If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

She laughs wildly. “I wish my life was that scandalous.”

I cringe a little. If she only knew.

“No, she got wind from some gossip blog that we were headed to New York for filming, and she took the overnight train from Chicago to New York and showed up at our hotel the morning of the fashion show challenge.”

“Ho-ly sh—”

“I know. I was a little bit freaked out but also weirdly endeared by the whole thing. Who doesn’t love a grand gesture?”

“How did she even find you in the city?”

“Her brother is a concierge at the St. Regis. There is not a New York City question he can’t answer or find the answer to. Admittedly, as a librarian I find concierge back channels deeply sexy.”

“That is so very specific.”

“Mmmm.” She moans dramatically. “That sexy, sexy information.”

I nearly choke on a chunk of mango as I snort out a laugh. “Okay, so what exactly did your ex say?”

“She said she’ll be waiting.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, when we left this morning, she was still in my bed.” She bites down on her bottom lip.

I gasp and shoot up right to my feet so I’m hovering above her, standing on the beach bed. “Stacy! You naughty, naughty librarian!”

She hides her face in her hands, and her squeal of excitement turns into a groan.

I sink back down to my knees. “Are you freaking out?”

She nods wordlessly.

“Does it feel like your insides are screaming?” I ask like a doctor listing off possible symptoms.

“God, yes. And the thing is, I haven’t gone on a solo date yet. Chloe hasn’t either. We’re definitely the next to go. Top three is without a doubt you, Sara Claire, and Addison. But I just didn’t want to be the girl who left because of her ex. The internet would slut shame me the same way they are doing with Anna.”

“Oh no,” I say. “Did your ex say if it was bad?”

She nods. “Taylor said the Twitter buzz was harsh.”

Selfishly, I nearly ask her what she’s heard about me. The bits of information I’ve received from Beck have only made me hungry for more, but Stacy is a woman in crisis.

“Anyway,” she says, “back to you and Henry. It’s pretty obvious that you two are all moony for each other.”

I make a scoffing noise. Nothing here is obvious. Trying to decipher who has genuine feelings and who doesn’t is harder than scoping out a fake pair of Louboutins from two blocks away. Even Addison, who is absolutely batshit, might be acting the way she is because she’s lovesick. There’s no way to know for sure.

“Did you hear Sara Claire on the way here?” she asks. “She sat there the whole time making a pros-and-cons list, trying to talk herself into falling for Henry. He’s not even her type!”

“How do you know her type?” I ask. “Her type could be Stanley Tucci for all we know.”

“Actually,” Stacy says, “Stanley Tucci is everyone’s type.”

I nod in solidarity. “Amen.”

“But really, Sara Claire’s type is a guy who grills. And wants to take care of a pool and wears cowboy boots with tuxedos.”

“Henry probably owns a grill,” I say.

She arches a single brow. “But does he introduce himself as the grill master to guests? Important distinction.”

I shake my head. “No, definitely not.”

“You two make sense.”

Thrill pulses through me at that. Henry and I could make sense. Someone else sees it.

“It’s, like, the most fashionable happily-ever-after. TV gold and IRL gold. But that’s not what’s important. Do you like him? It really seems like it.”

I lie back on my side and face her with my hands tucked under my cheek. “I…sometimes I feel like I don’t even know him, and other times I feel so in sync with him that I could predict the next word out of his mouth. But when we’re…” I hesitate for a moment before deciding not to tell her we’ve been alone together. I know I can trust Stacy, but being on this show has me feeling like I can never be sure of my footing. “When we’re simpatico, it’s like when you meet someone new and you should be freaked out by how much you like them, but you’re too in it to care.”

“What would you do if he proposed at the end of all this?”

It’s a possibility. And happens more often than not during the finale. I can’t imagine saying no, but I can’t see myself saying yes either. Everything around me seems to be shifting. I graduated. I moved. Erica moved. I was creatively blocked for so long, and I can feel something in my brain becoming slowly unstuck. Like all this frenetic movement has forced something loose. And now this new possible future with Henry and a real chance for us to get to know each other in the real world.

But despite all that, there’s some kind of hesitation in the pit of my stomach. A shadow of guilt for moving on to this next phase of my life without Mom and Dad. In many ways, college felt like an extension of high school, but that’s gone now, and I’m not a child anymore.

I shake my head finally. “I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want it to end.”

“Oof.” She laughs.

“Oof is right.”