Page 19

The wheel begins to turn, lifting us slowly into the night sky. The sounds of the carnival fade as we ascend, replaced by the gentle creaking of the ride and the distant buzz of the crowd.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, looking out at the distant city lights.
“It is,” he says, but he’s looking at me.
I turn to him, catching him staring, and smile a slow, knowing smile. “The view’s not bad from here either.”
We reach the top, and the ride pauses, leaving us suspended between sky and earth. Stars twinkle above us, impossibly bright despite the city lights below. The moment feels frozen in time, heightened and surreal.
Hayes lifts his hand to my face, his fingers gentle as they brush a strand of hair from my cheek. “I’ve been wanting to do this again since St. Sebastian,” he whispers.
“Me too,” I breathe.
He leans in slowly, giving me time to pull away if I want to. I don’t. Instead, I meet him halfway, my eyes fluttering closed as our lips touch.
The kiss is gentle at first—a question, an exploration. His hand slides to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens. My fingers tangle in his hair, soft and thick between my knuckles. He tastes like sugar and possibility.
This kiss is different from our beach encounter—less frantic, more deliberate. That night was heat and impulse; this is connection and intention. His thumb traces my jawline as histongue teases mine, and I press closer, wanting to dissolve the space between us.
The Ferris wheel remains paused at the top, as if giving us this moment outside of time. Hayes pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine, both of us breathing harder than before.
“I need much more of that,” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, unable to form a more coherent response.
He smiles, then kisses me again—a softer, sweeter press of lips. When we separate this time, the wheel jerks back into motion, continuing its circular journey back to earth.
“For the record,” Hayes says as we descend, his hand finding mine in the darkness, “that was even better than I remembered.”
I squeeze his fingers, warmth spreading through me despite the cool night air. “For the record, I agree.”
As we approach the ground, reality begins to seep back in. The cameras are waiting. The other women will be waiting. The competition will continue. But for now, the warmth of Hayes’s hand in mine feels like something true. Something real. Something worth fighting nineteen other women for.
7
Locked In
HAYES
Ican’t sleep. The memory of Brielle’s lips against mine keeps playing on repeat. Her scent—something floral mixed with her mango lip gloss—still clings to my T-shirt that I purposely didn’t put in the laundry, just so I could catch a whiff as I passed by the chair. I’m in deep, deeper than I should be one date into this reality TV circus. Lying in the darkness of my private suite, I stare at the ceiling and gear myself up to get to know the other women. I’m already interested in Serena, Luna, Jordan, and Chloe—and I really like Annabelle’s vibe if she toughens up a bit. There are a couple of others on my radar who I haven’t gotten to spend enough time with yet.
I roll onto my side, punching my pillow into submission. My mind drifts to August, sleeping, probably surrounded by his physics books and that stuffed Vulcan sehlat toy he insists is scientifically accurate based on the species’ evolutionary history. Brielle would get that. She’d appreciate his explanation of wormhole theory over breakfast cereal. She wouldn’t look at me with that pained expression Sarah’s friends always wear, like they’re thinking, “Poor Hayes, stuck raising a weird genius kid all alone.”
That thought jolts me fully awake. I’m already imagining Brielle meeting my son, becoming a part of our lives. Dangerous territory for a guy who’s dating nineteen other women.Enough.
The alarm clock glows 6:27 AM. No point trying to sleep now. The producers will be knocking on my door in a couple of hours anyway, microphones ready to capture my morning-after thoughts about the date. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rub my face. Maybe a run will clear my head.
I throw on fresh shorts and a T-shirt then slip out the side door. The mansion’s quiet, just the way I like it.
The grounds are extensive, with pathways winding through gardens that require an army of gardeners to maintain. Morning dew soaks through my running shoes as I jog along the stone path that circles the property. The rhythm of my feet hitting the ground steadies me, brings me back to myself—not Hayes the Bachelor, not Hayes the Internet’s “Peeing Hero,” just Hayes Burke, single dad, son, and photographer.
I’m on my second lap when I hear voices floating from an open window. I slow to a walk, not proud of my eavesdropping, but it’s to tempting. Then I catch Brielle’s name.
“—thinks she’s so special after that carnival date,” a voice I recognize as Gabby’s carries through the morning air. “Did you see how he was looking at her during the Lock & Key ceremony? Like she hung the moon or something.”
“Total teacher’s pet vibes,” comes Kavita’s reply. “The whole nerdy girl thing is clearly working for her, but it’s so fake. Nobody’s actually that intoStar Wars.”
“Trek,” a third voice—I can’t tell who it is—corrects. “And that’s not the point. The point is she’s pulling ahead, and we need to do something about it.”