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Roslyn

Mate Match Transcript: S24 E2 INTERVIEW 4

Contestant: Roslyn|Producer: Sella

S: Roslyn, can you tell us a little about your first few days on the Mate Match beach?

R: What about them?

S: Anything you’d like to share.

R: The… beach is nice?

S: Good. Good. What about the other contestants?

R: I… yeah. They’re alright. Juni is nice.

S: [laughs] Let’s try another adjective

R: She’s… great.

S: [inaudible into headset] Alright, how about we take five to shake off those nerves then try this again?

Two days after my incident with Rhevar and Zandrel, my patience for waiting for my one best chance has just about run out.

The incessant hum of the hovercams and their endlessly watching eyes make me feel like some kind of prey animal. A constant reminder that I’m watched, that making any kind of move is probably going to fail before it even begins.

Or, even more likely, that I’ll get kicked off the show way before I have the opportunity to make a move, for the simple fact of what terrible entertainment I make.

Since ditching Rhevar, I’ve kept my damn head down. Too far down. Ducking cameras and evading suitors at every turn. Enough that I’ve even started to get on Sella’s ever-cheerful nerves.

And the interviews they’ve started sure as shit aren’t helping things.

At least once a day, producers pull us off the beach to sit down in a special set and talk directly to the camera about our feelings .

About our experience. About the other contestants. About every tiny, mundane detail of our time here.

If trying to act like a normal human being on the beach was a stretch, then trying to dredge up one single ounce of charisma or charm for these close-ups is a lost cause entirely. Painful, disastrous, a hovercraft-crash happening in slow motion.

All with dozens of sets of unfeeling, constantly recording eyes sitting in judgment.

Not to mention the other eyes I can feel even when they’re not there.

Zandrel is a persistent, maddening shadow. Even when I can’t see him, I’m certain he’s somewhere nearby. Waiting. Watching.

It makes my skin crawl.

Sitting out in the late afternoon sunshine with Juni, soaking up a few rays in arguably the most gorgeous place I’ve ever been, I can’t shake the sensation. It settles over me like a blanket of nettles, bringing me closer and closer to doing something monumentally stupid and reckless with each passing day.

Wait. I have to wait.

Every more reasonable instinct I have screams caution. I’m going to get one shot at this, if I get a shot at all, and I can’t fuck things up before that opportunity presents itself.

“Ros?” Juni says from beside me, startling me out of my dark thoughts and back to the beautiful, sunny present.

“Yeah?”

“Just making sure you’re still with me. You were looking a little… strange.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking.”

“About the Vas-Greshiran?”

I hide my grimace.

Rhevar and I have only had one short, awkward conversation since our date and disastrous kiss.

Hanging out with him on the boat that day was… fine. Pleasant. Nice.

He seems like a decent enough guy, the conversation stayed surface-level and polite, and I might have even tried to stretch out our “connection” a little longer as camera fodder and proof I’m here for the right reasons, if everything hadn’t gone ass-up with that interrupted makeout.

Even before the kiss—which wasn’t the worst I’ve ever had, but not something I’d wanted or expected—it’s not like there was anything there .

It would have been a hell of a lot better if I could have continued pretending like there was.

But Zandrel put a stop to that.

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, the way Zandrel swooped in. The way I let him see— again —how angry I was, how fast those emotions got the better of me.

I could hardly look at Rhevar after it, couldn’t face the inevitable questions.

Besides, he deserves better than to be dragged into it.

“No,” I mutter. “We, uh, won’t be seeing each other again.”

Juni lowers the sunshades she’s wearing and shoots me a concerned glance. “What happened? He seemed great.”

“He was. I just… we weren’t… just not a match, you know?”

Her brow furrows even further, and she glances up and down the beach. There are no cams nearby, but she lowers her voice and leans closer.

“And why does that matter?”

“Because we’re… supposed to be finding love?” The words sound hollow and false even to my ears, and Juni just scoffs.

“Roslyn,” she drawls. “Come on, don’t get soft on me now. We are not here to find love. We are here to get famous.”

A wry smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Noted.”

“And part of getting famous means putting on a good show for the cameras. Particularly with a very hot, very eligible Vas-Greshiran.” She huffs an exasperated breath and settles back into her lounger. “But if you really don’t like him, we can find you someone else.”

“Let’s start with you,” I say quickly. “Anyone caught your eye?”

Another sigh, this one more dreamy than irritated. “Too many someones.”

“So let’s narrow it down.”

She thinks for a moment. “I know you’ve got hangups with Jurvians, but have you seen Tev?”

We both glance to where a few of the male contestants are amusing themselves with a game of something that vaguely resembles human soccer in the sand, though this version also includes full-body tackles. I have to admit, it’s a pretty mouth-watering display of muscles and athleticism, especially when I spot the Jurvian in question.

Tall, broad, with rippling muscles covering his firm abdomen and wide shoulders. Glossy black hair tousled to careless perfection. A jawline sharp enough to cut diamonds. The iridescence in his skin even more striking in the bright afternoon sunlight.

It’s not hard to see the appeal.

I mean, I spent six months on Jurva with the Sol Alliance learning how to fly alongside Jurvian pilots, and almost seven years after that running tandem missions with their military. It made for plenty of time to fraternize with our allies, so I’m not one to talk when it comes to resisting a flyboy’s charms.

Like he can sense us staring, Tev pauses right in the middle of the field of play, raising a hand to wave to Juni.

At least until an Aventri slams into him and the two of them go sprawling into the sand in a tangle of limbs and wings.

Juni laughs out loud, and I can’t help but join her.

“Good choice,” I say. “Have you made a move?”

The question launches her into a quiet but detailed discussion of his merits and potential for generating screen time. I listen with one ear and respond at the appropriate moments, even while my attention unwillingly slips back into the same place it’s been for the past two days.

On the cams. On my plans. On my Revexoran shadow. On the terrible, prickling sense of being watched.

Eventually, Tev must tire of waiting for Juni to make up her mind about his pros and cons, because as soon as the game adjourns, he makes a beeline for her. With a smile that might be heart-stopping if I were still vulnerable to that particular brand of charm, he asks if she’d like to go for a walk down the beach.

I’m all encouragement when Juni looks at me for input, and as they walk away hand in hand, I don’t have to pretend to be happy for her.

I am happy for her.

She’s the closest thing I’ve had to a friend since I left service. I hope she gets everything she wants while she’s here, even if I suspect I won’t be a lot of help in pursuit of those goals.

The back of my neck prickles again, and I glance over the see a new set of eyes on me.

Three sets, to be more precise.

A Sendahlan. A Szenak. Another Vas-Greshiran.

Word must be getting around that Rhevar and I crashed and burned, because they’re all looking at me the same way Juni was looking at Tev. Appraising, avaricious, calculating.

Shooting up from my lounger, I take off through the sand. Not running, because I don’t want to look like a complete lunatic and draw even more attention to myself, but in a brisk, take-no-shit-stride that leads me to the edge of the beach and leaves them all staring after me.

I don’t even know where I’m going, but as I meander down one of the jungle paths leading away from the water, I suppose it’s as good a time as any to do a little sight-seeing.

And if that sight-seeing just so happens to include finding my way back to the pool where Rhevar took me the first night? If it means I get close to the fence at the edge of the production zone that looks oh-so-easily climbable? So be it.

I pick my way slowly down the path, trying my damnedest to look like I’m in no hurry, like I’m just out for a casual afternoon stroll, a wide-eyed human getting her first glimpse at all the beauty the universe has to offer.

But I don’t have to pretend for long. I must not make very good camera fodder out for my walk, because the cam that tailed me from the beach peels away after a few minutes, off to focus its attention on more entertaining subjects.

Perfect.

Quickening my step a little, I change course at the next fork in the path to take a more direct route back to the pool.

If the brief glimpse I got that first night still holds up, there’s a section of fence obscured behind some clusters of trees and vines that looked like it might be strong enough to hold a human.

If I can confirm, then maybe later tonight after everyone’s gone to bed, I can sneak back over and—

“Doing some exploring?”

I skid to a halt in the middle of the path, stomach dropping to my feet.

Zandrel is intimidating in darkness, but in broad daylight, there’s something even more threatening about him.

Maybe because seeing him here, with his arms folded over his chest and an arrogant smirk on his lips, is a reminder that he doesn’t need to rely on that darkness at all. No illusions, no smoke and mirrors to project a scarier-than-life image of him into my head.

Stripped of the shadows, the utter lethality of him is on full display.

Even if I wasn’t a soldier, I’m sure I’d recognize it.

The cut of his muscles, the wickedly sharp tips of his horns, the keen focus of his galaxy-black gaze. There’s something waiting and still about him, a command he wields with his sheer presence.

I square my shoulders. “Yes.”

That smirk of his grows even sharper, like the sight of me gathering my courage amuses him.

“Find anything interesting?”

“Not yet,” I say, and regret it immediately.

Zandrel’s eyes narrow as he takes a step closer, and he tilts his head to size me up like a cat with a mouse, a scientist considering a particularly interesting sample on a petri dish. Cool, removed, objective, placid as a pond with a fanged monstrosity lurking in its depths.

It pisses me off even more.

All of this is just a game to him. Wherever the fuck he came from and however the fuck he ended up here, I’m not stupid enough not to know he can probably play it better than me.

“And what would you find interesting, Roslyn?”

He says my name like a taunt, like he knows well exactly what I’m up to.

And maybe he does. But it’s not going to change anything.

I’m still going to find Savvie whether or not he’s standing in my way.

“Because,” Zandrel goes on, “I might be able to guess, if the way you were studying that fence by the—”

“Zandrel,” a clipped, masculine voice barks out from behind us.

We both turn to find another guard headed up the path, frowning at us. He’s shorter than Zandrel, and thinner, with a reptilian quality to him. Smooth tan scales and sleek features, a thick tail that trails on the ground behind him.

“Brivik,” Zandrel says, tone just as short and formal.

“You’re on duty to cover the production team heading out to the field tonight. A date on one of the smaller islands up the coast.”

Zandrel opens his mouth, but Brivik—who seems like he must hold some kind of command here—cuts him off.

“Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

Without waiting for Zandrel to say anything else, Brivik leaves the way he came.

A small, petty part of me preens with sharp satisfaction at the consternated look on Zandrel’s face. Eyes even darker than usual, creases of frustration framing his harsh features, it’s clear he’s irritated at being ordered around.

And something else is clear, too.

My shadow is being sent away for the evening.

Production for night dates can last nearly until dawn, especially if the crew is set up in a location away from the main beach.

The assignment will take Zandrel away from here for hours.

He seems to realize it at the same moment. Dark stare fixed squarely on me in a way I assume is meant to be intimidating, he sucks in a sharp breath at whatever it is he sees on my face.

“If you think this means you can—”

“I don’t think anything,” I say, almost giddy with the stroke of luck. “And you better get down to the beach if you don’t want to miss that boat.”

I take a couple of steps down the path, nearly skipping, when a heavy hand lands on my shoulder.

Zandrel spins me around to face him. “Roslyn.”

The word is an unmistakable warning.

Part of me knows I should heed it.

With Zandrel looming above me—scowling even more fiercely, every inch of him radiating threat and authority—some part of me knows I should be cowering in fear.

And I might, if my anger didn’t spark right back to life in the face of all that imperious arrogance.

Who the hell is he to stand between me and Savvie?

Beneath his hand, my skin burns, the outline of every scar and every tattoo clearly defined and stinging.

I fucking hate people touching my shoulder.

“Take your hand off me,” I hiss and, gratifyingly, he complies.

I take one step away, walking backward, eyes fixed on him. Then another. And one more.

Zandrel traces my retreat step-for-step, solar storms brewing in his black eyes.

“Roslyn.”

It’s got a different edge to it, the way he says my name this time. Softer, deadlier, deeper.

A chill runs down my spine.

“You’re going to miss your boat if you just keep standing there,” I murmur, letting the edge of rage and desperation that’s clawing its way up from my gut turn the words into a threat. “Have a good night, Zandrel.”

Without waiting for him to say anything further, without looking back to see if he’s going to follow, I turn to go. I don’t hear the heavy thud of footsteps behind me, and the anger in my chest twists into something else with each meter of distance I put between us.

Sharper, more determined. A certainty pounding through me with each beat of my heart. My mind races with plans, possibilities, months of study and research and preparation leading right to this moment.

Looks like I might have just found my one best chance.