Meet Your Match

4

"The viewers have voted... Halston Ross and Hanna Mun, you have been matched!"

In my memory, the words on the screen were overly bright, making me wince as they bounced around behind my eyes.

I'd always said I'd be open to dating a woman, and if one asked me out in a few years when I was ready to date again, yeah. Sure. It wasn't like I'd been madly attracted to Liam in the beginning. Before everything had gone wrong, before our worlds had been shattered, I'd fallen in love with who he was and how he was with me.

Yet now, the woman who sat on the edge of the other bed—with her ankles crossed and her stare on the floor—seemed so much more dangerous than he ever had. How could that be?

How could the room I'd shared with Megan feel this much smaller merely because Hanna was in it?

Hanna's suitcase had been waiting for her by her new bed. She'd entered ahead of me, not protesting when I'd dimmed the lights.

It was so tense that being the first to speak would require serious effort.

"What are you thinking?" I asked. I'd endured my curiosity long enough.

She didn't raise her head. "That I have to go wash this crap out of my hair."

Probably not a total lie.

"Let me know if you need help—" I stopped myself far too late. Why? Why did I talk at all?

Hanna either wasn't listening or she was pretending for my sake. "Who is Yuko?"

I glanced down in—confused—realization. A gift basket was sticking out from under my bed. Forming Y U K O over the plastic wrap were stickers—little hearts and cat faces. This was what she couldn't look away from?

"Um, that's my neighbor..." I said. Was she stalling or something?

"Did you put it together yourself?" Hanna asked in a deceptively casual tone.

I stared at her. She really didn't want to talk about the situation, did she? "Yeah."

"You must be close."

Yuko had always been sweet to me, but—

"Not too close, no," I admitted. However, I did consider her a friend while having very few.

Hanna closed her eyes as if I'd cursed at her. What was she struggling with?

Gina would say a loser like me could never win this thing. I'd say it was all about whether I wanted to. Getting on the show in the first place was a win in itself, as that had been my only goal. Not fair to Hanna, but she'd have no trouble moving forward; she was too much of an enigma not to.

I supposed she was insightful enough to suspect that I had no plans to remain on the show—that I already had one foot out the door, even. One less woman in her way would be something to celebrate.

Hanna's eyes opened to find mine, carrying a newly-determined glint. "Let's go to the confidential."

"Now? People will say we did things in there." It was a bad joke.

She didn't take it as one, grabbing something from her suitcase and standing up. "Let them."

The second we were in the enclosed booth of the confidential, a large timer began counting down from thirty-five minutes. The show's cameras never turned on in here while the timer was running, and mics pinned to our clothes would automatically be disabled upon entry.

It was blindingly white. I knocked into the loveseat, not seeing it at first.

Hanna didn't sit, so it would've been rude if I did. There was no way for her to know how shaky my knees suddenly were.