Meet Your Match

13

The lights in the media room had just turned off, a sign that the top photos from our underwater competition would soon be revealed.

The food poisoning finally behind everyone, the wait had been filled with PDA, gossip, and popcorn. Shannon, who hadn't participated in the competition, chose not to attend. I couldn't blame her for making herself scarce—she'd mused openly about which man might be her new match, upsetting the other women with the implication that she would be their replacement.

I'd spent much of this time sending too-dark photos of myself to Anthony and reading delightful replies like Oh shit you caught my sleep paralysis demon. I had also risked not-so-furtive peeks at the tense profile of the woman in the seat attached to mine. As I'd been bumped out of Hanna's consciousness by her phone, the risk was low; I suspected she wasn't even aware of the loose grip she kept on my wrist.

Across the dark aisle, Kieran scrolled and scrolled on his own phone, having grown bored of the small rubber ball he'd brought with him.

I leaned over to ask, "Hey, want to trade for it?"

He laughed and bounced it to me, waiting until I caught it to say, "Don't be ridiculous, Halle. Keep it—it's yours." He returned to his scrolling, the ball already forgotten.

"Any particular reason?" Hanna asked without looking up. She'd recovered, but still had a weariness about her.

"I feel like I might need it one day?" Or maybe I would need the smile it gave me. I was a simple girl.

Photos started appearing on the huge screen.

Hanna ignored them.

"Aren't you going to...?" I whispered.

"There's only one person I want to see," she said. "Let me know when she shows up."

That was fair. We all wanted to see ourselves. Although— "I thought there might at least be two people..."

Hanna finally glanced away from her phone, scanning my face as if she was trying to get an idea of how empty my skull was. Her eyelids were at their lowest.

"Oh," I said, understanding.

Amira's photos with Thomas, particularly the one selected for voting—told me we weren't going to win. The pair had managed something like an underwater waltz in formal clothing.

Seated in front of me, Amira said, "Getting it right almost took up the whole shoot."

I congratulated her, and she blew me a kiss. I held my blushing cheek where the kiss had landed until Hanna cleared her throat—then I patted my hair like that was what I'd meant to do all along.

The reactions to my predicted winners died down, and I nudged Hanna as our best shots hit the screen.

Breathe, you're not underwater anymore...

Back to back, heads and arms pressed together as we each reached out a beckoning hand toward the camera. ... A tangle of limbs and cloth, wrapped in each other, two halves of the same being. ... My teeth in Hanna's shoulder, her head fallen back against the pool wall.

The show had selected the last as our top photo, but I wasn't as sure. The first two had true beauty and captured complex emotions I myself couldn't comprehend. Whereas the third was...pure sensuality.

...Nope, they'd made the right decision.

There it was again. Total silence. No catcalls, no nervous giggling. What was that silence made of? Disapproval? Uncertainty? Shock?

Well, it would be up to the viewers now.

"Think we killed them?" Hanna's murmured question startled me.