Matched (28 page)

I make it with a minute to spare.

“We meet again!” Tom greets. “And also,
again,
we played the
waiting
game.” His eyes cut to me and the other escapees. “Care to enlighten us about your little adventure, Emma?”

Cruz takes a step forward, clearly not liking her being the one called out, but she’s got it under control. Nudging him aside, she grins. “It was fabulous. Thank you for asking, Tom.”

“I see. Well, let’s hope next time you’ll allow the cameras to be part of all the fun too.”

“Perhaps,” she replies, still smiling.

I glance at Adam, and Jasmine’s right. He doesn’t look happy. He’s sitting in a director’s chair under a canopy out of the shot, scowling at some papers in his hand. Jasmine’s watching him too, from her place next to Jensen, whose arm is snug around her waist.

“Now, then, let’s get back to it,” Tom spouts. “This afternoon’s main challenge is an individual effort called ‘What’s Their Language?’ The universally recognized five love languages are Quality Time, Gifts, Words of Affirmation, Physical Touch, and Acts of Service. During your screening process, you ranked these in order of importance to you to give and receive, and gave an example of each that would mean something to you.”

My mind wanders back to what I put down, and I shudder.
Love languages
. I’m feeling anything but lingual. But on the plus side, this gives me a chance to see how well I know the people in the house. They’ll be easier to pair up if I win.

“All twelve of you will play at the same time, guessing about the other eleven,” Tom continues. “Behind me are twelve boards, each with the faces of your eleven cast mates and a square hole beside them. Down there,” he says, pointing, and we all turn to see large piles of square cubes, “each cube has one cast member’s top two languages and examples of such.

“When I say go, you must run down, retrieve one cube at a time, and come place it in the hole beside the picture of the person you believe it represents. Of the first three people with all twelve cubes placed, the one with the most correct wins. Any questions?”

I’m glad it’s an individual challenge, the relief vast, for several reasons.

One, I won’t get paired with Oakley. Two, I won’t get paired with Cruz and three, I don’t have to touch or lick anyone. All points making the game one of my favorites from the start.

“If there are no questions, here’s the hook we’ve thrown you this time. The winner can take their dream date and has one pick for the Soul Search, as usual—
or
they can forgo their date and send in
two
picks tonight. If the two couples sent in are both a match, we put
$75,000
in the community bank for charity!”

Cheers erupt, but Tom’s quick to hold up a finger. “The catch? If even
one
couple isn’t a correct match, the bank
loses
$10,000.”

A series of groans explodes now. Everyone wants to be the hero who wins $75,000 and eliminates two couples, but being the asshole who cost a charity $10,000 on national TV? It’ll take a brave soul to risk it. But I’m in a give-no-fucks kind of mood, so I’m in it to win it.

“If everyone’s ready, good luck, and…GO!”

I race as quickly as my feet will carry me to the blocks and notice Rachel and Nadia taking their time, talking and walking their way down. In fact, maybe they’ve got the right idea on this one. Maybe I should save my energy too. The men are out for blood, flying up and down the hill in flashes of speed and endurance that I won’t possibly be able to imitate.

When I make it to my pile, I grab a cube and read quickly. I remember this part of the questioning vividly; it was one of the few things that seemed to carry any validity. My top two languages were Quality Time (an example being a night of movies, snuggled on the couch) and Words of Affirmation (getting a compliment every single day). I like Physical Touch and had debated on it, but a “You’re beautiful” seems a more honest effort to me than a boob graze.

The block in my hand boasts “Receiving Gifts” and “Acts of Service,” the examples being “A necklace they know I’ve had my eye on” and “Surprising me with a gift.” I’d bet the beating heart in my chest it’s Nadia’s, so I sprint back and plug it next to her ugly mug before running back down the hill.

I grab another block and am about to read it when I hear Court shout, “Come on, darlin’, you got this!”

I look, and damn, he’s not just encouraging her, Emma’s on fire; she can
fly
. And because she might actually have a chance of winning, I slide down to the sand and sit, hoping she takes the whole thing. Curiously, I read each block one at a time. Some I don’t know the answers to, and some I’m positive of. The block boasting “Physical Touch,” with an example of “Staying by my side like I’m the only man in the room,” and “Acts of Service,” the example being “Showing me she loves me with random kisses, touches, and praise” is definitely Oakley Abrams’.

The next one says “Quality Time,” “Nothing but us—doesn’t matter, anything she picks” and “Physical Touch,” “Giving me her kiss in the morning, her hand in public, and her body freely and openly.” Whomever it belongs to…the computer’s broken beyond repair if it didn’t match me with him as my soulmate.

When I finally mosey my way back to the group, I hear the horn blow and Tom declare Cruz, Miles, and Emma the top three finishers. How did NFL Oakley not beat Emma and Miles up and down a hill? I look at their boards; all three got mine correct. But with a total of ten out of twelve correct, Miles is the ultimate victor.

Good for him, depending on what he chooses to do. Immediately, everyone but a few are on him, all talking at once and pitching their agendas. Peyton is the loudest of them.

“Enough, enough,” Tom chuckles. “Everyone back up. Miles, this is your decision. You can always just take that date and one pick.”

“No way, Tom. I’m picking two and going for the big money!” he declares adamantly. “And I’m ready to choose the couples now.”

“I like your confidence. If you’re so sure, go ahead and tell us who you’re sending in and we’ll all head inside and do this thing!”

“I’m sending in Peyton and Rachel…” Good choice, though I feel bad for Peyton. My self-respect would waiver if I were matched with the likes of Rachel. “…and Jasmine and Jensen.”

What? Does he want me to punch him?

“The hell?” Peyton blurts out, his face twisted with shocked disgust that melts the second Rachel scoffs. “I mean…no offense, Rachel, but I just don’t think you’re my match—or how anyone else could, for that matter.”

“Ditto, asshole,” she snips, leading the pack to the house.

I’m bringing up the rear, but not for long as Emma, Callie, and I all hurry to Jasmine’s side. She’s pale and frazzled, and with one glance at Adam I see he is, too.

“Are you all right?” I ask, unsure why Miles would send her in with Jensen. Yes, they screw around, but it’s obvious they’re not
soulmates
. And Miles is supposed to be one of the good ones.

“Perfect.” She attempts a smile. “I came here with Jensen because I believed he was my soulmate, and this is what I wanted. Why wouldn’t I be happy?”

“
Believed
is the operative word there, Jas,” Callie replies.

But before we can say anymore, Jensen prowls over and begins pulling her away.

“Come on, baby. Let’s go do this and see where our vacation is taking us next.”

My fingernails dig into my palms, the urge to knock the presumption right off his face, barely contained.

Jasmine doesn’t look back at us, stepping into his embrace as he leads her to the Great Room. Furious, I find Miles and tug him aside, my nails digging into his skin harsher than is probably necessary.

“What are you doing?” I seethe. “Jasmine and Jensen? You can’t tell me you seriously believe they’re a match!”

“I don’t,” he replies evenly.

I’m ready to continue my rant when his words sink in. “Wait,
what
?”

“I said I don’t think they’re soulmates.”

“You just risked $10,000 of charitable money! You realize that, right? People are going to be pissed, Miles.
Or
, what if the jackass computers say they
are
soulmates? You shoved them back together, and then
I’ll
be pissed.”

“Look, I watch her every day, secretly hoping Jensen pulls his head out of his ass and changes his ways. But while you all were out, he was in the Lovin’ Lounge with Rachel.”

I’m not surprised. Thoroughly repulsed, but not surprised.

“I get it, but still—”

“I’m in the bed right across from hers, Harlow. You may be in the same room, but you don’t see what I do every night.”

“Like what?”

His expression’s pained. “She cries herself to sleep more nights than not. She thinks she’s hiding it behind her pillow, but I can hear her…see her body shake. The girl’s miserable, and if proving to her through a stupid computer test that they’re not meant to be helps her in some small way, I’ll risk the wrath of everyone here. I had to do this. I couldn’t give a shit about the money—I’ll find a way to replace it. I just can’t stand to see her cry anymore.”

I’m at a loss, heartbroken for my friend and ashamed I never knew. I wish I could go hug her right now. But instead, I reach out and embrace Miles. “You’re one of the best guys here, Miles. I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You should be.” He laughs, kissing the crown of my head before we break apart. We’re about to drag ourselves to the Great Room for the big reveal when I turn to see Callie standing there, listening.

She nods at Miles. “We’ll meet you there,” she tells him. He smiles and leaves the room.

“Hey, you feeling all right?” she asks me when Miles is gone.

“Fine, why?” I start to walk, her at my side.

“Well,” she says with a laugh, “you sat down in the middle of the game.”

“I wanted to give Emma a shot at winning.”

“Damn Miles.” She laughs again. “I knew Cruz would let her have it, and Oakley was distracted by those two bloodsuckers. Guess we should’ve told him the plan too.”

“Oh, he has one of his own, trust me.”

“
Okaaay
. Should be interesting. So, uh…where’d you guys go this morning?”

“Ugh, you had to ask,” I groan. “Emma dragged us through the wilderness to a guest house about a mile away. We just swam in the pool. Nothing special.”

“Right,” she says quietly.

I move in front of her and stop. “We didn’t want to wake you up. Emma said you might be tired. Sorry if you’re upset.”

Her face tightens with what looks like nerves. “Is that
all
Emma said?”

I know what she’s getting at and part of me wants to know if there’s something going on, so I shake my head. “No. She also said you and Oakley were up late talking.”

She replies slowly, her eyes on mine. “We were. We do that a lot, but I promise you that’s all it is. He’s a friend…we just get each other, I guess.”

“How’s he doing?” I ask, needing to know.

“Honestly? He’s shocked, hurt, angry, and maybe even a little embarrassed…but deep,
deep
down he understands why you broke it off. He just wishes it were different.”

“Then why doesn’t he come talk to
me
?”

“Like I said, he’s angry.”

“Well, I’m angry too! He and I have always been friends. I was honest with him and don’t deserve the cold shoulder. You tell him I—”

“Not gonna happen,” she interrupts, and my eyes widen. “Look, I’m sorry—I really am—but I’m begging you not to involve me in it.”

“
Involve
you? You spend every night talking to him, so you’re obviously
already
involved, Callie.”

She sighs heavily. “I get that, but I’ve just been an ear for him when it comes to your relationship. I don’t impose my opinion, and I definitely don’t play messenger. I told him this exact same thing, and he’s stopped bringing you two up when we talk. I’m sorry, Harlow. You’re my friend, first and without fail, but I don’t want to start a chain of ‘he said, she said.’ And I don’t think you want that, either.”

Her eyes shift to the cameraman at our left, and I want to cry. Again, I’m humiliating myself, airing my dirty laundry in the nation’s living room. How is it possible that I hardly notice these cameramen lurking around anymore?

“You’re right,” I tell her, feeling worse. “I’m sorry I asked, and I really am glad Oakley has someone to talk to here.”

“Don’t apologize. I get it—really, I do.” She hooks my arm in hers, and we start back off toward the house. “I’m sorry you and Oakley are going through this, but you never know…maybe there’s still hope for you guys.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, my head foggy. “Maybe. I’d really miss my oldest friend. Hard to fight when neither of us intentionally did anything
wrong
.”

When we enter the Great Room, Peyton and Rachel are at the front on one side of Tom, while Jasmine and Jensen are on the other, waiting impatiently for us.

“Looks like we’re ready now. Peyton, you seemed sure, so we’ll let you go first,” Tom deems. “Please unlock Rachel’s safe.”

He shoves the key in with a smug grin that quickly turns sour and agonized when the click of the internal notch echoes through the room.

“No…no way.” He shakes his head as the safe door swings open. “This is some rigged bullshit!” he snarls.

“Trust me, I’m not thrilled either, Nancy boy.” Rachel rolls her eyes flamboyantly and pulls out the tickets inside. “Awesome, London. Go me!”

“Miles?” Tom, as shocked as anyone, turns to him. “How’d you call that?”

“Easy. Neither of them made any real effort whatsoever to connect or find love, and they’re both loud and out for themselves. They’re twin souls if I’ve ever seen a set.”

Score: Miles 1.

“And the moment of truth. Jensen, please try Jasmine’s safe,” Tom says. “If it unlocks, all four of you are heading home and the community charity bank becomes $75,000 richer!”

Jensen takes a moment and looks at Jasmine. But instead of sliding the key into her safe, he drops down to one knee.