The True Love Experiment

Connor laughs a little at this, turning his heated gaze back up to mine. There’s a challenge there. Hope translates it as I don’t recall ever saying that I didn’t want to be with you.

“But I’m saying that I love you,” I continue, “because I sometimes think we as a society hold too many things back. We’re afraid of being vulnerable or rejected, we’re scared that we’re weird or say things that no one else thinks. And that’s okay. I’m not scared of that with you. I know I’m being rejected, I know I’m weird, and I know for a fact that no one else thinks exactly what I’m thinking right now because no one knows you the way I do. No one loves you in this exact, perfect, consuming way.”

“Fizzy,” he says quietly, his fingers twitching on the table. Carefully, he reaches one hand forward and brushes his fingertips over the back of my hand.

“So, when you’re home later, and feeling however you feel about this conversation—whether it’s grossed out, happy, sad, or confused—I just want you to know that there is someone on this planet who loves you unconditionally and deeply because of who you are and how you carry yourself. I’m so glad to have known you, Connor.”

He looks down again, taking a slow, deep breath. “I don’t know what to say right now.”

“I know. That was a lot. You don’t have to—”

“No,” he says quickly. “I mean, there is so much I’d like to say, and I’m not sure how to articulate any of it.”

I bite my lips, willing myself to not speak over him.

“If you know what happened with Smash Course,” he says slowly, “then I presume you understand why I had to continue to stay away.”

Hope flares alive, hot and thrashing behind my ribs. “Yes.”

Connor looks at me quizzically. “I expected you to tell me it’s all bollocks.”

“It is bollocks,” I say. “But you get to choose how you handle it. You clearly knew that I wouldn’t care what Blaine or anyone else has to say about it, and you made the decision that’s best for you. How can I be upset about that?”

He looks at me, surprised.

“Don’t you get it, Connor?” I say. “I’m telling you I love you. I want what’s best for you, even if that isn’t me.”

Connor opens his mouth to reply but Brenna approaches behind him. I cut him off. “Brenna’s coming over.”

Turning in his seat, Connor smiles at her. “What’s up?”

She looks shaken. “Do you have a second?”

“Join us.” I pat the seat beside me.

But she shakes her head. “Sorry, I—I think I need to cover this one with Connor solo.” She lowers her voice to him. “We have the results.”

I lean in. “My results?”

Neither of them looks at me, but Brenna nods at him. “I want—” she says, and then gives a shaky smile. “You and Rory will need to figure out the edit plan, that’s all.”

“Oh, right.” Connor turns back to me.

I try to read the forecast in his expression. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” His smile is only a flicker across his lips. “We need to finish this conversation, but can we do it another time?”

This entire change in vibe has me jittery and uncomfortable. “Yeah, totally.” I stand.

“Fizzy,” Connor says.

“All good.” I move around him, but he stops me with his hand on my forearm.

“I mean it. We need to finish this.”

I nod but don’t say anything else. It would come out strangled and broken anyway. I’m glad I told him everything I wanted to say, but I don’t feel better the way I expected to. If anything, I feel worse, especially with the prospect of truly finishing this to look forward to.





forty-nine FIZZY




I’m not surprised that I don’t hear from Connor before the live finale begins, but I would be lying if I said the last day and a half wasn’t lonely and stressful. Everyone in my life assumed I’d be busy with something or someone else, but in reality, I was alone in my living room, eating ice cream out of the gallon container, replaying my conversation at Stone with Connor over and over, and watching old episodes of Breaking Bad to feel better about my life. Sure, I confessed my love to a man for the third time without any reciprocation, but at least I don’t have a dead body in the bathtub upstairs.

I dutifully show up at the television studio downtown at noon on Saturday for hair and makeup, and hold out hope that I’ll get a glimpse of Connor at some point—even from across the room, I’m not greedy—let alone some time to speak to him in private. But if he’s in the building with us, I never see him.

I do see Brenna, Liz, Isaac, Evan, and all of the Heroes who’ve been voted off but will return for the reunion portion of the show. We’re ushered around from room to room, being powdered and coiffed and prepped for the interview. Being in the studio feels like we’ve leveled up in importance; gone is our cozy little coffee shop, sweet dates in the park, and the illusion that what we’re doing here is some small indie production. This is big. Somehow, even with the new followers, being stopped in public, bestseller lists, and calls for interviews, I never quite comprehended just how big this has gotten. There are security guards who walk us from trailer to studio. The entire building hums with energy, and a line of people hoping for tickets to the live finale wraps around several city blocks.

I’m given four choices for outfits, but the truth is, I don’t really care what I’m wearing. I feel oddly numb as I step into the dressing room and pull on the red A-line dress I know my mother will love, because I realize that facing my life after this isn’t going to be easier. I did this show for some sort of jump start, inspiration, a change of perspective. I found something new inside me—the feeling of genuine love and passion—but unattended, I already feel it turning into a sharp spur in my thoughts, souring. In all of my visions for the show, never did I come out of it sadder than I was before.

From our prepping, we’re told that the run of show will go a little something like this: The Heroes will be interviewed as a group, with short videos shown for each of them. After this, I’ll be brought out to talk about my experiences with them. Finally, the audience vote will be revealed, followed by the DNADuo scores. The winner will be crowned and he’ll pick me up in a fireman’s carry to take me out of the building and aboard the plane to Fiji.

I might have fictionalized that last part a bit.

Brenna sets me up offstage so I can watch the first portion from the wings as well as on a monitor nearby. From the other side of the set, the men file in to roaring applause, and Lanelle gives a brief introduction to the show, how it started, how it grew in popularity beyond anything we ever imagined.

Inside my chest, my heart feels like a wind-up toy cranked too tight.

Nick, Dax, Colby, Jude, Arjun, and Tex are seated on the long couches on either side of Lanelle’s chair, with Isaac and Evan in the positions closest to her.

“These eight Heroes were invited to join the show and date the much-beloved romance novelist Felicity Chen.” Cheers rise again, and I peek out, trying to find Jess, River, Juno, and my family out in the dark mass of bodies. “The goal was not to pull them out of their day-to-day lives but to see who clicked, who connected… and who didn’t. Every week, you—the audience—voted on which Hero you believed was Fizzy’s soulmate. And tonight, we’ve assembled the entire cast to discuss their experiences, their hopes, and most of all, their thoughts on The True Love Experiment!”