Matched (23 page)

Is this really happening? He’s shutting me out?

Unsure of where to start, I dive in headfirst. “What’s going on between us, Oakley? You said nothing would change.” A sob bubbles in my throat. “Sure doesn’t feel that way.”

He sighs and finally looks up. “
My
Harlow would never get on me in front of a group of people—and especially for another guy, who just so happened to have licked her body! That’s
my
body! So you tell me
who’s
changing.” He raises a brow, pinning the blame on me.

“Are you serious?” I’m about to go all the way off as I throw my arms out to the side, bamboozled by how many ways I think he’s wrong. “Oakley, he licked me for a
game
, on the show
you
brought me on, while you were licking another girl! Surely you can see the hypocrisy in that logic!”

He shrugs a shoulder, and an actual growl rips from my throat. “And again, I. Was. Defending. Emma. But you, egging him on to kick someone’s ass? What the hell was that about?
My
Oakley wouldn’t provoke violence.” My head droops; I’m weary and disheartened. “I gotta be honest, it was a very ugly side of you—one that we should’ve discussed last night rather than let further distance build between us.”

Oakley leaps to his feet, and I flinch at the anger radiating off his powerful frame. “You wanted me to come to your room—
his
room—and talk?” He scoffs. “Get real.”

“No, you could’ve crossed the Great Room and talked with me then, rather than Peyton and Nadia on the patio! How’s that one my fault?”

The intercom crackles to life with a “Fifteen minutes till challenge” warning, and I know this conversation’s going to end in futile frustration if I don’t lay it all on the line right now.

He runs his hands through his short hair. “Listen, we both made mistakes. Let’s just cool down and talk after the challenge, all right?” He gives me a half-hearted smile of appeasement, which unfortunately has the opposite effect.

“No.” My head shakes frantically. “I can’t keep burying my head in the sand. We both know there’s something deeper going on here.” I step closer and cup his face, needing to convey the importance of this conversation and how much I love him, now and always, as I allow the truth to tumble out. “We’re not kids anymore, Oak. I’m so much more than your innocent, doting cheerleader now. I want things—for us, but for me too. Do you understand?”

The warm bristle of tears drowns my vision, but there’s no mistaking the pain scrolling behind his somber eyes.

He yanks himself away, putting even more insurmountable distance between us. “So what then, huh?” he snips.

A long pause divides us, but I dare to say the words that come out in a crippled whisper.

“I think we should take a break.”

“A break? Christ!” His pulls at his hair further, frustration overpowering any possible trace of compassion or a solution that I long to hear in his voice.

I step closer again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Oakley. Tell me you really believe we’re soulmates, and that we just need some time to get to know each other again—that I’ll complete you in every way if we get married, while still being true to myself.” Sobs escape as I plea louder, grasping his hands in mine. “Tell me you want me to be more than happy at your side, successful and independent in my own right—that you love me even though I can’t be your cheerleader every day. Because I can’t, Oakley. I’m not a teenager anymore. I want my
own
things in life, a career, a man who’s as proud of me as I am of him, and…” I suck in a deep breath. “Someday, I’m gonna want babies—maybe two or three, I don’t know—but I need you to be honest with me…with yourself.”

“Har,” he exhales sadly, his hand finding my face. I lean instantly into the familiar touch.

“I’ll always love you, Oakley. You were my first everything, and I’ll cherish that forever. But I can’t marry you. I love you too much to pretend we’re meant to be.”

And slowly, I slide the treasured ring off my finger.

“No!” His eyes are wide—almost terrified.

“Please don’t be angry. I’m not angry with you. I won’t ever not care about you. Anything, anytime, I’ll be right there—your oldest friend. Please,
please
Oakley…say you agree this is right,” I beg, holding out the tiny island ring.

His eyes are on mine as he grabs the ring and smashes it in his fist.

“O-Oakley,” I stutter, watching him throw it across the room.

“I brought you here to show you how perfect we are together, and you’re breaking up with me?” He leans in close, his breath hitting my lips. “You’re right, you’re
not
my Harlow!”

He stalks out, leaving me standing there, alone and eerily free.

Well, it’s not the first time.

“Harlow?”

I turn to find Adam behind me in the doorway. I’m uncertain how long I’ve been standing in the exact same spot. “Sorry, but they’re waiting for you on the beach.”

“Right.” I sweep my thumb under my eyes. “Bet you’re having a fantastic day!” I smart off, rolling my eyes. “Met your drama quota before lunch. Lucky you.” I brush past him, but he snares my arm.

“You knew about the cameras when you signed on. I won’t apologize for that.”

“True, and now I know I want to sign
off
.” I head to my room and hear him follow me. “I’m leaving.”

I rip my bag out of the closet, and déjà vu of Court attempting the same move last night smacks me in the face. It’s beyond repulsive what this house does to people.

“I can’t make you stay,” Adam says impassively from somewhere. Always the lurker.

“No, you can’t. So don’t try.”

“Fine. I’ll let everyone know.”

I peek over my shoulder to watch him step into the hall, only to swivel back a moment later. “Although a few people aren’t going to take it so well—that is, except Jensen. He knows you’re cockblocking him from a certain someone, so I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

Is he kidding me with this?
“If you’re interested in Jasmine, go tell her. Leave me out it.”

“And then of course there’s Emma,” he continues, completely ignoring my words. “If you leave, who’s gonna keep Cruz on a leash?”

I’m fast to lunge his way, stopping only when we’re toe to toe. He doesn’t so much as blink. I poke his chest, the designer suit he’s wearing doing nothing to hide the ripples of taut muscles underneath.

“Don’t you
dare
try to lay a guilt trip on me! And unless you want your fancy ass kicked,” I say, flicking his tie, “I wouldn’t refer to Cruz as a dog, either!”

“Or what?” His lip quirks. “You’ll sick ’im on me?”

“I hate this place!” I snap, adrenaline pumping so fast and hard I feel lightheaded. “This show! These cameras!” I grab the first thing I see and throw it at the globe mounted in the corner. “You’re messing with my head, and I want out.”

“No.” The finality in his voice startles me. “You don’t give up that easily. I’ve seen you fight this long. You don’t get to walk away now.”

“Are you insane?” My hands tremble at my sides. “It’s just a ridiculous TV show. You can’t make me stay.”

He leans back against the doorjamb and crosses his arms, looking unnervingly comfortable. “Did you know Oakley was offered a spot on
Celebrity Treasure Hunters
?”

My face scrunches up. “What?”

“The network put together a lineup of celebs for the show, but Oakley turned it down. Said he heard about
Date, Mate, Fate
and wanted in. ‘Why?’ should be your next question, Harlow.”

Oakley could’ve been on a different show?
I want to be angry, but what’s the point? Still, I open my mouth and the word drips out. “Why?”

“Said he had a high-school sweetheart he thought was the one, but…” He pauses annoyingly for emphasis. “He needed a chance to find out for sure before he moved her back into his life completely.”

The bottom of my stomach drops out, and I literally wince from the stab of betrayal.
Oakley doubted our relationship before the show?

“Doesn’t matter anymore. He hates me, and I’m not about to stick around and watch the sluts in this house take advantage of his new single status.”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“STOP WITH THE GAMES ALREADY!” I scream, exhaustion seeping in as the adrenaline fades. “We are real people, Mr. Producer Man, with real feelings. God, how would you like it if someone mocked your pain—glorified it to pay for their fourth Mercedes?”

“I wouldn’t willingly put myself on a reality show.”

“I did it for Oakley.”

“I know that, and I think you’ll find that you, too, gained some invaluable things from being here. Harlow, Oakley’s not angry with you—he’s disappointed that his hunch was correct all along and that he dragged you both through this unnecessarily. He knows you’re right—spot-on, if you ask me—about the two of you. Gotta be hard for him to swallow, facing the fact that he’s lost a girl like you.

“But people change every single day, and it’s nobody’s fault. I have no doubt you can still salvage a friendship. You’re both good people—just not each other’s person. If you leave now, you risk ruining multiple relationships in this house. Is that who you are—someone who walks away when things get too tough or uncomfortable?”

He starts to walk out, but not without a few parting words. “By the way…I know Cruz, and he’d kick my ass over letting you walk away a lot sooner than he would over my dog reference. Think about it. I’ll delay the mini challenge for thirty minutes to give you some time.”

“Can’t I miss one? Em—”

“That wasn’t a challenge they missed, Harlow. Thirty minutes.”

He leaves me with that suffocating glimpse of time to decide on my next move. I slouch down on Miles’ bed, my temples pounding as I struggle to stay afloat amid a tsunami of tears.

Confessional: Oakley Abrams

“I’m supposed to be at the challenge right now, but I don’t give a shit. I need a minute, and it’s in everyone’s best interest I take it, trust me. Plus, you get a confessional outta me. Everyone happy now? Excellent, ’cause you know that’s what matters—that everyone out there is feeling it, chillin’ in their living room, munching on popcorn or whatever, enjoying me getting kicked in the fucking gut.

“I’m guessing you already saw Harlow give back the ring and break off our engagement—probably the shortest in the history of engagements. Hell, I’m sure the producers are getting off on the footage they no doubt captured. Vultures, all of ’em.

“I swear to God, they open this door with a cue card asking how I feel about it and heads will fuckin’ roll. How the hell am I supposed to feel? ’Cause right now, I think this shit sucks. I could’ve been on some other island for a different show, having fun, but instead I came here with her. Why? ’Cause I wanted to give her the whole fuckin’ world. But that goddamned computer had to go and fuck everything up. If it had labeled us soulmates, we’d be on vacation somewhere, just the two of us. I planned to move her into my condo and wife her up. And now look at us.

“I don’t even know how I’m gonna pretend I don’t love her. I can’t just make that shit stop. I fell when I was seventeen, and for almost three years she was mine, always at my side. Even after I left to play pro ball, I knew she’d be waiting when I came home to visit. And she was. Every time.

“And now what? If she’d stopped to think rationally before just bailing, she’d realize how much I care. She knows I would’ve let her do her wedding thing. Everyone needs a hobby.

“Shit, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just pissed. I need some fucking air. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea…I can’t think straight.”

Chapter 16

I don’t need the full half hour to decide—I need to suck it up and play the game. If I’m lucky, I’ll be matched up with someone I can stand and sent on some luxurious vacation before I trudge back to school and my measly job at the truck stop. Miles wouldn’t be so bad to travel somewhere with. Peyton either, if I keep earplugs handy. His closet transgression is long forgiven after that last elimination.

Blocking out the lingering fears, I wash my face, pull my hair into a high ponytail, and muster a smile. My mother does always say, “It’s impossible to be frumpy when your hair’s in a ponytail.”

Halfway down the stairs, I spot Callie sitting at the bottom. She stands when I reach her and walks at my side, saying nothing, but her support is there. She’s a friend I know I’ll keep after we leave this place—one who doesn’t need to ask a thousand questions about what just happened, yet the unspoken offer to listen is heard.

We make it down to the beach and find everyone standing around, chatting in groups. But the moment they see me, I’ve captured their full attention. Callie takes my hands as Jasmine walks over and stands at my other side.

“You need anything, I’m right here,” she whispers.

“Thanks,” is all I can get out before Tom announces his exuberant, “Good morning!”