Shut Up and Kiss Me (Happy Endings 2)

“Every last one,” I say. That’s how it goes with friends.

“That’s very good to know,” the cheery blonde says, and I bet in three, two, one, she’ll ask him out.

I’ve seen this happen a thousand times before. I’m chill with it. So’s Nancy.

Marie steps in front of me, her body language cutting me out of the scene. Okay, Marie. Message received.

“So, Nolan. Do you want to grab a coffee later?” she asks him with a twirl of her hair.

I inch away and out from under his arm, since, whatever. He’s cute; ladies like him. I’m not territorial.

But even though I’m giving him space, I know his jam, and I mouth along as he answers her with a gee-whiz smile. “Wow, I appreciate the offer, Marie, but we’ve got to edit this episode. You wouldn’t want me to miss posting it, would you, now?”

The man is good. He turns women down with so much honey in his voice it feels like a sugary compliment.

Some men are just talented like that.

“Of course I don’t want you to miss posting,” Marie says.

Ironic, since he’s not the one who posts the videos. I am.

“Be sure to watch, though. We always try to include the audience shots. We love our viewers.”

She giggles. “I love you, Nolan.” Then, she peels away, beelining for the door.

“Love you too, Marie,” I call out nicely since, sometimes, I’m secretly a dick.

“I’m sure she thinks you’re great too,” Nolan whispers near my ear.

“Oh yes, I’m so sure it was me she was loving on when she watched alone.”

After we gather our bags and gear, we thank Harriet for letting us shoot in her fabulously divey joint.

The sturdy woman in the “Don’t you dare kiss the chef” apron tuts. “I have you to thank. Business will be through the roof tomorrow. I already got triple the takeout orders in the last hour just from you posting you were shooting here.” Then, she lowers her voice. “And that was some slick handling of those are-you-together questions. I love how you two pretend you’re not a thing.”

I scoff. “We’re not. We’re definitely not.”

Nolan chuckles. “We’re just friends, like we said.”

Harriet winks. Twice. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

I don’t deny it again. People believe what they want to believe.

We head out onto the San Francisco street. “If only we could bottle their interest in us being together, we’d be rich,” I joke.

“Bottle it and sell that shit. We’d definitely hit the next level,” Nolan agrees, a note of longing in his voice.

I feel that longing deep in my chest. “We’ll get there,” I say, chin up.

The next level is a tough climb, though. Very few YouTubers make a decent living from web TV alone. But that’s our goal—for the show to support us. To pay off our loans. Even with a million viewers, we aren’t quite there yet.

We duck into a coffee shop a few blocks away, order some fuel, then set up a makeshift edit bay at a table. Once I have one macchiato in me and another close at hand, I edit with the kind of focus that would make a Nikon jealous. Meanwhile, Nolan is busy interacting with fans on social media.

An hour later, I spin my laptop around and show him the edit of today’s episode, complete with the audience shots he promised Marie.

Nolan blows on his fingernails. “Damn, Em. Why are you so good at literally everything?”

“That’s easy—YouTube,” I answer.

“Is there anything you haven’t taught yourself online?”

“Let’s see.” I count off on my fingers. “Learned how to edit videos, change a flat, juggle, and do a smoky eye. So, the answer is . . . no.”

Peering intensely through those Clark Kent glasses, he checks out my eyes. Flames lick my cheeks from his hot stare. “You mean that kind of sexy, smudged eyeliner look?”

I catch my breath. “Yes. But I didn’t do that today,” I mumble.

“I think you look good with smoky eyelids and without,” he says, his smile at full wattage.

I raise my deflector shield. I can’t let Nolan’s champion flirting get to me—or Nancy, for that matter. I’m all business as I say, “So, you’re good with the episode? Can we post it?”

“Fire it up, baby,” he says.

After I hit upload, I find him pointing at his computer screen like an animated character. “Whoa. Big news here. Like, super-big news.”

“YouTube loves us and sent us an offer to be on the home page for a week?” I guess. “Oh, wait, I know! An organic food-maker signed on for a sah-weet sponsorship deal that’ll change our lives?”

“Close. Very close. Try to control your excitement, but we did sell ten more Foodgasm T-shirts from our merch shop today,” he says.

“Don’t knock it. That helps. Every little bit does.”

“Too true. By my calculations, if we sell seven thousand five hundred T-shirts, I might be able to pay off my student loans,” he quips. But like most jokes, it contains a big kernel of truth.