Chapter 4: Let’s Fall in Love (and Trouble)

“5’5, wavy hair, small dimples, baby face, likes watching coconut unboxing...”

The host was sitting right between us, and from her angle, it was obvious—Carter just described exactly how I looked today. He was only missing my Social Security number.

She grinned and turned to me:

“If you had to pick a boyfriend, would you go for the golden retriever type, the rich CEO, or Carter—the mysterious, aloof type?”

Carter leaned in, totally unbothered. The answer was obvious.

“Only kids make choices. Adults want all three.”

As soon as I said it, the comments blew up:

“Okay, Marissa, you win!”

“Damn, Marissa, you’re showing off harder than Gordon Ramsay at a cook-off!”

“No wonder Marissa likes coconut unboxing—she’s got all the handsome guys on her mind!”

The host gave me a wounded look, and the whole energy in the room dropped. I shot Carter a sheepish grin, but he just stared at the floor, jaw set.

After the broadcast, hashtags like #MarissaBigCoconutEnergy, #MarissaWantsAllThree, #MarissaIsAnAdult trended on Twitter. That night, paparazzi snapped Carter with returning Oscar-winner Savannah Lane. Twitter celeb @SpillTheTea posted a big scoop:

“No wonder he’s hyping a ship with Marissa—turns out it’s to provoke the returning tragic first love!”

For a while, #SavannahLaneCarterReedReunion trended above my funny hashtags, totally dominating the conversation. Unsurprisingly, my ship with Carter Reed died before it even set sail. Ouch.

Agent Tracy called and scolded me for over an hour, sounding more like a disappointed mom than an agent.

“Look, Carter already gave you an out—all you had to do was go with the flow and our ship would have been a done deal!”

I flopped onto my bed, phone on speaker, staring at the ceiling while Tracy ranted. “It’s not like I could control the narrative, Tracy,” I mumbled, but she was already off on another tangent.

“But Tracy, if you had to choose between a golden retriever, a rich CEO, and Carter as a boyfriend, who would you pick?”

“What else could I pick? Of course—ALL IN!”

What can I say? I’m only human. After I said that, Tracy figured it out too. She’s sharp—always thinking about how to make the next move. After I single-handedly tanked the Carter ship, she decided to ride the #ShowbizCoconutSpirit trend for me—the new persona being “I love everyone.”

I could practically hear her rubbing her hands together, plotting. “We’ll ride this wave, Marissa. Trust me, it’s going to be hilarious.”

“Is this really okay?” I asked Tracy, not quite convinced.

“Okay! Why not? You just made the same mistake every girl makes.”

She handed me another variety show notice. I looked at the name—wow, “Brothers of All Kinds.” Sounds like chaos waiting to happen.

She winked, “Just don’t let anyone open coconuts this time.”

And it got even wilder. Soon, Tracy grabbed my phone and started an eight-person group chat. As soon as I joined, I was bombarded with “sis” voice messages. Who would’ve thought—while I was still struggling with my feelings, after Tracy’s move, I was suddenly full of energy!

The group chat was pure chaos: memes, inside jokes, even a poll on who had the best hair. I hadn’t laughed that hard in weeks.

Who knew, before the “Coconut Spirit of Showbiz” persona could even take off, before I could enjoy being surrounded by guys, Carter posted on Twitter.

@CarterReed: We went to college together, but we’re not close. Just to clarify, so my future girlfriend @Marissa doesn’t get the wrong idea.

Carter was already a household name, and as the person involved, this post got tens of thousands of comments in ten minutes and went viral. The comments were out of control:

“@SnarkySpear: Bro, you’re bold!”

“@GrandpaGunslinger: The main character comes to break up the ship!”

“@SassFace: Told you, this is a real couple. Gets jealous, goes crazy, clears rumors in time to reassure his girlfriend!”

In front of the screen, Tracy and I just stared at each other, stunned.

“Tracy, what do we do?” I licked my lips and quietly left the hype brothers group. My heart was pounding.

“You’ve got it bad. You need an intervention.”

She tossed a throw pillow at me, but her eyes were sparkling. “You better get ready for the next round, superstar.”

Tracy worked fast, checked my schedule, and called Carter’s producer. Soon, my schedule changed from a single aristocrat show with seven men and one woman to a three-men, three-women couple reality show. A couple show—I was going on a couple show with Carter. No pressure.

My phone blew up with notifications, and even my cousin in Wisconsin texted, “You and Carter on TV together? Spill!”

Before bed, I got a Facebook message from Carter:

“Good night, hope you sleep well.”

Just a simple message, but it had me feeling guilty until well past midnight. At 3:30 a.m., I was biting my blanket, totally lovesick. I’m so gone for this guy, I can’t even think straight. With him doing this, even if he’s just using me as a shield to annoy Savannah Lane, I almost don’t care anymore.

A week before the couple show, Carter was busy but still kept sending me little messages. Sometimes it was a photo of a puppy on set, sometimes a riverbed pebble with a cool pattern, sometimes a shot of the sky at sunset. Even though he wasn’t by my side, it felt like he was sharing the world’s beauty with me. Longing is like the wind—when it comes, it sweeps across the waiting fields, and suddenly everything’s growing, even the weird little shoots called love.

Every time my phone buzzed with a new message, my chest fluttered. It was silly, but I started saving his pictures in a secret album labeled “Joy.”

On the day “Let’s Fall in Love” started, Carter showed up with his hair dyed bright red. When he walked onto the set, he looked like a walking flame. A director who knew him cracked a joke:

“Why’d Carter decide to dye his hair? Honestly, this style looks pretty cool.”

“I just felt like it. Red’s my favorite.”

Carter’s chat with the director was streamed by the tech crew, and viewers immediately caught on:

“CJ, you’re making me cry!”

“Marissa said you like red, so you dyed your hair red for her answer, right?”

“Being this lovesick is usually embarrassing, but on you it’s just plain charming!”

Carter walked up to me, lowered his head, leaned close to my ear, and whispered:

“Do you like it?”

Even with the AC blasting, when Carter spoke, a wave of warmth washed over me. I froze for a second, didn’t react. Carter thought I hadn’t heard and repeated:

“Do you like my hair color?”

“Yes,” I nodded, probably a little too eagerly.

“Like?” Carter bent down, looking into my eyes. “If you like it, why not say something nice?”

As he said this, sunlight streamed through the glass onto his head. That fiery hair color glowed with a golden halo. For a second, he looked like a devil with an angel’s halo—mischievous, dangerous, and irresistible.