Wrecked(74)

“Duly noted,” she tells him, not looking one bit sorry.

On stage, two students clip tiny remote microphones to their collars. Gail affixes his.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says quietly to him.

“No clue,” he answers grimly. The stage lights blind him to most of the audience; only the first few rows are visible. Carrie and Co. are in plain view to his right, Carrie’s expression frozen, unreadable. Front and center are the lax bros, looking highly entertained. All the way to the left he glimpses MacCallum’s president, sitting alongside her husband.

Gail flicks Richard’s mike and the room resounds with the thud.

“Say something,” she prompts.

“Testing one two three,” he tries. He hears his voice bounce off the walls. Haley’s does the same.

“Okay, you two,” Gail whispers. “Breathe. Have fun. Good luck.” She walks away.

The next few minutes are like a dream. Matt Trainor, exuding high--voltage enthusiasm, gets them to introduce themselves, then seats them on the couch while he delivers his opening lines. Richard tries to concentrate, but it’s hard. He’s disoriented by the warm, bright lights and the bursts of audience laughter breaking over them like waves.

Eventually, Trainor’s words begin to resemble a language he understands.

“Here’s the problem with ‘No Means No,’ ” Richard hears. “It sets up this dynamic that basically says, ‘I’m going to keep pushing until you say stop.’ Well, what does that tell us? That silence means yes? That it’s okay to go for it until someone draws the line? I want to suggest something more positive. More affirmative. More sexy, even. How about ‘Yes Means Yes’?”

As if on cue, applause breaks out. Richard isn’t sure why; he’s still waiting to find out what the guy means.

“Here’s my question,” Trainor continues. “Do you ask? Before something as simple as”—he gestures to the lips on his shirt—“a kiss?” Uneasy laughter ripples through the room. Trainor doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. Instead, he wheels around.

“Haley. Richard.” Richard feels himself startle. Matt Trainor looks at them curiously. “You volunteered together. By any chance, are you a couple?”

“Couple of what?” Haley asks.

The audience cracks up. Trainor smiles, but definitely looks taken aback. He’s used to making all the jokes, Richard realizes. And Haley’s funny.

Then, Haley turns on him. “Actually, Matt, it’s a good question,” she continues before the laughter fully subsides. “I’m not really sure where we stand. We’ve only recently met. But we’re spending time together. It’s sort of a work--in--progress. What do you think, Richard?” She looks at him, eyes wide. Questioning.

But every word feels like a combat dagger hurled at Richard’s head. He reads a challenge in her faux--innocent expression.

A protracted “ooooooh” rises from the student seats.

What the hell?

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers. “Pretty much an early stage work. In progress.” He feels his face burn.

Matt Trainor looks delighted. “Come on up here, Richard,” he says enthusiastically. Richard hauls himself to his feet. Trainor drapes one arm over his shoulder.

“So, Richard,” he begins. “Let’s say you’re with a woman you’re just getting to know. A woman you’re interested in . . . romantically.”

Everyone suddenly bursts out laughing. Matt Trainor looks confused, until he sees where they’re looking. He and Richard pivot and catch Haley pointing to herself with both hands. She stops when they turn, winking suggestively and giving Richard a little wave. Trainor shakes his head ruefully and returns to the crowd, playing along with her.

“Tell me, Richard, with such a woman”—he tilts his head in Haley’s direction; more laughter—“how do you know when it’s the right time to . . . make your move?” He lowers his voice dramatically.

The audience waits.

“Depends on the situation,” Richard says. Weak answer, he knows. But hey, it does.

Trainor tries again. “Let’s say you want to kiss her,” he says. “How would you know if the feeling is mutual?”

“I guess body language,” Richard says. “Like, if we’re already touching? Holding hands, or sitting next to each other. You just kind of know if the moment is right.”

Behind them, they hear Haley make this high--pitched, breathy “oooohhh” sound. They turn to see that this time she’s collapsed on the couch in a fake faint, a smile on her face, hands clutched to her chest.

The audience loves it.

Richard redirects his gaze to Trainor. “If she swoons, that’s also a good sign,” Richard says, deadpan. “Although you want to wait until she wakes up before you kiss her.”

“Totally,” someone shouts from Carrie’s corner. Richard wills himself not to look in that direction.

“What about just asking?” Trainor says. “Why not say, ‘Can I kiss you?’ ”

Richard squinches his face, puckering his lips like he tastes something sour. “I don’t know. Kind of messes with the mood. Seems awkward.”

This is exactly the opening Matt Trainor was hoping for.