An assistant brought in another heart-shaped card. This one had my name on it.
And only my name.
I opened the card, and saw that the “audience” had selected me to go on a “Fairy Tale Come True” date with Dante.
Just me. And Dante.
Oh, sugar sticks.
It was one thing to be “on” for a few minutes at a time. It would be another thing entirely to act that way for a whole evening.
“What does it say?” someone asked, but I couldn’t deal with the other contestants right then.
I jumped up and ran down to the production room, looking for Taylor. She was there. I wondered when she ever slept.
All the producers and their assistants looked at me funny. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
She followed me out of the room, closing the door. We went back into the bathroom again. It seemed like a strange meeting place, but whatever.
“I know I told Burdette I would do what I could, and I want to help you out, but what is this?”
“They’ve screened the first couple of episodes for focus groups, and you were overwhelmingly picked as the favorite.”
“Me? Why?” I wasn’t even really in the running. I was not supposed to be the one the focus groups liked.
“They liked that you wore your jersey the first night. Said it made you seem relatable and down-to-earth. And there were a lot of words thrown around about you and Dante. Like, chemistry. Heat. Obvious attraction.”
I could think of some words to throw around too. Like, engaged. Off the market. Never going to happen.
But my opinion apparently didn’t matter. I would do what I’d been doing—stay quiet, do as I was told, and make Matthew Burdette happy.
And all I could do was hope to keep my real life as intact as possible.
The show provided a dress for me, a strapless pale blue ball gown that made me feel like I was going to somebody’s prom. It cinched in at the waist, and it had an overlay of delicate silver flowers. I had matching silver heels. I had also spent more time on my makeup and hair than I would care to admit.
I was going to be on television. I had to look good.
And as long as I kept believing that was the reason, everything would be okay.
Genesis watched me get ready. “I don’t need a purse, I have the dress, the shoes—what am I forgetting?”
“The mice? The pumpkin? Fairy godmother?”
“Ha-ha,” I said as I touched up my lipstick.
“Looks like you’re all ready for your hot date.”
I was planning on more lukewarm than hot. But I smiled at Genesis and told her I’d see her later.
When I left my room, an assistant was standing by with a cameraman and some other people, and I wasn’t really sure what they did. Someone asked, “Is it a go?” into their headset, and then nodded at me.
The production assistant told me I could go down the stairs. I wondered if I should walk down slowly or normally. I settled for somewhere in between.
Dante stood at the bottom, in another tuxedo, holding a bouquet of lemon lilies for me. I didn’t know if he was deliberately using the flowers to make a pointed reference to what had happened between us on my graduation day, but I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
“Flowers, huh?”
“I know, clichéd. But they were easier to carry than what I wanted to bring you.” He handed the flowers to me and I took a deep breath, inhaling their scent. Like a cross between lemons and orange blossoms.
“What did you want to bring me?”
“A Tuscan villa.”
I laughed, and one of the PAs took the lilies to put them in water. I twirled around once and asked, “So, what do you think?”
His light brown eyes appraised me, and I could tell he liked what he saw. “You expect me to be able to think when you’re wearing that?”
Suddenly I regretted asking him. It was what happened when you were an only child. I was so used to constant attention and affection from my parents that I often sought it out in others. Which wasn’t the best idea given my current situation.
“You look . . .”
I stopped him. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?’
“I don’t think you should say whatever it is you’re going to say. I think it’s better for both of us if you don’t.”
“I was going to say you look awful.”
“Awful?” He had me back to laughter again.
“Just terrible. I’m not sure I can be seen with you in public.” He offered me his arm, and I put my hand on the crook of his elbow. It was supposed to be a polite, chivalrous gesture. Instead it made all my nerve endings tingle as my pulse did a two-step.
“You look awful, too.”
“Thank you.”