Emma Ever After: A feel-good romantic comedy with a hilarious modern re-telling of Jane Austen

He smelt like home.

***

There was an infinite number of women available to fake date the BOTP boys. But available didn’t add up to suitable.

Emma sighed, pushed her laptop off her legs onto the cushion beside her and flopped her head back to stare at the ceiling. It wasn’t only how suitable they were, it was how would she and the team build up the story of the relationship? All the traditional ways to hint at people being in ‘a relationship’, the photos of the couple coming out of numerous Starbucks or frozen yoghurt shops or even the wearing each other’s clothes and jewellery had been done to death thanks to Taylor Swift and Kendall Jenner. Now you had to be more inventive to get anyone to believe it was more than a convenient marketing opportunity.

Had she really spent her whole Sunday curled up on the sofa trying to set these relationships up? And she still didn’t feel any nearer a solution. Okay, so maybe Googling people and then checking out the shows they were in on Netflix wasn’t neurosurgery but it definitely counted as research and that was work, wasn’t it?

The front door slammed shut, disturbing her thoughts. She looked up to see a sweaty Gee in the doorway.

Post-run Gee might be one of her favourite versions of him. She watched as he did a few side stretches.

Damn, she should send a thank you letter to Nike for designing the low side cut vest he was wearing. A flash of damp chest made her hug her cushion closer. He hadn’t re-waxed, she thought, feeling relieved as she looked at the dusting of hair shading the dips and valleys of his six pack.

He wouldn’t need to give that Teen Choice award for Male Hottie back anytime soon.

She quickly turned her face to the television screen but didn’t see what she thought might be on it. She never won at poker.

‘What are we watching?’ He came over to her and tried to snatch the remote control. Lickable abs or not, she automatically grasped the remote harder and held it as far from him as she could. Ten years’ experience meant she knew his sneaky attack ways.

‘Ouch.’ Had he really just sat on her?

She looked up to see him sitting on her thighs, leaning over her to grab the remote. His tank top dipped and her nose almost brushed the dip of his collarbones.

Her mouth watered.

‘Gee, come on this is childish,’ she croaked.

He laughed, the sound vibrating through her.

And then he wiped his sweaty cheek against hers. Was it bad that even his clammy sweaty skin made her want to lean in?

She didn’t want to give up but she pushed the remote control at him, breathless.

‘Ha!’ He held it aloft like Excalibur.

‘You are a dick.’ She groused as she pushed him off her legs.

‘But you love me anyway,’ he said as he threw himself prone onto the other sofa and changed the channel.

She made a production of scrubbing her face with tissues, exactly where he’d wiped his sweaty cheek against hers. No need for him to know.

The theme tune to Teen Wolf came on. How the hell he’d managed to make it to his thirties without someone killing him, i.e. her, she wasn’t sure. He gave her whiplash.

It was going to be a long afternoon. And she still had to make her obligatory calls to the parents. She hoped Mum had dropped the Alps idea because she didn’t have the energy.

***

‘I can’t believe you sat on me…’ she said as the third episode of the werewolf show came on.

She could still feel the warm weight of Gee on her thighs almost three hours later. The light dimming outside as the days were getting shorter.

‘Hush, Ems…’ He waved a hand from the sofa.

‘You really only watch it for Sterek,’ Emma said mentioning the biggest ship on the show.

‘If I wanted my hit of Sterek, I’d be better off reading fan fiction. The writers have completely ruined it.’

She pulled her laptop back to her. She agreed with him. She made up much better and believable stories every day for work. She tried to filter out Gee’s muttering and egging on of the characters on the show.

Okay, she thought, Amit’s shortlist was done which was good. It had been pretty quick, and would probably hold up under some scrutiny from even the most eager fans. But Ed and Will, well, they were a pain. How could two guys cause so many issues before she’d even got them introduced to a woman?

Not that it was their fault. No, this was all on Si and whoever in Maple Groove Records had thought up their brand personas. She looked back at the thick booklet she had been given last week.

The narratives they’d built for Ed and Will were quite frankly childlike and two-dimensional. Any intern could’ve done a better job than this. With all the data and analytics, they could’ve done something revolutionary, but instead their insights sucked. They were stuck using tired boyband tropes and images that dated back to The Monkees.

And now, with social media showing every facet of their lives, fans could work out when things didn’t add up. They would be able to drive a truck through any narrative they created if they kept it this obvious. If you wanted to sell a story or a fauxmance you needed some element of truth. That was basic common sense when weaving any kind of tale.

She flicked to the section about Will. According to his brand guidelines, he was to be the normal bloke next door who liked footie and his supermodel girlfriend. But how did that appeal to his demographic, she thought. That would give him an in with a heterosexual male set, but they weren’t the ones buying BOTP merchandise or music. How was this supposed to appeal to teen girls? If that wasn’t a dichotomy she didn’t know what was. They should sack the record company insight team. They were probably all middle-aged white men who thought teen girls would accept any kind of dross… They needed to try harder. She flicked back to Will’s key attributes page. These bullet points were so far from the Will she’d met. Nope, he was no boy next door. Potential dictator, maybe. Troublemaker, definitely.