I danced around my living room, holding up the “L” with my fingers, teasing Ethan about my inevitable victory. I knew I was acting like a toddler who’d just gone to the potty for the first time, but I didn’t care. I was sick of him beating me at every game and gloating about it right after.
“As much as I’m enjoying this private dance,” Ethan smirked and dropped a red chip into the board, “Connect Four, sweetheart.”
“What!” I plopped down in front of the board and looked where I thought I had him beat ten seconds ago. I had two potential lines forming, but I clearly hadn’t noticed where his red diagonal was taking shape.
“You must have cheated!”
“Whatever you say. What game do you want me to beat you at next? I’m willing to play blindfolded at this point.”
“You’re always so modest when you win,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re not going to ask me a question?”
“Oh right, Confession Connect Four,” he laughed. “Why haven’t you let me take you out on a real date yet? Are you scared it won’t go well or something?”
I sighed. I knew he was getting tired of coming over and playing board games every night. He’d offered to take me out to dinner almost every day, but I turned him down each time.
“I’m trying to do things differently,” I looked at the Connect Four board. “Every time I’ve dated someone and we went out all the time, we didn’t really talk much…It was like all the over the top dates and expensive gestures were the only communication and I didn’t know them as well as I thought I did when it was over. I want to keep things simple…”
He probably won’t call me again after tonight...It was fun while it lasted…
“Hmmm,” he smiled. “Okay. I think I better understand you now.”
“Really?”
“Yes,” he started putting the chips back into the box. “I really do.”
“Can I ask you something personal, Ethan?”
“Anything,” his eyes met mine.
“Well, you told me you’ve never been in love before so…Why did you propose to your last girlfriend if you weren’t in love with her? Why would you do that?”
That question had plagued me ever since we played Confession Uno. I didn’t understand why any man would propose to someone he didn’t love—minus the men in staged Hollywood relationships of course.
“I thought we were compatible and that that would be enough for the long haul,” he said it as if he were handling a business transaction—cool, calm, detached. “But, apparently that’s not enough for marriage.”
“I see. So do you still have feelings for her? Wait, that’s none of my business. Thank you for coming over tonight. I had a lot of fun and—”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me gently. “No, Selena. I don’t have feelings for her anymore. Anything else you want to ask me? We don’t have to play confession games for you to ask me questions.”
“No…Not right now, I—”
“I’m glad it didn’t work out,” he kissed me again. “I might’ve never found out what Confession Uno was.”
I wriggled out of his embrace and put the Connect Four box away. When I came back into the room, he was putting on his jacket.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yeah. I have to get up early,” he hugged me. “And you do too, right?”
“Oh yeah…I forgot.”
My mom had cut all of her waitresses’ hours in half—even the waitresses who had worked there since the shop first opened: Autumn Wonder had begun selling their pies at half the price of hers and the customers were talking. Since I was “free labor,” she needed me to open the store all week.
“You can’t stay one more hour?” I frowned. “Just one?”
“Okay, just one…” he let me go and sat on the couch.
I sat next to him and turned on the TV. As luck would have it, the TV was set on an after-hours celebrity show and my picture was onscreen.
“And in Hollywood Harlot news,” the red-haired host paused and the audience laughed. “Selena Ross was recently dropped from Macy’s holiday campaign for being a whore! She was also replaced in the highly anticipated Sweet Tennessee film. Why, you ask? The director was already involved in one affair and didn’t want to deal with another one!”
The audience laughed again and I felt tears welling in my eyes.
“I mean seriously, with all the money she has why wouldn’t she just pay someone to sleep with her in private if she was that desperate and lonely? Did she really have to go after a married man and flaunt it in public?”
A picture of Phillip and I hugging at a private park appeared onscreen.
“Oh and get this, audience! I read somewhere that her life-long dream is to win every award on the planet, so not to worry Selena—if you happen to be watching tonight, you definitely have my vote for ‘Ho of the Year’!”
The camera panned to the audience members who were now clapping and laughing hysterically.
A new picture of me appeared onscreen. It was a black and white portfolio shot and the word “SLUT” was scrawled across it in ugly red handwriting.
The host went on, “We’ve had some pretty interesting nicknames for Selena Ross over the past few weeks, but my favorite one is—”