his chair and grins.

“Correct.”

CHAPTER

TWO

Craike left after that, leaving me alone in the room to stew. He never told me explicitly that I made it, so I have no idea if I passed or if I have to go back to my cell to wait until another girl is ready. On one hand, he seemed pleased with my answers, but he also saw right through some of my lies. Does he know how fake I am? He definitely won’t send me out if he knows. My interview replays in my mind, with each repeat narrowing in on my more cringeworthy lines.I had one shot and I screwed it up.

With a whoosh, the door slides open and a tall girl with straight blond hair enters. She’s dressed in an oversized blue flannel shirt, torn black jeans, and white sneakers. In her hands is a white iPhone, which must be showing something fascinating as she’s staring at it intently. Under one arm is a pile of neatly folded clothes. Men’s clothes.

She places the pile on the table. “Get dressed.”

“Thanks.” I stand and grab the shirt. It’s a white dress shirt and the material is soft and silky. I put it on. It fits tight against my body, hugging my shoulders and tapering in at my waist.