His words are still ringing in my ears from earlier. Let’s get this over with.
Over with. The way you do chores. Or hospital paperwork. Like I’m a dirty pot that you’ve just got to knuckle down and take care of before the fruit flies show up.
Very romantic.
Maya stands, smoothing down her dress. She’s got that mischievous look. The one that means she’s about to do something that will make me want to crawl under the furniture and die.
“Okay, okay!” She claps her hands and the chatter dies. “That was fun, right? But now”—she pauses for dramatic effect, because she’s Maya and everything must be done with flair—“we’re going to do something a little different.”
Here we go.
“Let’s see who’s got what it takes to become the next newlyweds!” She’s practically bouncing. I’d like to mention that this was all her idea, by the way. The whole dragging unwilling participants into the spotlight with you. Not my idea of fun. “We’re getting other couples in on this!”
The room goes wild. There’s cheering. And whooping. Actual whooping. Tyler’s girlfriend squeals so loud I think my eardrums might actually rupture.
Maya grabs the basket I prepped earlier and tucked under her seat—wicker, lined with tissue paper, filled with name cards of every couple here. She reaches in without looking. Dramatic pause.
Please not us. Please not us. Please not?—
“Lauren and Brad!”
Thank You, God.
Lauren—blonde, perfect highlights, probably has never had a bad hair day in her life—squeals and drags her boyfriend to the center. I recognize him from the meet-and-greet party and the Blue Ox team roster. Brad’s laughing, shaking his head like he already knows this is going to be a disaster.
They’re pulling up chairs. Setting up. Everyone’s laughing.
Maybe we’re safe. Maybe Maya will pick another couple, and we can just watch and?—
Derek takes the basket.
Oh…no.
His hand pauses inside. Fishing around. He pulls out a card.
Unfolds it.
His eyes meet mine.
And there’s something in his expression—calculating, testing—like he’s waiting to see if we’ll pass whatever test he’s set up.
“Brody and Chloe.”
Of course.
Of course.
The room absolutely loses it. Cheering. Whistling. Someone shouts, “Let’s go, Candy!” And I’m going to die. Right here. We’re in deep…deep trouble.
I know it’s not right to pray for God to help you lie…but I’m half tempted to toss a prayer up for good measure.
Brody’s hand finds the small of my back. The touch sends electricity up my spine, jumpstarts my racing heart.
His voice is low next to my ear. “You okay?”
I nod because what else am I supposed to do? Say no? Explain that I’m legitimately having a minor panic attack because we’re about to be tested on how well we know each other? Our get-to-know-you date was cut short because of his dad’s hospital visit. Give a girl a break!
We make our way to the center.
