Matched (8 page)

Always the strategist. “Got it,” I answer like a confident teammate in a huddle, smiling at Oakley’s competitive side.

“And
when
we win,” he says quietly without looking at me, having just cuffed my left wrist, “pick someone else for your date.” Right wrist locked. “And I’ll bring your friend Jasmine. Throw ’em all off the scent.”

“I think it’s too late for them to buy that, don’t you?”

He stills as I watch it sink in. “Damn. Okay, but from here on out, when we’re around everyone, stay clear of me. Got it?”

“Um…” Is he serious?

“Kidding.” He chuckles, his hands warm on my cheeks. “But no more of this in front of everyone.” His lips brush over mine, his tongue parting them and diving in briefly before he whispers, “We’ll need to come up with a better plan later.”

I nod in agreement, a tad miffed but understanding. Sort of. Who are we kidding? They all know we’re a couple—there’s no way we aren’t the first ones voted into the Soul Search if we lose. Though it’s not the worst thing that could happen.

With my ankles now bound too, he stands and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Relax. I’ll have you out before you know it. Just work with me.”

I exhale a shaky “Okay” as he ties the blindfold around my head and maneuvers my limbs one last time. “You’re all set. Try not to move.”

Then I feel him back away. Someone else—Tom, maybe—steps up to double check my shackles.

With my ears pricked, I do my best to remain motionless, not wanting the tight cuffs rubbing my skin raw or moving around.

“Gentlemen,” Tom says, “go free your girls!”

I hear grunts and the stomping of feet as the guys rush forward and start digging in the piles, pellets of flying sand spraying my legs. A lot of the girls are cheering encouragement, which causes movement, so I stay silent and keep all my locks turned out. I think Oakley and I planned this challenge cleverly and have a very good chance.

Oakley’s here. “Gold key, baby. Left wrist.” He tries it. Wrong. “Shit. Remember.” He runs back, having to surrender the key to be reburied.

“Good job, honey, you’re a genius!” I hear Dana from somewhere down the line and cringe.

“Okay.” Oak’s in front of me again. “Silver key. Go left wrist again?”

“Yep,” I answer quickly, knowing that’s the best odds. It works, and my left wrist is free. “Hurry, you got it!” I encourage him, shaking out my arm to restore some feeling.

“Emma? You okay?” Cruz’s concerned plea is audible above all. “We can quit.”

Her reply’s even louder, and funny. “Hell no, we’re not quitting! Move it—you’re getting your ass kicked!”

Tom reports the current standings. Ivy and Peyton are in the lead with two limbs unlocked, just as Oakley is back with the gold key. “Trying your left ankle this time.” He’s a little out of breath, but he nails it—another one free!

“Yes!” I squeal. “Go, go!” I feel a surge of wind as he rushes away. Without even seeing him, I have no doubt he’s running at full speed.

But by the time he returns with what he says is a brass skeleton key, the horn blows and Tom announces Ivy and Peyton the winners.

Dang.
I thought we were doing well. We only missed one. Peyton got all four on the first try?

My blindfold’s removed while they celebrate. The crewmen are there to finish unlocking the rest of us, and I spot Oakley kicking up sand in frustration. I walk over and rub his shoulder. “It’s fine. We’ll get ’em next time.”

“Yup,” he pops, folding both hands behind his neck and tilting his head to the sky, blowing out a long huff of disappointment. Sometimes he ruins the thrill of the carnival worrying about winning the biggest stuffed animal.

I walk away, all too familiar with this side of him. He’ll get over it when, and only when, he wants to.

As I continue, I can’t help but overhear a hushed but heated argument between Ivy and Peyton.

“We’re on this damn show to promote our movie! How would it look if we took other dates?” he scolds her.

“Fine,” she concedes haughtily.

“Thank you,” he grits. “The sneaky room swaps at night are one thing—yes, I knew—but on camera? Declarative statements? No. Jesus, Ivy,
think
!”

One less movie I have to stand in line for. They’ll never sell me their onscreen chemistry now.

“Okay,” Tom, voice to haunt me in my dreams forever
,
announces. “Ivy, Peyton, who have you decided to take on your dream date tonight?”

Peyton reaches down and laces his fingers through Ivy’s, smiling widely. “We’re going together, aren’t we?”

She performs, per her profession, with a smile just as dazzling as Peyton’s. “Of course we’ve chosen each other. Picking up where we left off on the set of
Always Was
.”

My eyes roll clear to the back of my head at the shameless facade.

“Fabulous! Be ready for your car at seven, and when you return at ten, the rest of us will be waiting in the Great Room to see who you’ve chosen as the first couple to enter the Soul Search. Everyone else…you’re free till then!”

A half hour later, Oakley’s still moping, playing X-box alone. So Jasmine, Callie, Emma, and I slip on our bikinis, grab some towels, and head down to the ocean. I really like all three of them, and hope we stay close friends after the show, even if it’s long distance; I’m not sure yet where they all live.

We take a dip and eventually end up playing chicken, but Callie’s strength is so mammoth compared to the rest of ours it’s really just three girls almost being drowned by one. So after just a few rounds, we decide to lie out in the sun. Stretched out side by side, we talk about…whatever. Soon, Jasmine announces it’s time for a flip. We all turn onto our stomachs, and I spot his approach.

I’ve gone out of my way to avoid Cruz all day, and gauging by the sudden onset of edginess in my every muscle, I’m not ready to endure the encounter quite yet. I chance another peek his way and notice his scowling, stomping advance…as well as his low-hanging trunks, sunglasses, and glistening bare chest.

“You know you burn easily, Em. Think it’s about time to come in?” His tone’s notably kind.

I peer up and find he’s looking down at me with an odd expression, almost as if seeking my approval that he has indeed gentled his way of taking care of her. I give him a tiny smile. Thankful he’s making it easier than expected to look him in the eyes after last night, I decide to help him out.

“You are getting a little pink, Emma, and I’m too hot anyway. Why don’t we go start some dinner?”

“I buried six steaks in the bottom of the freezer in the garage.” Cruz winks at me, then focuses back on Emma. “You guys go sneak ’em in and I’ll fire up the grill.”

And with that, he’s walking back the way he came—minus the stomping.

“I’ll make some side dishes. Wanna help me?” Callie asks Jasmine, who readily agrees…and a dinner is born.

Oakley joins us eventually. In a slightly better mood, he wolfs down the plate I’ve saved him, thanking me with a private kiss stolen in a shadowy corner and an “I’m sorry.” He even offers to clean up, since he feasted but didn’t help prepare. When it’s all done and a few of us are enjoying cocktails on the back patio, Ivy and Peyton prance in from their “date.”

Most of the girls jump up and run at once to claim a seat in the Great Room, and cameramen position themselves at every angle. Slowly, the men trudge inside as well, chuckling about women. I head in behind them all, praying Oakley and I get sent home tonight. As much as I’d love my charity to receive a bucket of cash, I’m ready to be alone with my man—for good.

As I sit on the couch between Jasmine and Oakley, our host appears on cue and wastes no time in asking for Ivy and Peyton’s decision. They take a united stand at the front of the room, Ivy silently telling Peyton to do the talking with an expectant look.

“We’ve decided to send in Dana and Dalton,” he says, and the room erupts. After Oakley and me, they’re definitely whom I wanted picked—they’re annoyingly cutesy—but let’s not be quite so boisterous about our excitement, people.

“Well, congrats.” Dana stands and pops out a hip. “Because Dalton and I were made for each other.”

Never mind. Be as loud as you want.

“Dalton, please go get your key off the rack,” Tom instructs. “And Dana, if you could grab your safe and join me back here. As you know,” he addresses the room now, “if his key unlocks her safe, they are soulmates and will leave here with $10,000 each. And you have all played the game well, putting the first fifty grand in the main bank. And here they are,” he says when both of them have returned. “Moment of truth. Dalton, whenever you’re ready.”

They use their joined hands to try the lock together.
Oh, brother.
I think one thing every person in this room would agree on right now is that Ivy and Peyton chose for the masses, and we appreciate it.

The commotion when the safe opens makes the earlier uproar look meager. They’re soulmates. Gone. Hasta la vista.

Holy crap. That was way too easy!

“Congratulations to you both,” Tom says when the noise dies down. “Inside the safe, you’ll find two tickets to a location you both listed in your top five picks—
and
you leave with $10,000 for each of your charities. To the rest of you, congrats. Say your goodbyes, as these lovebirds depart in one hour!”

Tom leaves. A few people hug Dana, and I approach Callie. “I know you brought her. Are you bummed that she’s leaving?”

“You’re too sweet.” She hugs me, and whispers in my ear, “Hell no, I’m not. I was about one heave away from puking.”

And then there were fourteen.

Confessional: Callie Cole

“Woo hoo, we sent Dana and Dalton packing tonight! No offense, Dana. Love ya, but the two of you together? Too much. Still, you enjoy it, girl. Have fun on your trip. I know you’ve always wanted to go to Paris, so have a blast and bring me back something kickass!

“Man, the whole house is turnt up tonight celebrating, and I’m drunk. As. Hell. So I figured now’s a great time to give my confession. I’ll say what I really want to.

“Yes, I’m a gymnast and could beat up most the guys I know. But contrary to some of the nastier tabloid scums’ beliefs, I am a heterosexual woman and sick to death of the labels and images thrown at me. I’m not perfect—I like to have fun and want to be loved, just like everybody else. I don’t think I’m a judgmental person, and I’m sick of being judged.

“Which is why I gave my buddy Cruz the blowjob of his life last night! Yup, you heard me, blowjob. Just two old acquaintances letting off a little steam, which I’m well within my rights to do!

“Oh, and here’s a juicy tidbit that I’ll blame the alcohol for making me tell. Dalton and Jensen switched rooms in the middle of the night. And it wasn’t me Jensen came in our room for—pun intended—which leaves…Poison Ivy!

“Ha ha. We got a team too, bitches! Keep messing with my friends, and I’ll come at you! Boom!”

Chapter 6

The house is buzzing the next morning despite our late celebratory night. Everyone’s riding the high of eliminating a couple on the first try—and the most annoying one, at that.

There’s a thick cloud of confidence in the air and ample smack talk of “this show’s a breeze!” But I suspect we may be getting too cocky too early. Of the fourteen remaining, I have no clue who’s a match on more than half. And there are a few I doubt even
have
a soul, so I’m not sure how you’d “search” it.

I’m also still actively avoiding Cruz as much as possible, dreading and dodging any off-chance encounters alone with him where he can tease me about what a perv I am. So I’m sticking to areas where clumps of people are convened. But in doing this, I haven’t had a chance to talk to Jasmine about what Oakley and I walked up on between her and Jensen the other night.

Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. I’m determined to steal a private chat with her sometime today while continuing my Cruz evasion.

Breakfast is unfamiliarly cheerful—a jovial group activity with no misguided accusations or catfights—and that spirit’s much alive as we line up on the sand for today’s mini challenge.