Matched

by Angela Graham

  So I sit beside Jasmine on the couch.

  “Peyton, Callie, have you reached a decision?” Tom asks as they finish whispering between themselves and nod at our host. Callie’s slipping me a subtle chin up and conspiratorial grin.

  “We have,” Peyton says for them both. “Callie and I might not have had quite as much fun as Court and—”

  He doubles over with a grunt, Callie having elbowed him ever-so-not-gently in the ribs in the nick of time. Emma will be informed tactfully—privately.

  With his breath back, he goes on. “After some final conferring with my lovely partner,” he says, grinning at Callie, “we’ve decided to send in Ivy…” He pauses so he can enjoy her gasp. Jasmine exhales one of her own and nudges my arm.

  “Wait for it. It gets so much better,” I say with a snicker.

  With his gaze still locked on Ivy, Peyton fires the kill shot with a brilliant beam. “And Wyatt.”

  “Wait, what?” Ivy stomps her foot and shrills—I think perhaps trying to speak to the dolphins outside. “But I blew Court. Wrong brother, dipshits!”

  Bathroom mystery solved. It wasn’t as bad as we thought, and so very classy. I don’t know Court very well, but I’m still itching to slap him upside the head…if he was in the room, that is.

  I turn my whole body to look out the glass doors that lead to the pool and come up empty again. He’s nowhere to be seen…and now that I’m taking roll, neither is Emma.

  Huh. Wonder how they got to skip? Or what they’re doing…and whether they’re doing it together.

  “Movie premieres before this show, right?” Peyton confirms with Tom, regaining my attention. Our host assures him that’s correct, and Peyton’s smug joy now splits his face wide open. I do my best to listen, squirming to send out the search party the moment he’s finished.

  “Ivy, if everyone you have, would, or have tried to sleep with was your soulmate, the show would already be over. No guy in the house or north of the equator is unscathed by those requirements. Helpful tidbit? When he takes you into the very romantic ambience of a public restroom and comes out looking bored, he’s not your one. So although you make it difficult to narrow down, we figure the other biggest whore here—besides Nadia of course, whom you can’t match with—is Wyatt.”

  “Holy shit,” Jasmine mumbles beside me. I tame my laughter, giving her a told ya it was good look.

  “Well, then. Ivy, please go get your safe, and Wyatt, your key.” Tom looks as shocked as the rest of the people just finding out. Peyton’s loathing for Ivy obviously runneth deep, and in light of her shenanigans tonight—selfishly jeopardizing their movie, careers, and commitment to their images—the dam has finally collapsed.

  I twist my neck toward the sound of someone entering the room and find Emma walking in, her arms crossed and face hard. She stops beside her brother, an unreadable but fixed gaze piercing into mine. I jerk my head back to face forward and sneak a sidelong peek at Oakley, who’s having a conversation with Nadia. It’s innocent-looking enough, but stings all the same.

  “You two know the drill. Wyatt, use your key and open the lady’s safe,” Tom instructs. Wyatt chuckles, his dirty thoughts no doubt running rampant on the many ways he could play off that verbiage.

  You can almost hear the chorus of anxious unity as everyone leans forward, their eyes glued to the lock. The next sound’s heard loud and clear. The tumbler turns over, and the door to the safe swings open! Cheers erupt while Ivy races from the room, sobbing.

  “Don’t take it personal, Wyatt. She’s not crying ’cause it’s you—she’s upset about all the lost airtime,” Peyton says, patting him on the back.

  “Yeah, like I care,” Wyatt retorts, picking up Ivy’s safe. “We get tickets, right?”

  Tom perks up. “Yes! Reach inside there for two tickets to a destination you both listed and ranked closest in priority. And let’s not forget the most important part, $10,000 for each of your charities!”

  “Mine goes to my brother, Court.” His voice softens as he looks around—I’m assuming for his sibling—then drops his head. Is this the first sign he’s possibly capable of actual emotions? This one looks a lot like shame, but for what—screwing around with Emma? My head throbs from the clusterfuck of that whole situation.

  “Anyway,” Wyatt says, clearing his throat, “he’ll know what to do with it. So, when do we leave?”

  Tom checks his paper. “We’ll send you over to a hotel across the island for some special time together until your flight at 8 a.m. tomorrow. Safe travels, and thank you for being here.” They shake hands. “Everyone else, say your goodbyes, have a great night, and I’ll see you tomorrow for your next mini challenge.”

  I stand, once again checking Oakley’s status. It’s a new, tiresome habit. After three sweeps over the room, I realize he’s not in here. His elusiveness is almost as aggravating as it is draining. Are we speaking tonight, or shall I just take a soak in the giant whirlpool tub upstairs and read?

  “He’s on the back deck.” Callie walks over, reading my mind. “Yes, she’s there too, but so is Peyton. He told me he has a notebook, so he can track who could or definitely doesn’t match. He wants to strategize with Oakley—especially now, with the curveball you threw him.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Nadia’s quite the statistician,” I snipe. “I’m going to relax and read. Great job on the pick, though! Night.” I start to leave, feeling off.

  “Enjoy, and good call!” she yells after me. “I’ll go out. Quit worrying!”

  I’m ambling to my room when I can’t help but notice Court sitting on his bed, hunched over, bracing his head in his hands. I should keep cruising—my internal alarm’s telling me so—but since I rarely listen to it anymore, why start now?

  “Hey.” I strive for casual joviality as I intrude, closing the door quietly behind me.

  He looks up, his eyes solemn and frown deep. “Hey. You need somethin’?”

  I shake my head and dare to creep closer. “Can I sit a minute?” I point to his bed, and he scoots over.

  “Sure.”

  With a deep inhale, I open up. “Your brother’s leaving.”

  “I heard.”

  “You gonna miss him?”

  “Nope.”

  That was a pretty quick reply. And judging by the rigidity in his frame and the fact he and Emma were mysteriously absent from the Soul Search at the same time, I have an inkling they both know all. So I put it out there. “’Cause he made out with Emma?”

  “Not my business,” he sulks, his fingers running through his hair as he straightens and faces me. “What do you want, Harlow?” he asks impatiently, though not in anger. “We rarely talk, and considerin’ Emma just swore she’d never speak to me again, I’m guessin’ you’re not in here for her. So just spit it out already. I’m exhausted.”

  “Fine. Did you ever have feelings for Em, or did you just like all the attention she gave you?”

  His frown deepens, and his head drops again. There’s a long, heavy pause before I hear him mumble, “Yeah, I liked her. Still fuckin’ do.”

  “Then why Ivy, or anyone else you may have screwed around with here?”

  He looks back up slowly, his fiery gaze locking on mine. “You know how perfect Emma is. She’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. I didn’t want to hurt her.”

  My mouth drops open. I’m dazed by his backwards reasoning. “Um, you do realize her hearing about you fooling around with Ivy hurt her, right?”

  His fists slam into the mattress, startling me. He’s on his feet quickly, pacing the room.

  “I know! Shit, I know!” he howls, his body shaking with vehemence. “Damn it. I never thought I had an actual chance with her. That girl’s everything I could ever want and more, but I have nothin’ to offer her.” He stops, and his tormented expression compels me to listen and understand. “I’m on the road more often than not, livin’ out of hotel rooms and trailers, puttin’ myself at risk every time I climb in the chute and grip that rope. No w
ay I want to drag her into my way of life. She deserves some rich exec that can give her a perfect little family and a white picket fence in the burbs. She deserves better than the best…sweet lil’ thing.”

  “You ever ask her what she wants? ’Cause I’m pretty sure she’s familiar with your lifestyle—especially considering her brother’s career.”

  He groans, swiping a hand across his chin. “Yeah, that’s the other thing…her brother. No way in hell he’ll let me near her, and definitely not now. I fucked up—shoulda told her I was interested and stopped foolin’ around with Ivy. And now look—she made out with my own brother!”

  “She was hurt. You have to try and understand that. She doesn’t want Wyatt any more than I want her around him—no offense—and he’s gone now. Emma’s sick of not being heard, so she made sure to make her point. Desperate times, desperate measures, I guess.”

  “I get it. Kills me, but I do! And I can get over it—hell, Ivy was just a pathetic substitute for me too—but Emma’s made it clear any chance we mighta had is gone. Might as well pack up now, ’cause nobody else in this house is worth my goddamned time. I’ll donate my own cash to my charity, but I can’t stay here if she’s not even talkin’ to me.”

  I’m searching for what else to say, but I trust my gut instincts and they’re telling me this is a good guy who deserves another chance to make things right. He messed up and so did she, but if he’s willing to fight for her, then I’ll do what I can to help.

  “So you’re done fooling around with the other girls in the house?”

  He looks downright appalled. “You not hearin’ what I’ve been sayin’? It’s only Emma. But don’t waste your time. It’s over.” He reaches down and grabs a duffel from under his bed.

  “No, it’s not.” I yank the bag from his hands and shove it back away. “You want her? Then make it right. Prove yourself to her. And if you can do that and give me your word you’ll never intentionally hurt her ever again, then I’ll help keep Cruz off your back. Deal?” I hold out my hand.

  His eyes light up, determination glazing over them as he nods and shakes my hand. “Deal.”

  “Great. Now get some rest, ’cause she’s proven she can be pretty stubborn, so you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

  I walk to the door and have just opened it when I hear him add, “She’s worth it.”

  I couldn’t agree more.

  I’m bent over, digging out clean clothes for my bath when Cruz walks in and bounces up onto his bunk. “Man, that was something, huh? Them pulling Wyatt outta the air like that. Same night Emma did whatever with him, too. Crazy coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Peyton’s keeping stats,” I answer robotically, distracted. Where are my bath salts?

  “Right,” Cruz drags out, telling me with his tone that the jig is up. “They’re in the bottom drawer of your nightstand. You put ’em there ’cause they spilled in your bag, remember?”

  Slowly, I lift my head to look at him. “Hey Cruz?”

  “Hey yeah?”

  “You’re a bit creepy. Tell me how you knew both those things before I freak out.”

  “Well,” he begins, his drawl patronizing, “I room with you, and was in said room when they spilled. You griped and put them in the drawer. And since you’re about to take a bath and obviously missing an integral item, I took a stab at it.” He laughs.

  “And how’d you know the other thing?”

  “What other thing?”

  “That I got them to send in Wyatt.” I throw my arms out to the side with an exasperated sigh. I’m not in the mood to banter for the sake of banter tonight.

  “I didn’t know. Had a hunch, is all…until you just told me.” He tries to silence his pleased chuckle but fails.

  “You…ugh.” I give up, grabbing my stuff and beginning to tread heavily from the room.

  “Regardless of how I confirmed it…thank you, Harlow,” he says as I reach the doorway.

  I stop and look back. “You’re welcome.”

  “It’s only going to get harder from here on out, especially for you. People are weasels—something you know nothing about. If I can return the favor, you let me know.”

  I nod and give him a tiny smile. “Will do.”

  He’s only half right, though. It’s already harder.

  Confessional: Court Callahan

  “Hey out there. Gotta be honest, I’m not a fan of this booth. But I figured I might as well come in now that I actually have somethin’ worth talkin’ about.

  “My brother just left for the hotel—with Ivy of all people—and I’ll admit, I’m not that surprised. I know everyone’s talkin’ about what’s goin’ on between me and her, but the truth is she was just a good time when I got bored or horny. Should I be admittin’ that on national TV? Probably not, but tonight I want to make it clear to the world—and more importantly, to the one girl here I know I hurt—that I’m sorry.

  “I’m not gonna fire off cop-out excuses. I did it, I own it, and I apologize. I didn’t sleep with her, though. Did. Not. Happen.

  “As for Wyatt, will I miss him? I don’t know. He’s good to have around and he’s my brother, but I knew somethin’ was up with him when I got home tonight. Saw it written all over his face, the familiar ‘I fucked up,’ can’t-look-me-in-the-eye bullshit I’ve seen a million times before. Honestly, my first thought was that he pissed Adam off, or even Oakley by makin’ a pass at Harlow, but makin’ out with Emma? Never saw that shit comin’. The girl’s never made a single move on a guy here before, and I leave for a few hours and she’s in a bedroom with my brother.

  “He swears she was all over him, but I couldn’t listen to it. I needed to find Emma, and when I did, she laid it all out. She knew all about me and Ivy mackin’ some, and what the hell could I say? ‘I hate you because you made out with my brother while I was gettin’ my dick sucked by a chick you despise?’ Don’t think that woulda helped. I did tell her, though, about the blowjob. Yes, I’m an idiot, but I’m an honest idiot. And as long as we were comin’ clean, why not get it over with?

  “So now I’m basically fucked, but thanks to Harlow I’m gonna stick it out and see if I can make things right. Cruz will be up my ass, but let him bring it. I’ve had plenty of time to get to know Emma, so I’m more than certain she’s the one for me. Time to prove it to her.

  “Look out, America. ’Bout to show you how it’s done!”

  Chapter 15

  It’s mini-challenge morning, and I’m surly. Oakley never came to me last night. No “I’m sorry” or “Can we talk?” No “Goodnight.” So now I’m hunting him down before we’re due on the beach for some demeaning game I don’t want to play, surrounded by frustrating people with cruel words and nasty agendas.

  It doesn’t take much searching to find Oakley, who’s in his room. Callie exits quickly without being asked the moment I step inside.

  “Hey,” I mutter, watching as he laces up his sneakers.

  “Hey,” he replies to his shoes, not to be bothered with any type of real acknowledgement.

  Is this really happening? He’s shutting me out?

  Unsure of where to start, I dive in headfirst. “What’s going on between us, Oakley? You said nothing would change.” A sob bubbles in my throat. “Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

  He sighs and finally looks up. “My Harlow would never get on me in front of a group of people—and especially for another guy, who just so happened to have licked her body! That’s my body! So you tell me who’s changing.” He raises a brow, pinning the blame on me.

  “Are you serious?” I’m about to go all the way off as I throw my arms out to the side, bamboozled by how many ways I think he’s wrong. “Oakley, he licked me for a game, on the show you brought me on, while you were licking another girl! Surely you can see the hypocrisy in that logic!”

  He shrugs a shoulder, and an actual growl rips from my throat. “And again, I. Was. Defending. Emma. But you, egging him on to kick someone’s ass? What the hel
l was that about? My Oakley wouldn’t provoke violence.” My head droops; I’m weary and disheartened. “I gotta be honest, it was a very ugly side of you—one that we should’ve discussed last night rather than let further distance build between us.”

  Oakley leaps to his feet, and I flinch at the anger radiating off his powerful frame. “You wanted me to come to your room—his room—and talk?” He scoffs. “Get real.”

  “No, you could’ve crossed the Great Room and talked with me then, rather than Peyton and Nadia on the patio! How’s that one my fault?”

  The intercom crackles to life with a “Fifteen minutes till challenge” warning, and I know this conversation’s going to end in futile frustration if I don’t lay it all on the line right now.

  He runs his hands through his short hair. “Listen, we both made mistakes. Let’s just cool down and talk after the challenge, all right?” He gives me a half-hearted smile of appeasement, which unfortunately has the opposite effect.

  “No.” My head shakes frantically. “I can’t keep burying my head in the sand. We both know there’s something deeper going on here.” I step closer and cup his face, needing to convey the importance of this conversation and how much I love him, now and always, as I allow the truth to tumble out. “We’re not kids anymore, Oak. I’m so much more than your innocent, doting cheerleader now. I want things—for us, but for me too. Do you understand?”

  The warm bristle of tears drowns my vision, but there’s no mistaking the pain scrolling behind his somber eyes.

  He yanks himself away, putting even more insurmountable distance between us. “So what then, huh?” he snips.

  A long pause divides us, but I dare to say the words that come out in a crippled whisper.

  “I think we should take a break.”

  “A break? Christ!” His pulls at his hair further, frustration overpowering any possible trace of compassion or a solution that I long to hear in his voice.

  I step closer again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Oakley. Tell me you really believe we’re soulmates, and that we just need some time to get to know each other again—that I’ll complete you in every way if we get married, while still being true to myself.” Sobs escape as I plea louder, grasping his hands in mine. “Tell me you want me to be more than happy at your side, successful and independent in my own right—that you love me even though I can’t be your cheerleader every day. Because I can’t, Oakley. I’m not a teenager anymore. I want my own things in life, a career, a man who’s as proud of me as I am of him, and…” I suck in a deep breath. “Someday, I’m gonna want babies—maybe two or three, I don’t know—but I need you to be honest with me…with yourself.”