Sunday July 25

3:15pm PST

Our lips were crushed together, his tongue flicking against my lower lip, asking for permission to enter. My back was pressed against a large oak tree, one of the massive roots pressing into the back of my thigh. I could feel the rough bark scratching my back through the fabric of my shirt. He was all but lying on top of me, one hand grabbing roughly at my knee and the other, in contrast, gently playing with my hair. His crotch was pressed against me and I could feel a his growing erection pressing into me.

Through this entire ordeal of passion and carnage my hands were lying limply in my lap. My mind was telling me that I should be doing more, that my hands should be emulating his. My mind was telling me to open my mouth and allow him the chance to explore. My mind was telling me that I should be thrilled, ecstatic, elated. And yet, through this all, I was stiff, frozen with uncertainty.

You're probably wondering what I'm going on about. I'm sure you've figured out that I was kissing someone, but whom? How exactly did I get here? More importantly, why was I sitting there like a lump instead of returning the favor?

I guess I shouldn't be telling this thing out of order:


8:00am PST

My private date with Jack began early that morning with a small town car picking me up in front of the house. I had expected the ride to include Jack's company, but I was told I would be meeting him at another location. All I had for the ride was the random chattering of the driver to puncture the awkward silence. Though I couldn't understand what he was talking about, I was grateful for him and his conversation attempt because it helped take my mind off my analysis of the situation at hand. I had been thinking about it enough since I had woken up that morning. So far this was what I had: I was going on a private date with a millionaire. A very attractive millionaire. A millionaire whose love I was currently vying for along with seven other people. But was I salivating at the thought or rubbing it in my competitors' faces or even just smiling? Nope. I was just sitting there thinking about the smart aleck Italian who was back at the house…sleeping in his boxer shorts…with no shirt. Now that is salivation worthy.

I may be wrong, but something about that situation didn't seem very normal, at least not by reality TV standards.

The car pulled up in front of what looked like a small restaurant. The gold-letter sign above the small awning read "Autumn Gold" in a script font. I approached the door hesitantly, noticing the lack of other patrons in the restaurant. I glanced back at the driver who was standing patiently by the car. He shrugged in response.

"Blink!" I jumped, slightly startled. The door was open and Jack was standing there, shooting me his million dollar smile. "Sorry if I caught you by surprise there."

"Just a bit," I admitted. "Thank you for naming me the winner of the challenge last night."

He shook his head. "You earned it. I have to admit I was very impressed." He stepped to the side, holding the door open. "Perhaps you'll impress me even more today. Shall we?"

With my hands in my pockets I walked in. There wasn't a soul in sight, though I could hear the clinking of glasses and plates coming from a back room. Set up near the window was a table for two, set with two champagne flutes, two coffee cups (with saucers), and two large plates, each with a napkin folded properly on top. Jack pulled out one of the chairs, bade me to sit. "Can't say I've ever had a guy pull out a chair for me."

Jack grinned as he took his seat. "Stick around long enough and I'm sure you'll experience things you've never experienced before," he told me. I couldn't help but feel as though there was a teasing, sexual overtone to his statement.

"Ah, Mr. Kelly!" a woman cried with a slight French accent as she entered. She looked to be in her early forties with small bits of gray coming in near her temples. Her apron was crisp and perfectly clean with neither a smudge nor a crumb in sight. "How good to see you!" She rushed over to our table. Jack stood to meet her and they shared two air kisses. "And this must be the lucky man?" she asked looking at me with a sly grin.

"It certainly is. Brent," he said with a smile as I stood, "this is Autumn." We shared a smile and a handshake. "She owns this quaint little place and is one of the best cooks I've ever had the pleasure of knowing."

"You flatter me, Mr. Kelly," she said, giggling slightly.

"She usually closes her restaurant on Sunday, but she agreed to make an exception for me, offering to make us a special breakfast."

"Do you like omelets?" she asked as she poured coffee into our mugs.

"Sure," I said with a shrug.

"I'll take mine with cheddar cheese, mushrooms, and chives," Jack told her as he poured cream into his coffee.

"Um…I guess I'll have the same. Oh, but could I please have some bacon bits in there, ma'am?" God, did I just order bacon bits in an omelet? Is that really low class? Should I have gotten something more health conscious or more posh?

"Of course you may," she said in an almost patronizing tone. "Such a gentleman, with your 'please' and your 'ma'am.'"

"Would I settle for anything less?" Jack put in. "You know I only accept the very best." He threw me a wink and a smile and, though I returned the smile, I couldn't help but think, Wow, what an arrogant ass!

"Well, you young men get comfortable and I will be back soon with your orders," Autumn said as she made her way back to what I assumed was the kitchen area.

I took a sip of my coffee, my eyes darting about the deserted restaurant. "So…uh…she seems nice."

"Yes, she is," Jack said coolly. "You seem tense, Blink."

"I guess I'm just a little nervous," I explained. And I was, but not in the way Jack thought I meant. I was nervous that this date was going to get more intimate than I wanted and that I wouldn't know how to respond. Worse, I was nervous that we would find ourselves with nothing in common and nothing to talk about.

Jack, however, wasn't short on arrogance and immediately made the assumption that my nerves were due to being so awed by his presence. "Don't worry," he assured, his voice taking on a smooth, soothing tone, "I'm a person just like you."

Yeah, I kind of figured that out already, I thought, suppressing my urge to be a smartass.

The door to the kitchen flew open and Autumn reappeared, this time pushing a cart piled with a sizzling hotplate, various ingredients, and a pitcher of orange juice. She parked the cart right in front of our table and grabbed the pitcher. "I don't think it's too early for a mimosa," she chirped as she poured Jack a glass.

"Never too early," he agreed. He lifted his flute and held it out toward me. "Shall we toast?"

I followed suit, holding mine up to his. "Toast to what?"

Jack considered my question for a moment before asking, "Would 'To true love' be too cliché?"

I smiled, nodding slightly. "Only slightly less cliché than "To life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness." Beside us Autumn was busying herself, cracking the eggs and throwing in the ingredients for our omelets. "How about…to living in this moment and knowing that no matter where we go from here we'll always have the memory of this."

Jack tilted his head to the side and for the first time since I had met him I saw him drop the mask of "The Heir" and I saw him smile. Not one of his million dollar smiles that he gave everyone or one of his cheesy made-for-reality-TV smiles, but a true smile that didn't only come from his lips, but also from his eyes and his face. "I think I can agree to that," he said softly, clinking his flute against mine.

I threw back my flute, savoring the mixture of the sweet champagne and the tangy orange juice. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad.


11:45am PST

"You're going to want to step back on your right foot and extend your arm back. Then simply swing and follow through." Jack's body was pressed against mine, his arms wrapped around my body. We were standing on the tennis court of his country club and he was trying to improve my serve. At least that's what he claimed. Maybe I just fell for it. With his left hand resting on my waist, his right hand holding my wrist, and his face all but nuzzling my neck it seemed like his goal had nothing to do with tennis. I'm sure we were attracting spectators.

He stepped away from my body and I let out a breath I didn't even know I had been holding. "Give it a try without me," he instructed.

I threw the ball into the air, trying to stand as he had shown me. Then, with all my might, I spastically swung the racquet at the ball, squeezing my eye closed and hoping. I felt the racquet slip from my sweaty grip and opened my eye just in time to see it fly at the net and smash into the ground. The ball, on the other hand, had fallen right to the pavement and was currently bouncing behind me to where Jack stood. I could tell he was trying very hard not to laugh. Unfortunately he was failing miserably. "Oops," was all I could muster.

He bent down and scooped up the ball. "It's okay," he insisted, "I was worse than you when I first learned to play."

"Really," I asked skeptically. I picked up the racquet, glaring at it as though it was responsible for my lack of athletic ability.

"Well…no, actually I was pretty good," he admitted. He tossed me the ball. "But not everyone is good at tennis."

"Or golf," I added, thinking back to the hour before when Jack had tried to give me a crash course on the sport. Being a master of putt-putt I had assumed I would be at least decent. By the fifth time my ball flew into the lake I wanted to bend my club in half. Had I the muscle to do so I probably would have.

Jack shrugged in response. "It's not like playing football or basketball. These are different kinds of sports."

I didn't confide that I wasn't much better at football or basketball than I was at golf or tennis. Instead, I turned back to the net, narrowing my eye. I looked at the ball and racquet, willing them both to cooperate with me. I then positioned myself in the same stance, took a deep breathe, and threw the ball up.

Whack! My racquet connected with what I hoped was the ball. I opened my eye and saw it sail smoothly into the net. "Yes!" I cheered, jumping up and down. I didn't care that I hadn't even scored a point with my hit, I was just happy to have actually hit the ball.

As I did my impromptu victory dance I heard Jack snickering behind me. "I've never seen you this excited."

I smiled at him, feeling very comfortable. "Well, Jack, there's a lot you don't really know about me," I said in a flirtatious tone. At least I hoped it was flirtatious.

"You're right," he said with a small smile, "I haven't gotten to know you as well as I have many of the others." He retook his place behind me, situating his hands on my hips. "I hope this date will change that," he said softly into my ear. His hand gently slid down my arm to my wrist. I couldn't help but feel a moan forming in the back of my throat which increased as his groin pressed into my ass. His warm breath was flowing across my skin and I felt a small chill go down my spine in response.

"Right now I'm learning that when you blush it goes all the way to your ears and the back of your neck," he told me. Though I couldn't see his face I knew he was smiling smugly. "And when you are tense you ball up your fist."

I stood in my place, both willing him to continue his exploration of my body and willing him to step back and let me catch my breath. His right thumb was gently rubbing across the back of my hand while his left knee was pressed between my legs as though he was forcing them to stay open.

"How about we take this to the next level?"

Oh God, yes! My mind screamed. I managed to hold it in though, settling for a stammered response. "W-what?"

With that Jack stepped back, releasing my body from his grip. "The next level of your lesson," he said slyly. "Your tennis lesson."

I stood still, my heart finally returning to its normal pace. The fucking tease! He stiffed me and left me with a stiffy. I hated him for that…and yet I loved it in a perverse way. "Sure," I muttered. "Let's go on to the next level." I gripped the handle of the racquet tighter, wishing it were something else entirely.


12:30pm PST

I kept glancing around the small country club restaurant, noting how out of place I was. The men were all in either their golf ensemble or nice suits. The women were all in either their tennis outfits or nice summer dresses. Even the children were dressed in nice clothing. I, on the other hand, was wearing my khaki pants and a green button-up shirt. Yes, it was a step above ratty jeans and a T-shirt, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that these people didn't think I belonged there. I'd have felt better if Jack had been there with me, but he had gone off to talk to a colleague about business, making me look like some riff-raff who had managed to sneak past the guard.

"Can I help you, sir?" The waiter appeared at my side, eyeing me suspiciously.

"I'm here with someone," I explained. "He should be back soon." The waiter didn't look convinced. At least, not until Jack slid into the empty seat.

"I'm sorry," he said to me, "I just had to discuss some things with Mr. Whitmore quickly."

With that the waiter's eyes lit up. "Mr. Kelly! How are you today?" The waiter was fawning over Jack, all but pressing his lips against Jack's ass. "And who is this gentlemen?" he asked, looking at me as though he had not been about to throw me out on my ass mere seconds ago.

"This is Mr. Keller, a friend," he said. The waiter, though, smiled knowingly. I wondered how often Jack brought male friends to this club. Judging by some of the scowls we had received when he had kissed my cheek I had a feeling he didn't do it very often.

"Ah, yes, of course," the waiter said with a wink. "The usual?"

"Something light, I think. We're going to be eating a little later as well."

I looked at him curiously as the waiter walked off. "What are we doing later?"

He shook his head, wagging his finger at me. "You don't get to know just yet," he teased.

I smiled, taking a sip of my wine. Despite my previous lethargy, I had to admit that this date was turning out to be nice. Breakfast had been delicious and both golf and tennis, though tedious and frustrating, had been fun. And now we were sitting in a very nice restaurant sharing a bottle of Chardonnay as a woman set a lovely ambience by playing the harp.

My initial reaction to Jack had been that he was a snobby heir who would never actually be interested in a guy like me. I don't know if that was because he actually seemed snobby or because I was suffering from a lack of self-esteem, but I had spent the first hour or so inwardly sulking and hoping that this day would be over quickly.

Now, though, I was hoping it would last longer. I was learning a lot about Jack and about his life. He was an only child, like me, and had grown up with his father gone a lot. His parents had divorced when he was seven and he rarely saw his mother anymore. He had been raised more by nannies than he had by his parents and had spent the bulk of his life in boarding schools. "I'm sure you know it's not easy to be attracted to guys," he said, "but it's twice as difficult when you're at a preppy boarding school. I spent a lot of my time holed up in my room. I think if my father hadn't been so wealthy I would have been beat up on a daily basis instead of just ignored."

I know it sounds like your typical whiny rich kid, but I really felt for him. I was a little ashamed about my snap judgment earlier. I assumed that being rich made everything in life easy for you, not realizing how much added pressure you had to be the ideal person at all times. I'm not denying that coming out was hard for me, but at least I didn't have to worry about "sullying my family's name." At least I had someone there to back me up and support me.

The waiter returned to our table with two small bowls of soup and two small plates of salad. "The lobster bisque and a house salad," he informed us as he set the food down. "Bon appetite!"

Jack speared his fork through a piece of lettuce while I gulped down a generous portion of the bisque. "I feel awful because I get the feeling I've been monopolizing the conversation all day. Tell me about your family."

"Well, I'm an only child like you," I began, "but my dad isn't rich or anything. He left when I was five for some exotic dancer. He sends me a card every year with twenty dollars, but I haven't seen him since he left. So my mom raised me all by herself."

"And what does she do?"

"She did some temp work when I was growing up. She had been a housewife before my dad left and she never went to college, so she really didn't have many options. Finally she got a job at a small book store. She started as a sales clerk and worked her way up the chain. She also started taking night classes at a local community college when I was about twelve. When the owner retired about five years ago he left the store to my mother."

"Wow," he said with a very impressed look, "that's wonderful." He took a sip of wine. "I think that's a true success. I know everyone says my father was successful or that I'm successful, but the truth is neither of us really had to work to get where we did. We were just lucky." He placed his hand gently over mine, his thumb stroking my knuckle. "Your mother must be an amazing woman."

Despite the fact that she could be a pain at times, especially when she stuck her nose in my business, I felt a sense of pride for my mother. "Yes, she really is," I told him with a huge grin. "She'd like you a lot."

He chuckled slightly. "Would she now? I suppose she's looking for nice, wealthy in-laws?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I mean, I'm sure your wealth is an added perk," I admitted, "but she would just like what a kind and charming guy you are."

"I take it, then, that your mother has no problem with your attraction to men?"

"Nope. When I came out to her she said she just wanted me to be happy. I couldn't have asked for a more supportive mother." My finger was slowly sliding up and down the stem of my wine glass, my mind no longer on Jack and his winning smile, but on my mother. Ashamedly, I hadn't called her once since I had gotten to the house. "Now she spends all of her free time trying to find the perfect man for me."

Jack tightened his grip on my hand. "Maybe you'll find him soon," he whispered to me. I blushed, lowering my head to avoid him seeing it.

"Hopefully."


3:00pm PST

"Isn't this just a beautiful spot?" Jack asked as we sat on the large blanket that had been spread across the ground. We were in the middle of a park with a lake in front of us and various plants and flowers all around us. In the middle of the blanket was a picnic basket with a bottle of wine sticking out of it. I was beginning to get the impression that Jack was trying to get me drunk.

I swatted at a mosquito on my arm. "Beautiful," I echoed, though with less enthusiasm. After a small trek through the woods I'm sure I looked like a mess. I could feel mixtures of sweat and dirt trailing down my face as the sun beat down on us.

If Jack noticed my lack of enthusiasm he didn't mention it. He busied himself with opening the wine and pouring glasses for both of us. I peeked inside the basked and saw an array of cheeses, crackers, and fruits inside. I also spotted desserts of some kind stashed in the back. My stomach grumbled in anticipation. The meal at the country club hadn't exactly been fulfilling and I was salivating at the sight of food.

Jack caught my look of hunger and laughed. "Blink, please eat!"

"Are you sure?" I asked, not wanting to be rude.

He reached in and grabbed the container of cheeses and handed them to me with a pack of crackers. "Eat," he ordered. "The last thing I want is for you to pass out from hunger. Then how will I entertain myself?" he added with a sly smirk.

I didn't bother to respond to the comment. I was too busy spreading a cheese across one of the crackers. I popped it in my mouth and practically groaned. "This is good," I said, forgetting that I shouldn't talk with food in my mouth.

"That's gouda cheese," he informed me. "The others are feta, brie, and edam."

I was only half listening as I continued to savor the food. I didn't really care what any of them were called as long as they tasted as good as the first one. I took a generous gulp of wine before preparing myself another cheese-laden cracker.

Jack was picking at a bunch of red grapes, gently biting into them. His focus, though, never left me. "Would you like one?" he asked, offering a grape to me. When I reached for it, though, he pulled it from my grasp. "Open your mouth," he instructed.

"Jack, I don't think—"

"Open," he repeated and I, rolling my eye, obliged. He reached his fingers in and dropped the grape on my tongue. I closed my mouth just as he was pulling his fingers out. I don't know if I closed too soon or if he intentionally lingered, but I managed to catch the fingers between my lips. He pulled them out slowly, allowing his fingers to linger and rub along my lips. I knew it was supposed to be a flirtatious act and that I was supposed to be aroused, but as it happened all I could think was Ew, where have his hands been? I probably would have actually said this had my mouth not been busying chewing a grape.

He grabbed a strawberry, lay back, and began simply sucking on it as though it were the most natural thing to do. He bit into the fruit and a small dribble of juice trailed along his thumb. He offered me his entire hand and I couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "No thanks."

He raised his eyebrows at my response but didn't say anything. Instead, he began sucking at the juice, his eyes still trained on me. "You should try the fruits," he said between sucks.

I know he was trying to turn me on, to make me want him, but as I watched him licking his own hand I had an urge to laugh. It was so ridiculously over the top, so forced. There was nothing really sexy about it aside from Jack being a very attractive man. It was like a high school girl's idea of what a guy wants her to do to be sexy. "Maybe I will," I told him, holding the laugh down inside. While I certainly wasn't going to respond to his "flirtatious eating" the way he wanted, I also didn't want to bruise his ego.

"There are also some chocolate strawberry tortes in there," he informed me, still sucking on the tip of his finger. "Let me get you one."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already pulling out one of the tortes and I had to admit it looked delicious. He scooped a bit of chocolate off the top and held his finger out to me. Not wanting to be rude I closed my mouth around the finger, swirling my tongue around to lap up the chocolate. I noticed Jack moan softly and I found myself doing the same, not because I was so turned on by this pseudo-erotic act but because the chocolate was damned delectable. It made me forget that I had a foreign finger in my mouth.

Jack must have mistaken my moan to mean something more, though, because only moments after it came out he had pulled himself closer. He ran his knuckles down my cheek to my chin, his thumb stroking my lower lip. His eyes were looking down my body and he was looking at me with the same hunger I had looked at the basket with only minutes before. His hunger, though, was quite different from mine. In moments we were pressed together, with his hands grabbing at me and his mouth on top of mine.

Our lips were crushed together, his tongue flicking against my lower lip, asking for permission to enter. My back was pressed against a large oak tree, one of the massive roots pressing into the back of my thigh. I could feel the rough bark scratching my back through the fabric of my shirt. He was all but lying on top of me, one hand grabbing roughly at my knee and the other, in contrast, gently playing with my hair. His crotch was pressed against me and I could feel a his growing erection pressing into me.

Through this entire ordeal of passion and carnage my hands were lying limply in my lap. My mind was telling me that I should be doing more, that my hands should be emulating his. My mind was telling me to open my mouth and allow him the chance to explore. My mind was telling me that I should be thrilled, ecstatic, elated. And yet, through this all, I was stiff, frozen with uncertainty.

Wait, you already know this, don't you? Sorry!

So why exactly was I not responding to his display of affection? It's not that he was a bad kisser. It's certainly one of the best I've had; the type that makes you see fireworks. It's also not that I'm so inexperienced in kissing that I don't know how to properly respond. I knew what I was supposed to do and I was certainly seeing a few roman candles exploding here and there. But at the core it felt so empty. There was a sense of lust and a sense of passion behind his actions, but no sense of actual care.

Yes, I am one of those crazy people who prefer not to have sex with someone just for the sake of sex. Sure Jack and I had done a bit of flirting earlier and yes we had gotten a bit touchy-feely. In my mind I wanted it to go further, but that was when I was thinking with my groin. I would have stopped it before it went too far. I'm very particular about what my lips touch and about what…well…goes inside of me. I've done the whole "anonymous sex" thing and every time it's left me feeling hollow and more alone than before. When I get intimate with someone I mean it and I want them to mean it in return. Because of this some people have called me a romantic; others have called me a prude.

Whatever it makes me, I knew as Jack was working his tongue into my mouth that I couldn't let this go any further. If I did I would just be leading him on. I grabbed a hold of his hands and gently pulled my lips away from his. He looked at me expectantly. "I think we're moving a bit too quickly," I said softly. "I really like you and I've really had a great time today, but I don't want to suddenly jump into something like this." As I said the words I knew I was sealing my fate. I've watched enough episodes of The Bachelor to know that anyone who hesitates when it comes to getting intimate is given the boot at the next elimination. While I had already done some embarrassing and out-of-character things on this show I didn't want to do something that would affect me emotionally. "Can we just take it slow?"

Jack looked disappointed, but he wasn't about to force anything on me—at least I hoped not. "Come on," he urged. "You didn't seem to mind how close we were getting at the club."

My cheeks and ears flared up. "I know, but there's a difference between a little flirting and this. I just don't want to rush into anything."

He looked into my eyes, almost pleading. "I really want to get to know you better."

I smiled wryly. "You don't need to know my body to know me."

He let out a soft yet frustrated sigh. "If that's what you want…I guess I have to respect it," he conceded in a tone that indicated what he was feeling wasn't respect.

With that the perfect date ended with perfectly awkward silence.


4:45pm PST

Jack and I were taking the car back to the house to meet everyone else for dinner. He was pressed against his side, eyes looking dazedly out the window. I had been hoping that a limo would pick him up at the end of the date and take him to some important business dinner, but my luck had run out.

After I stopped our kiss we kept our conversation to a minimum, talking about how good the food was or what a nice breeze was coming off the lake. Jack hardly glanced at me and made no move to touch me, not even to hold hands. When we packed up and made the trek back to the car he walked briskly ahead, not even glancing back to make sure I was still with him.

I rested my head against the window, unsure of what to think about the situation. On the one hand I was glad I had spoken and that I hadn't allowed him to over power me; on the other hand I hated that I had ruined what we had spent the day building up. It wasn't the first time a guy had gotten angry with me for not wanting to jump right in so quickly, but it was the first time it had happened with a guy I liked as much as Jack.

I know what my mother would have said if I had talked to her about it. "Brent, it is not your job to do everything this man tells you to do," she would tell me. "If something makes you uncomfortable it's your heart's way of telling you it isn't right. You need to listen to it. If he can't handle that then he doesn't respect you and if he doesn't respect you then you really shouldn't have anything to do with him."

She would be right, of course, but I would still feel rotten.

The car pulled up to the house and Jack and I wordlessly walked into the mansion. "I'm not very hungry," I announced to him, "so I think I'll skip dinner and just head up to my room." He didn't respond, but gave me a small wave as he made his way to the dining room where I assumed the other contestants were waiting for dinner to be served.

I sprinted up the stairs to the room and flopped down on the bed. There wasn't another soul in sight. I was left all alone to sulk. "God, I'm a baby," I muttered. "The last thing I need to do is sit here feeling sorry for myself."

Looking up I saw my cell phone sitting atop my suitcase and I decided to take my mind off the entire Jack situation. I grabbed the phone, dialed the number, and lay back down as it rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, mom."

"Brent! Darling!" I could hear the excitement in her voice and it made me smile. "Oh, how are you?"

I rolled over on my stomach. "I'm fine," I lied. "Everything is going fine here."

"That's wonderful, sweetie. I was getting so worried because you hadn't called me. I suppose that's because you were having so much fun."

"Um, yeah, that's it," I said smiling at her excitement.

"You have to tell me all about it. What is this man like? Is he nice? Have you done anything exciting?"

"Actually mom, I'm not allowed to discuss anything. It's part of the contract."

"Yes, of course, dear. I suppose it'll be more fun if I just wait and see."

My mind went to the skinny dipping and bull riding incidents. "Yeah, mom, I'm sure you'll be thrilled when it finally airs," I told her, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. "I just wanted to know how you're doing."

"I'm fine, sweetie. Business is fine. Oh, your cousin Laura is pregnant. You remember Laura?"

"Not really," I said, racking my brain.

"Well she's a second cousin. Anyway, she's pregnant. She and her fiancé are pushing up the wedding to this September I think. You'll be home by then, so you may want to go. You could even bring this new man as your date."

"Well, I haven't won yet, mom." I'm not sure she completely grasped the concept that this was a competition.

"Well, I'm sure you'll do well. I just hope you're happy."

There was a pause. "I am happy, mom." And I wasn't lying. While I was still distraught over today's events, I was still very happy. "I don't need to win this to be happy." There was a soft knock at the door. "I have to go," I told her. "I love you."

"I love you too, sweetie. I hope to see you soon!"

"I'm sure you will," I said. Especially after what I did today, I added in my mind as I closed the phone.

I shuffled to the door and threw it open. On the other side was a very abashed Jack, standing with his hands shoved in his pockets and his head hanging slightly. I noticed there were no cameras following him. "Hey, Blink," he began sheepishly, "I just wanted to apologize for acting the way I did."

"Oh," I said, blinking in surprise. "It's okay," I lied.

"No, it's not," he insisted. "I acted like a Grade A jerk and I'm sorry. I guess I'm just so used to having people fall all over me…it was just kind of a blow to my ego."

"Jack, I think you're really cute," I told him, "and I'd like to go further with you eventually. I just don't want to rush in and potentially ruin things."

He nodded in understanding. "That's really smart and really admirable. I really do respect that, Blink."

I snickered. "I guess I'm not the reality show type, huh?"

He shrugged. "Who cares? I'm more interested in finding someone who is my type." He took a step closer, adding, "And I think you may fit the bill." He gave me a soft kiss on the cheek. "I just hope you won't judge me by my actions today."

"I won't," I promised. He bade me good-bye and I slowly closed the door. I leaned back against it, allowing my hand to touch the cheek where he had kissed me. I felt like a prepubescent girl, but I didn't care. Why didn't I care? Because a gorgeous guy had just told me he respected me and then kissed me on the cheek. That would be enough to send even the butchest man into a blushing frenzy, I think. Maybe that's what I told myself to feel manly.

I lay back on the bed, not tired, but not really wanting to actually do anything. As I lay there I realized that during our entire date that day I hadn't thought about Racetrack once.


As always, reviews, especially ones with constructive criticism, are always appreciated. Thank you to everyone who has been reviewing, especially those of you who reviewed when it looked like this fic was dead. You help keep me going!