Seeing her yesterday, but not having her to myself; talking to her but getting into another spat in the hot tub? The whole day was frustrating.
But fun.
That’s where my mind went when I collapsed into bed last night. After Lyra left, we continued on with the party. Rand found another keg of the king’s honey lager in the bar, Jon fed us some really good burgers, and we divided ourselves up. There was pool, ping-pong and foosball inside, water polo and tennis outside. Everyone played, with the exception of Leo, who passed out on a lobby couch, sunburnt and clutching his empty pint glass, and Jon, who announced himself as judge and umpire when needed.
Fireman Dylan won it all, and someone scrawled his name on the whiteboard before we crashed last night, crossing out mine.
I don’t like to see my name with a thick black line through it. I also don’t like that I’m part of a handful of men who haven’t had a date with Lyra.
That changes today.
I actually forget about the cameras as I snatch up the red rose on the floor outside my door with a whoop.
“Good job, dude!” Rand cries, thumping my shoulder.
“Nice.” Ashton smirks. “You can join the pack of boyfriends.”
I still. “You’re not all her boyfriends.”
“Oh…but we are,” Ashton assures me. “That’s what we’ll be called when the show airs. Can’t wait, can you?”
I don’t like that at all.
“Except for them.” Ashton gestures down the hall, where Marc, Gord and Luc P., have received their yellow roses of friendship. Shoulders slumping, they begin the round of goodbyes.
“She’s really narrowing it down,” Rand says.
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Less competition?” I quickly do the math in my head. With the latest three being sent home, that leaves only fifteen of us.
“But I like those guys.” And Rand moves off to say goodbye.
“He’s too nice for the show,” Ashton drawls. “Where’s his killer Win The Woman instinct?”
“Please tell me you don’t have that.” Ashton would be a formidable opponent if he cared enough to compete. The only thing I’ve seen him try to win were car races. The rest of the time, he has alaissez-faireattitude, to go with hisdon’t carenonchalance.
His sister, Fenella, has a fire within her, and I wonder what happened to Ashton’s.
Ashton lifts a shoulder. “Lyra already told me I’m not making it to the end, but she likes me, so she’s keeping me as long as she can.”
That’s the first good news I’ve heard about Ashton. “Why are you staying, then?”
Another elegant shrug. “Got nothing better to do. Plus—” He winks and I have a curl of dread. “Maybe your little sister will stop in for another visit.”
I point my finger at him. “Stay. Away.”
Ashton’s laughter follows me back into the room as I go to change for my date.
I can’t believe how excited I am to see Lyra.
A short time later, seven of us meet in the lobby, the only ones still here who haven’t been on a date with Lyra. And one—Derrick—who hasn’t even had much of a conversation with her. The plan is to spend the day at the beach and then visit the brewery in town.
I’m not sure if there’s a cocktail party after it, but I vow to take every minute I can with Lyra.
Easier said than done.
A van transports us to the beach west of town, and it’s busy with chairs and blankets dotting the sand. Lyra meets us there, wearing a pair of high-waisted denim cut-offs and a red bikini under a white cotton shirt.
I let the others greet her first, listen to their compliments and cheesy lines, and then I step up. “Is that the bathing suit you had in Mykonos two Christmases ago?”
