Page 124 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

I lace my fingers with hers under the table. The camera won’t catch it, but maybe the producers will. Maybe they’ll zoom in. Maybe they’ll cut it entirely.

Except it doesn’t feel like a performance when she laughs at something I say, her whole face lighting up.

“So,” she says, twirling pasta around her fork in a way that shouldn’t be sexy but absolutely is. “If we were on a normal date, what would we be doing right now?”

“Normal date?”

“You know. Without cameras and producers and a location that costs more than my college tuition.”

I consider this. “Probably arguing about where to eat.”

“Arguing?”

“You’d want some hole-in-the-wall place with authentic atmosphere and I’d want something with a decent beer selection and burgers that don’t come with sprouts.”

“I like sprouts.”

“I know. It’s disgusting.”

She throws a piece of bread at me and I duck, grinning. The cameras eat it up, but it’s real. This is how we are together when no one’s watching. This easy banter, this comfortable friction.

“Where would we go to compromise?” she asks.

“The Tin Shed. They have those loaded potato skins you’re obsessed with.”

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about you, Chirp.”

The words come out more intense than I meant them to. Something shifts in her expression. The playful energy turns charged, electric.

“Everything?” she asks quietly.

“Everything.”

We’re staring at each other across the candlelit table. I forget there are cameras rolling. I forget we’re on a TV show. I forget everything except the way she’s looking at me, like I’m something precious and terrifying all at once.

“Cut!”

Elena’s voice shatters the moment. Wren jerks back like she’s been burned. I have to resist the urge to tell Elena exactly what I think of her timing.

“Beautiful work, you two,” Elena says, approaching the table. “Really lovely chemistry. We’ll pick up after dessert for the transition to your evening activities.”

Evening activities. Right. Because even our alone time has to be scheduled and scripted.

“What happens now?” Wren asks.

“Now you have about two hours of private time. No cameras, no crew. Just the two of you and this beautiful setting.” Elena’s smile is sharp as a blade. “Try to make the most of it.”

That’s the problem. I already am. I don’t want any of this to be hers to use.

She disappears with her team, leaving us alone on the candlelit terrace. The silence feels heavy after all the direction and movement of the crew.

“Two hours,” Wren says.

“Two hours.”

“That’s not very long.”