Before anyone could react to Mike’s departure, the producers gathered us in the kitchen. When we got there, they’d given us champagne and cake to celebrate making it halfway through the summer. Halfway? I hadn’t realized it had been so long.

Wow. Good for us.

The practical part of me wondered if they’d brought in extra alcohol because the producers were tired of watching us play cards all day. I couldn’t blame them—most of us were tired of that, too. Or maybe they just wanted to do something to get away from the palpable “everyone against Ariana” vibe in the hall.

I poured glasses of champagne while Ed cut the cake. When I handed Justin his glass, our fingers brushed. A jolt went through me. God, he was gorgeous. Why did he have to be so good-looking? And funny? Easy to talk to? Why couldn’t he just be a good-looking jerk? Why did it all have to be so confusing?

He’s no better than Ariana. He lied. Ignore him.

Even though I needed to forget about our connection, to focus on the game, I didn’t want to be angry with him.

Trying to keep my jumbled emotions off my face, I smiled at him. “Congratulations on making it through the first five weeks!”

In response, I received a full-on double dose of his dimples.

Anghgnag nah gah. What was I saying?

“Thanks,” he said. “You, too. Did you think you’d make it this far?”

At that moment, Ariana stepped between us, pouring a clear liquid into two shot glasses. “I certainly did. I said from the beginning I have what it takes to win this thing, and I meant it. I plan to go all the way. A quarter mil, baby! Woo!”

She handed Justin a shot and raised her glass into the air.

“I’ll drink to that.” He laughed.

The rest of us raised champagne glasses. “To two hundred fifty grand!”

Our glasses clinked.

Justin winced and stuck his tongue out, shaking his head from side to side. “What is this? I thought it was vodka.”

“Everclear.” Ariana winked at him. “I thought we could have some fun.”

“Yikes.” He dropped the empty glass on the counter. “Too much for me.”

With a smooth gesture I’d never be able to duplicate, she linked her left arm through Justin’s right and transferred a champagne glass into her left hand. She grabbed the full bottle in her other hand and waved it above her head as she turned, moving Justin with her. “Come on! Party in the hot tub!”

For a moment, I watched them walk away. He’s certainly making it easy to be upset with him.

Ed poked me.

“Don’t just stand there,” he hissed. “We’re all going in the hot tub. I’ll distract her so you can talk to him. You can work this out.”

“Am I that obvious?”

He didn’t bother to answer. He sauntered on to the patio carrying his glass and two more bottles of champagne.

Ed gathered everyone in the hot tub and settled himself between Ariana and Justin. He looked at Ariana and issued the twenty-first-century equivalent of an invitation to a duel.

“The Yankees’ rotation is crap this year. The Red Sox are going to trounce them.”

I hadn’t realized Ariana cared about baseball, but the New York City/Boston rivalry apparently trumped petty things like having an interest in sports.

“Are you mental? The Red Sox lineup is so pathetic they have to spout nonsense like ‘Fear the Beard’ in hopes no one’ll notice the team sucks. The Yankees will absolutely take the division this year.”

“Right. I guess it’s good you’re locked up in here so you don’t have to cry every morning when you look at the standings.”

Ed caught my eye and winked as Ariana gasped in outrage. What a star. He’d hooked her into a conversation without half trying.

Once Ariana’s attention focused on the debate, I inched closer to Justin. He’d somehow made it outside without a glass; he sipped directly from the bottle. I’m not much of a seductress, and I hadn’t had time to think of a good opener.

Even though I was still upset about the Ariana thing, Ed and Rachel were right: I needed to get over it. I wasn’t prepared to throw away what I felt every time Justin came near me. I thought I’d been in love with Dominic, but my day never brightened like this when he entered a room. I didn’t lie in bed planning our next interactions. Even the sex paled in comparison to thirty seconds of Justin explaining how to shoot a bow and error. That kind of chemistry needed to be explored.

“Hey.”

Brilliant, Jen. Next, try talking about the weather.

“Hey,” he said. Awkwardly, we listened to the debate rage beside us. “You a baseball fan?”

“Not really. I used to go to games sometimes for work, before I got laid off. Sitting in the corporate box was fun, but it’s not the same experience.”

Really? I spent all this time trying to get this guy into a conversation, and this was the best we could find to talk about? If he had been into me, the conversational abilities I displayed might change his mind.

Hoping for some liquid courage, I drained my glass.

“Can we talk? Somewhere. . .away from all this?” I caught his eyes and tilted my head at Ariana, hoping he understood what I meant.

His Adam’s apple traveled up and down his throat before he nodded. Pitching his voice toward the others, he said, “Need a refill, Jen? I’ll get that for you.”

Justin lifted himself out of the tub.

For the benefit of the others—well, Ariana—I spoke before following. “Hold on. I’ll come with.”

Was it my imagination, or did the corners of Justin’s mouth turn upward as he walked into the house? I suppressed a giggle when Ed’s voice boomed behind me.

“Here, Ariana. Let me fill that for you. There’s no need to go into the house.”

I closed the patio door behind me, wanting a barrier between me and her, even if it was see-through and easy to move. Justin stood next to the cake slices that had been ignored in favor of the champagne, filling two shot glasses.

“Care to join me?”

What the hell? Can’t make this conversation any more awkward.

I’d never tasted Everclear. As it burned down my throat, I swore never to taste it again. It felt like my eyeballs burst into flames. I coughed, swiped at my throat, and chugged half a glass of water.

“Sorry. I should’ve warned you. Want some cake?” Justin asked.

“Hold that thought. I have to make a quick trip upstairs.”

And try not to barf up my insides.

After splashing a bit of water on my face, I left the bathroom and stopped short. Justin sat on the couch in the small sitting room. Two plates of cake and two glasses of champagne waited on the table in front of me. An unopened bottle stood nearby. I hadn’t noticed before, but there wasn’t a ton of light in this room, which was much smaller than the downstairs living area. Cozier. Almost romantic.

My heartbeat sped up a notch.

Calm down, I told myself. Nothing is going to happen.

Oh, yeah? Then why did he set this up? Awfully intimate, isn’t it?

War raged in my head. Part of me still wanted him to apologize for earlier. I needed more than his “I don’t owe you anything.” On the other hand, I was so tired of arguing. So tired of the drama.

Couldn’t we have this one moment?

I sat on the couch, trying to find a happy medium between close enough to be enticing and plopping myself into his lap. God, I wanted to plop myself into his lap. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken that shot. Justin handed me a piece of cake, and I thanked him.

“How is it?” I asked.

“It’s pretty good. My sister’s cakes are better. She works in a bakery. She’ll own it someday.”

“Oh, yeah?” I asked. Justin rarely talked about his personal life, so I seized the opening. “You’ve mentioned your sister a few times, but never said much about her. Older or younger?”

“A twin, actually. She tried out for the show with me.” He shrugged and swallowed his champagne. “I don’t think she was into it. She just did it because I wanted us to do something fun together.”

Wait a minute. Why did that sound so familiar?

Think, Jen. I had heard this information before.

As I puzzled it out, Justin tilted his head and studied my face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just—what you said is so familiar. It’s like déjà vu or something.”

“I don’t think we’ve had this conversation before. I remember most of our talks.”

He did? A wave of pleasure washed over me. I took in his green eyes, the soft-looking blond hair. Then, with a start, the answer hit me. “You’re Sarah’s brother!”

A look of confusion passed over his face. “How did you know? Wait. You’re the girl from the bathroom!”

“Yes!”

“Cheers!” He clinked our glasses together, then took a long swallow before looking at his now-empty glass. I wondered how much he’d had to drink.

“She told you about that?”

Justin reached for the bottle and refilled both glasses. “Well, she said she had a minor breakdown in the restroom, and some girl talked to her until she felt better. Jennifer is such a common name, though, and she didn’t say anything when the contestants were announced.”

“That’s not surprising. We only spoke for a few minutes.”

“Yeah, but you made an impression on her. She thought I’d like you.”

At that point, my hopes skyrocketed. He wouldn’t say these things just to shoot me down, would he? I took another sip of champagne and shifted a bit closer to him. “Really? And what do you think?”

My fingers itched to stroke his hair. He sat so close. I leaned toward him.

“I. . .I think.” Justin inched closer to me at an agonizingly slow pace. “I think. . .I’m going to be sick.”

At that, he set his glass down hard on the table. It clanked over on its side, pouring champagne on to the floor. He stood, swayed, and vomited on my feet.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, I stared miserably up at the ceiling, flipping the prior night’s events over and over in my head. Sarah’s once-forgotten words from the audition rang in my head. My brother’s so driven. He’d do anything to win.

At the time, I hadn’t known she was talking about Justin. But would doing anything to win involve participating in a fake romance for the ratings? Flirting with me so I’d vote for him and he’d get to stick around longer? It was hard to believe a guy who really liked me would puke rather than letting his lips touch mine.

“So, what happened?” The next morning, Ed pounced on me as soon as I ventured into the kitchen. I’d gotten up later than usual due to all the time I spent lying in bed, refusing to face the day.

“Yeah. So, he threw up on me.”

“Oooooh, he threw up on you! I bet he did.” Ed winked at me. “You go, girl!”

“No, really. That’s not a thing. Actual vomit. From his mouth. On to my bare feet.”

His face fell. “Damn. I thought that was a metaphor. I mean, sure, a freaky one, but you can make anything sound dirty if you try hard enough.”

“Not this. It’s dirty in a ‘covered in vomit’ way, which isn’t sexy at all. No, I tried to kiss him; he puked.”

“Ew.”

“Right. I have no idea how to react to the man of my dreams blowing chunks all over me.”

“What did you do?”

“Stared with my mouth open. Got a towel. Cleaned up. Looked for a trash can or bucket to leave by his head. Couldn’t find one. Showered. Cried. End of story. I don’t want to talk about it, especially not if there’s any chance she’ll overhear.” He didn’t have to ask who “she” was. “I’m going for a run. Maybe I’ll feel better after a few miles.”

The first lap around the house did nothing to make me feel better. The second wasn’t much better. I forced myself to keep going. By the time I hit the fourth or fifth lap, I got into a rhythm. During my seventh lap, I saw some humor in what had happened. If it had happened to someone else, I might’ve laughed.

Somewhere around my tenth lap around the yard, I made an important decision: I needed to focus on my end goals. The chase wasn’t getting me anywhere. It was time to give up.

I wanted to win $250,000. I wasn’t here to find a boyfriend, and I certainly wasn’t here to throw myself at someone who’d drink to the point of throwing up rather than talk about his feelings. Or who was possibly repulsed by the idea of kissing me.

Did I want to start another relationship so soon after Dominic, anyway? Especially when I didn’t know if I could trust Justin? Hell, were we even in relationship territory? Brandon tried so hard to talk me into a break-up fling last spring, and I hadn’t found the right opportunity. National television didn’t seem like the way to go.

My eye needed to stay on the prize, or I’d be going home with nothing: no money, no boyfriend, no job, no place to live. Nothing but pending bankruptcy or a future hiding in the Peace Corps. I couldn’t afford to take that risk.

By the time I finished my run, showered, and re-entered the kitchen, Birdie was helping Ed make breakfast. I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the counter. “What are you making?”

“Hangover special,” Birdie winked at me. “Eggs and cheesy hash browns.”

I turned on Ed. “You told her!”

“Of course I did,” he retorted. “You had to know I would.”

“But, also, Ariana and Rachel are in the living room moaning about their headaches, and Abram said Justin can’t get out of bed.”

“Here, make yourself useful.” Ed handed me a package of bacon. “I pre-heated the oven.”

Obediently, I got up and pulled two cookie sheets out of the cupboards, then laid bacon in rows. “He’s sick? Is it bad?”

Ed shrugged. “It might be if Ariana goes in to offer a sponge bath. Luckily, she also had a lot to drink. I don’t think she’s feeling too hot, either.”

I slid the cookie sheets into the oven. “I mean, not that I care.”

“Riiiiiiiiiight,” Birdie smirked at Ed, who winked at her.

“Seriously, guys, I’m done,” I insisted. “All this back and forth is too much. He lied about Ariana. He’d rather get shit-faced than have a conversation with me about everything. I need a quarter of a million dollars more than I need some guy. I hardly know him. I’m focusing on the game. Someone else take him breakfast. I’ll stay here and get everything on the table.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie,” Ed said.

In the end, he took a tray upstairs and brought it right back down. The production team took Justin to the doctor to make sure he didn’t have alcohol poisoning. The rest of us ate silently, either nursing our own hangovers or lost in our thoughts.

When Justin came back to the house a couple of hours later, I was so engrossed in conversation with Rachel and Abram I almost didn’t notice.