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As I walk to my spot near the shore, I try to figure out if I have any clues to work with. They left me in the room for about an hour. Was that because they were busy filming thewinner? Or were they preparing in general? It’s just impossible to know.

Is Jordy about to come and tell me I’ve won, or to reject me once again, but this time on television?

Grayson and I film a quick exchange where he asks me if I’m nervous, and I say yes, and he says good luck, yadda yadda, then Isaac’s words come back to me. They want this to be romantic. They’ll edit out anything that’s not.

Up to and including my rejection of Jordy?

My heart gives a heavythudof panic. Would that happen? Would they listen to my carefully prepared speech, then yell cut, and tell us to shoot it again from the top, this time with Jordy rejecting me? They could. There’s still two other girls he could pick instead if things go wrong with me. If he picks Skye, and she does what I do, they’ll just reshoot her, too, and he’ll move on to Perrie. Even if they’ve already shot her rejection scene, that’s not a problem for them. They’d only have to reshoot her scene, as the winner this time, and, presto, history rewritten for a romantic finale. She’d play along for the platform boost, of course. She’d never admit she wasn’t actually picked. They’d still have their romantic finale.

Oh my god. The plan isn’t going to work.

After all this. Even if I win, I’ll lose.

And then Jordy will get away with everything, looking better than he ever did before. Just like he always does.

His car rolls up, and the cameras get ready to film him. He locks eyes with me, and breaks into a smile. With every step he takes toward me, my stomach sinks lower and lower.

Then, suddenly, I remember.

The live show is next week.

They can’t edit me on a live show.

It’s the only chance we have.

“Maya,” Jordy says as he reaches me. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say. And as soon as I see the expression on his face, I know for sure.

I’ve won.

THIRTY-TWOSkye

At the hotel where I’m expected to spend the next week, I’m shown to my room by the production assistants, given the number of the on-call counselor the team has hired for the week, and told to wait for my producer.

It’s a sweet little boutique hotel on the outskirts of Loreux, and the two losers have the whole top floor to ourselves. Well, along with a dedicated room for the producers to swap between themselves when they take their shift babysitting us.

As I unpack, it occurs to me that maybe I shouldn’t get too comfortable. If it was Maya who won, maybe there won’t be a live finale after all. Maybe she’ll be coming here to me any moment now, and we’ll be done for good.

No, I decide. That makes no sense. Even after Maya rejects Jordy, they’ll still have the live show. I suppose they’ll just separate Maya and Jordy. Will that mean she’ll be coming here with us? Or will they give her a new room near the winner’s suite, which is located in a hotel across town?

I hope it’s the former. I hope, I hope, I hope. The thought of spending the next week with Maya and Perrie—with Mayaand me finally able to be ourselves—leaves me somewhat giddy.

There’s a knock on my door. Isaac, I expect. But when I answer it, it’s Wai.

“Hey, how you doing in here?” she asks cheerfully.

I look past her down the empty hall. “Great. Is Isaac not coming?”

“Isaac’s been held up,” Wai says, and at that moment I know. We won. Jordy chose Maya. And Isaac’s with them now trying to sort through the rubble of the grenade Maya just threw into the finale.

That’s my girl.

“So, Maya won, then,” I say.

Wai hesitates, then says slowly, “Yes, she did.”

When I don’t detonate, she relaxes.