Chapter 2: Coconut Wars and Shipwrecks

“This isn’t peeling an orange, it’s stirring my heart!”

“Damn! Hubby is so sexy!”

“CJ, I volunteer as tribute—peel me next!”

Ugh, I couldn’t even look.

I covered my mouth, trying not to laugh. Even the host had to turn away, fanning herself. “I need a cold drink,” she muttered.

Carter followed my gaze to the comments and handed me a plate of peeled orange slices. The comments exploded again:

“Can we trade places with Marissa?”

I took the plate, feeling every eye in the room on me. Those oranges tasted way sweeter than they had any right to—maybe it was nerves, maybe it was Carter.

After we introduced the product, the organizer set up a little game. Carter lost, so by the rules, I could make a small, reasonable wish. The comments started tossing out wild suggestions.

The suggestions were nuts: “Make Carter sing!” “Ask him to do the worm!” “Confess your love on air!” I tried not to laugh at the most ridiculous ones.

“Mr. Reed...”

“CJ,” Carter reminded me.

“CJ.” I licked my lips, rubbed my sweaty palms, and tried not to look like a total dork.

I could feel the anticipation in the room, the comments flying by so fast I couldn’t even read them. My hands were sweating. I glanced at the host for backup, but she just grinned wider.

“Marissa can’t possibly want Carter to feed her fruit by hand, right? That would be...”

The second the host and I spoke, the vibe did a total 180—from romance drama to full-on variety show. The chat was loving it.

“CJ, can you open a coconut with your bare hands?”

“Open a coconut?” the host yelped. “You want those pretty hands to crack open a coconut?”

Not just the host—the chat went wild:

“Elegant, too elegant. Marissa asking this is like Daisy Buchanan doing stand-up or Hulk Hogan doing ballet.”

“Sis, you’re my real sis! Such nice hands, not for holding hands, but for opening coconuts? Girl, what are you thinking?”

“I’m a coconut—pick me, CJ!”

People started roasting Carter too.

I couldn’t help it—I started giggling, covering my face with my hands. Carter just shot me a look that said, “You totally owe me for this.”

“Open... coconut?” Carter looked confused for a second, but he kept his movie-star smile. Under the surprised stares of the staff, he grabbed the biggest coconut he could find from the fruit basket. Maybe it was his first time and he didn’t know the trick, but his hands kept getting poked by the shell. Coconuts aren’t sharp, but man, they’re tough.

He gritted his teeth, trying to look cool, but I could see the strain. At one point, he muttered under his breath, “This is harder than my Oscar audition.”

By the time he cracked one open, Carter had scratched himself at least three times.

“Stop! My heart can’t take it!”

The coconut Carter opened was some fancy Hawaiian one. Looked amazing, but talk about disappointing—barely any coconut meat inside.

The comments couldn’t take it:

“Why is Marissa so fake—acting sweet, then making Carter do this? Wasn’t it you who wanted him to open the coconut?”

“Marissa is such a two-faced, fake nice girl. I’ll never ship this couple, even if you pay me.”

“Jealous much? If you don’t want to watch the couple being sweet, just close your eyes!”

The host caught on and started teasing:

“Marissa really knows how to take care of people...”

She hadn’t even finished when I grabbed a coconut and walked right up to the camera:

“Come on, come on, open my Key West coconut—plenty of coconut meat, barely any pit!”

Host:!

“God, stop opening, my heart can’t take it. Are you heartbroken for the coconut?”

“Marissa, you’re killing me! Why are you like this?”

“What is this, a coconut unboxing livestream?”

“I wasn’t even interested in Carter and Marissa as a couple, but watching Carter smiling at Marissa’s mischief, I’m totally shipping this now!”

“Mr. Reed, let me put the coconut away for you. Our livestream tech, Mike, will open it later—he’s a pro.”

The host tried to take away the coconut, but Carter pressed it down with a little smirk. “Marissa wants to see the coconut opened.”

He said it with a grin, and I could practically feel Carter’s fans shooting daggers at me from behind the cameras.

For a second, I could feel all those death stares aimed right at me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a Hello Kitty band-aid.