Dex soaks it in, smile spread wide. “Now, before we begin, I just want to say how honored I am to be your emcee tonight. Because if I were one of the contestants?” He pauses, hand to his chest. “None of these guys would stand a chance. We’d have to shut the game down for safety reasons.”
Cheers, whistles, laughter; all of it crashes together.
Dex grins. “Relax. Relax. I’m self-aware enough to know I’m a liability.” He leans closer to the mic. “Also, legally barred from participating.”
More laughter.
“Here’s how tonight works,” he continues. “I ask the questions, our lovely finalist, whose name will remain unknown until the end, gets a follow-up question at the end for each player, our contestants reveal just enough to be dangerous, and I do my absolute best not to get tackled by PR before the second round.”
He paces a step. “The gentlemen you’re about to hear are hidden behind a wall. No names. No faces. Just vibes. Which is how dating should be, honestly.”
Someone in the crowd shouts, “Yeah!”
“And gentlemen,” Dex adds, pointing toward the wall, “every word you say will be heard by thousands of people, several cameras, and at least one group chat you will never be allowed to leave.”
The crowd howls.
Dex claps once. “Everybody take a breath. Not you, Player Two. You came out of the womb calm.”
Laughter rolls across the stands, bouncing off the rafters, the crowd loud, loose, and fully caught up in the spectacle.
I sit on a tall stool behind the wall, feet planted, hands on my thighs like I’m waiting for a faceoff instead of a dating game. The mic sits neat against my collar.
The lights wash everything else out. No crowd. No her.
Just Dex on the small monitor in front of us, every move impossible to miss.
Dex’s voice cuts back in. “And now, finalist, go ahead and say hi to the fellas.”
And then I hear her.
“Hi.”
Just one word.
Clear. Steady. Unrushed.
It isn’t breathy. It isn’t playful. It’s professional in a way that suggests she knows exactly who she is and expects the room to catch up.
I don’t move. I don’t smile. I don’t lean in.
But something clicks anyway, sharp and unmistakable, like a switch I didn’t know was waiting to be flipped.
Dex clears his throat theatrically. “Alright! Our finalist is ready, and I am legally required to inform you that these questions have been reviewed by PR, legal, and a woman backstage who physically removed my energy drink.”
The crowd howls.
“For fairness,” Dex continues, “and because mystery is hot, our gentlemen tonight will be known only as Player One, Player Two, and Player Three. No names. No bios. No shirtless flexing.”
A woman somewhere in the stands shouts, “BOOOO! LET ‘EM FLEX!”
“Player One,” Dex adds brightly, “that last rule was for you.”
A laugh crackles through Player One’s mic.
Dex continues. “Let's begin. Gentlemen, just say hello. That’s it. Don’t overthink it. This is not a TED Talk. Player One, you go first.”
“Hey,” he says.
