In a New York Minute(17)

I reminded myself that I was on TV and forced a tight smile onto my face. This was almost over. I could hang in for a few more minutes. I just needed to silence the alarm bells ringing out their “He must think you’re a complete mess” tune on repeat in my brain. I went searching for something to focus on, and my mind traveled back in time to that moment his fingers pressed against my bare hip, and how even in that frantic moment they’d triggered something else in me. Something that had felt a lot like desire.

Hayes cleared his throat. “I just saw someone in need and offered to help.”

Jenna gave him a bright, adoring grin in return. “A true knight in a shining suit of armor comes to the rescue,” she said, cracking herself up as Pete guffawed next to her.

“I really appreciated that Ho—” I thankfully caught myself before the words Hot Suit came out of my mouth. “That Hayes stepped in to help.”

“And so now you’re known on the internet as ‘SubwayQTs,’” Pete said with an eager grin.

“Yes, but that couldn’t be further from the truth,” I interjected quickly. The last thing I needed was Hot Suit thinking I was pining after him like some damsel in distress.

Hayes turned to me, eyes narrowed. For a brief second, I thought he seemed annoyed by my comment, but then he nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “We don’t even know each other.”

“We’re definitely not ‘QTs,’” I added, shaking my head. “And it’s so not okay for someone to make up a whole story about us like that. I appreciate his help. But the person who took those pictures of us, and the reporters who wrote all the news stories, made up this whole ridiculous romance for us. Like he swooped in and rescued me and we fell in love in two seconds.”

Hayes crossed and uncrossed his long legs, and when I looked back at his face, his cheeks were flushed pink.

“Hayes, you agree?” Pete asked, leaning forward.

“I do. It’s completely unacceptable to post photos of people online without their knowledge.”

“And did Franny need rescuing?” Jenna asked.

“I mean, from what I saw, yes.” He said this nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shifting in his seat. The double entendre, intended or not, was met with loud chuckles from Pete and Jenna, and Hayes’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. He shot me an awkward look and then quickly averted his eyes.

I gritted my teeth in a tight smile. “Like I said, there were other people trying to help too,” I chimed in. I was grateful for what Hot Suit had done, but the message they were hammering home, that I was desperate for this guy’s help, was beyond irritating. “A woman offered me her hair clip, which would have probably done the trick.”

Hayes raised his brows, and that blush from earlier was gone, replaced with a cocky smirk. He was laughing. Laughing at me, at what I’d said. “I saw…you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “And I don’t think a hair clip could have helped the situation.”

And just like that, my gratitude was gone. Just who did this guy think he was, anyway?

“Your story was followed by hundreds of thousands of people online who were sure they saw sparks fly between the two of you,” Jenna said.

“That’s very flattering,” I started.

“I’m sure Ms. Doyle is very nice,” Hayes said, his voice low and firm. “But we…I’m…sure she’s not my type.”

My eyes tried to roll up and out of my head. Not his type? What kind of arrogant troll says that in front of millions of people on TV?

“Nor would I be hers, either. That’s what I meant to say.” He tried, unsuccessfully, to recover from the low blow he had just lobbed at me. “Whatever sparks people saw were all made up by the person who posted those photos of us online.”

“Well, we’ll let our audience decide if they’re seeing sparks today! Franny,” Pete said, shifting gears, “what’s next for you?”

“Job searching, I assume?” Jenna leaned forward, perked up by the change of topics. She surely didn’t mean it to sound belittling, but just the question alone made me feel small, a tiny puddle next to Hayes’s waterfall of success. And then there was my mom, already texting me about jobs when I’d barely been unemployed for longer than a minute. I hated the mix of imposter syndrome and fear of letting people down that was churning inside me. So I opened my mouth.

“Actually, I just started my own business!” My voice was chipper, my smile so wide the edges of my lips felt like they could touch my ears. “I’ve always wanted to strike out on my own. I love getting my hands dirty and being involved in all parts of designing a space. Helping people realize that their decor can really be a bigger reflection of who they are and what they love.”

“Girl!” Jenna’s hands flew up in the air in delighted surprise. “That’s amazing!”

“Thanks,” I said, and for a moment I felt wildly bold and self-assured, as if I were really doing this and not telling a lie on TV. “I just finished a job with a bathroom I’m obsessed with. It’s amazing what some truly great wallpaper can do to transform a room, especially one that’s mostly used for—you know.”

Thank god I somehow managed to stop myself before I said “pooping” on live TV.