A week had passed since Rosella agreed to the mini selection and five days since the disastrous interview. Lexie had kept her entirely in the dark, promising to take care of everything. Her father informed her that the boy had come to work on Monday (and every day since) and was slowly learning the bakery's rhythm.

On Tuesday, she dropped the twins off at their classmate's house in her family's ratty old minivan, passed along three generations and miraculously still alive. Wednesday passed by in a blur because Rosella spent most of her time sneezing on the couch, wrapped in a chunky grey wool blanket she had knitted back in high school when she thought another form of creativity would boost her idea-generating brainpower. Aidan came over that day to drop off a bag of potatoes because his mother over-bought. Randel seemed to catch her flu on Thursday, so she spent the day boiling chicken soup and playing Conspiracy Theories with her sisters. Rosella hadn't seen Lexie at all that week, so she knocked on the Halls' door on Thursday evening and asked if Lexie wanted to join her for dinner in town. Unusually jittery, Lexie agreed, and they went out for soup noodles at the town's only Chinese restaurant.

It was Friday afternoon. Rosella rechecked her watch: seven minutes to four o'clock, and 45 seconds since she last looked. She glanced at her bedroom mirror to make sure her hair looked brushed (the fourth mirror check in the last hour) and ran a hand along the side of her white t-shirt, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles. People often mistook the tiny yellow lightning bolt she stitched in the bottom corner to reference Pokémon's Pikachu. It took too much time to contradict them, so Rosella just agreed.

Stopping for a moment to tuck her shirt into her boyfriend shorts, she untucked them after a moment's deliberation, only to tuck them in again with a sigh. Heh, boyfriend shorts, what a coincidence. She had an idea of what was planned for her afternoon but didn't want to jump to conclusions. Rosella started down the stairs, half her brain dreading the near-future while the other traitorous half looked forward to it.

Reaching the foyer, Rosella grabbed her favorite thin blue jacket and her brown leather crossbody bag (with tassels, of course). She pulled on her canvas sneakers, which used to be white but now were a blue-purple-white galaxy-print – result of Lexie last year with a few pens and some spare time. Rosella was mad at first but couldn't deny that they looked way cooler – which she would never tell Lexie, of course. She'd have no white clothes left in her closet if she did.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. Calm down!

"Goodbye, Dad! I'm hanging out with Lexie," she called to her father. He looked up from the newspaper and gave her a smile and an awkward arm-jerking motion (still holding the newspaper), that she took as a wave. The twins were at a pottery class, so they wouldn't be back until around half past five in the evening.

"See you later, sweetie."

The door closed with a soft click, and Rosella jumped onto her bike, racing down her street to the bakery. As she swerved through the narrow alleyways, she recalled yesterday's events and the very reason she was on her bike now.

Lexie skipped along ahead of Rosella, swinging a bag of leftover noodles dangerously.

"Stop jumping around. It's not good for digestion if you..." Rosella stopped and gestured vaguely at Lexie. "If you move around like that after dinner."

"No, I- wait, you're right, Ro. Let's hurry home." Lexie slowed down and walked a few steps back to Rosella, sliding her arm through the latter's. Rosella eyed Lexie, suspicious.

"What is it? Who are you? What happened to the Lexie who loves arguing with me?"

Lexie laughed but didn't say anything. Rosella rolled her eyes, confident that Lexie would burst sooner or later. Lexie's house came into view after a few minutes of walking, and Lexie whipped around to face her friend, still holding onto her arm.

"Tomorrow at four, meet me at the bakery. Wear something nice, and prepare to be there for a while." Lexie spoke quickly and hopped from foot to foot lightly, blue eyes darting from Rosella to her house.

"What? Okay, but why-"

But Lexie took off laughing, blonde ponytail waving in the darkness and disappearing behind her door. "You'll like it, I promise!" She called.

Deciding she wasn't up for a sprint to chase Lexie down, Ro shook her head and turned on her heel to head home.

Rosella hit the brakes and came to a shuddering stop in front of the bakery. The sign was flipped to Closed, and the giant cork board by the door had a large empty space in the middle. She parked her bike by the stand and took a deep breath, tilting her head up to feel the warm summer breeze brush past her cheeks.

Blue skies, fluffy clouds. 3:57 PM. Here we go.

Rosella glanced up from her watch and opened the door.

"Here she is, folks. The queen has officially entered the scene." Lexie paused whatever indiscernible thing she was saying before looking up from behind the counter. Seven multicolored heads swiveled 180 degrees to look at the intruder. Rosella caught eyes with Lexie, who mouthed HOT, pointing at boys sitting in front of her, two to each round table. Rosella let out a small laugh and rolled her eyes, but shivered inside at all the new faces. Her eyes travelled over them, too overwhelmed to focus on a particular person.

The Selected? My Selected? More signed up than I expected… Oh, shoot— introductions.

Feeling the hairs along her arms stand up from the cooler indoor temperature, Rosella gave a nervous little wave before her hair fell in her face, and she squeaked in surprise. Quite mortified, she quickly brushed it aside and henceforth decided never to think of that terrible introduction again. Thankfully, nobody had snorted or made fun of her, making it easier for her to form words and project them.

"Afternoon, everybody. Welcome to…" Rosella trailed off and gestured to the scene before her, hands performing circle motions in Lexie's direction. "Whatever the mastermind has planned for today." Her audience chuckled, and Lexie grinned.

"Thanks, Ro. They've been here for the past half hour, though. Come take a seat." Lexie pointed at the booths, where Rosella could sit comfortably and see both Lexie and the Selected without twisting her neck.

Professional face, immediately.

Rosella mentally slapped herself because of course the boys would get here first, and, holding onto her shoulder bag in case it slipped off, power-walked to the booth nearest. She halted before she could sit down, realizing that closest to the door meant closest to the boys and farthest from Lexie. Quickly making up her mind, she moved a few steps to the next booth over (two from Lexie and one from the door).

Aware that the entire crowd was watching her, Rosella sat facing the counter and lifted her bag strap over her head, setting the bag down on the table. Mentally groaning, Rosella turned her attention to her best friend with her best poker face, adamantly avoiding looking at the Selected. She noticed that the round tables had packets of paper on them, placed in a way that told her each packet belonged to a Selected.

Lexie nodded and spoke again to the boys seated in front of her. "Don't lose them, alright? Now, I'm going to recap what we just talked about for Ro's benefit and anyone who fell asleep." Rosella matched the image in front of her to a teacher standing before an 8th-grade classroom, and she stifled a laugh.

One boy sitting in the back must have heard her because he looked sideways and shot her a confused smile. Tousled light brown hair with straight eyebrows and a red varsity team jacket, the hesitant grin cracked open his features to make him look even more dazzling.

Get a hold of yourself, Ella! It's not like you haven't seen a pretty boy before. Sure, he probably models with puppies and does athletic swimming, but stop it. Just stop it. Breathe.

Rosella forced the smile from her face and gave him a straight-faced, acknowledging nod before focusing again on Lexie. She missed his response if there was one.

"Rosella will be sitting outside, and I will direct you, one at a time, out the door, where you'll have a quick chat before coming back inside. Then Rosella and I will talk privately while you guys put your names in a hat. Rosella will then pick 2 boys to be the lucky firsts to take her out on a date."

The boys nodded, and Lexie looked at Rosella. "Sounds good, Ro?"

"Sounds perfect, Lexie. I'll head out now then?"

Lexie nodded and produced a giant notepad from behind her. Mumbling to herself, Lexie made a swiping motion with her pen, like she was ticking an objective off a checklist.

"Don't forget your items!" She called to the boys, who all mumbled yesses and okays in response.

Mentally preparing for the incoming blast of heat, Rosella took one last longing glance at the air-con on the wall and opened the door. Sitting down on one of the metal chairs outside the bakery, Rosella got busy making one of the most challenging choices of her life.

Crossed ankles or crossed legs? Knees together with the bottom spread out or straight all the way? Hands clasped or folded? On the table, the armrests, or in my lap? Why is sitting so hard all of a sudden? Just—

Her thinking was cut off when the first boy appeared by the door. He cut a tall, burly figure that seemed to draw in sun rays and simultaneously cast them out. Out of instinct, Rosella shot to stand and offered her hand.

"My name's Jim Hammer," he said, coming forward to shake it. Rosella gestured at the table, and they both sat down.

"I'm Rosella Cooke," she said confidently. "…But I guess you already knew that," she added, less confidently.

Jim chuckled and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "Yeah, I did. So, what do you do?"

"Well, I'm a business and entrepreneurship major at CPU, with a minor in creative writing." Rosella let out a relieved sigh in her mind, thankful that he had started the conversation and that awkward silence wasn't going to be a problem where he was involved. "And you?"

"I'm a metalsmith, actually, for my family's workshop."

Rosella took in his muscled physique and the hardened skin around his fingertips, which left no room for doubt. Remembering that Lexie had mentioned they brought items, she asked Jim what that was all about.

He nodded and told her that during the Lexie-interviews on Sunday, she had ordered them to bring something that represented them in the best sense. Rosella agreed mentally that this wasn't such a bad idea.

"So, what's your item?"

"I didn't bring one."

"Ah," she winced inwardly, hoping it wouldn't turn into an awkward silence, which involved her fiddling with her hands while he stared at the floor. She was about to ask about the kinds of books he read when he quickly mumbled a few words, looking hesitant.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." Rosella was feeling a bit sweaty in her jacket but didn't want to take it off in front of him.

Jim winced but then noticeably steeled himself and looked Rosella directly in the eye. "I… have a confession to make. It's related to why I didn't bring anything today."

Wary, Rosella nodded slowly, hoping that he wasn't a serial killer or a manufacturer of bombs or ate spaghetti Bolognese with kimchi.

"Truth is, I signed up under false pretenses." He waved his hands, suddenly alarmed. "I'm not saying you're ugly or boring or whatever."

Rosella chuckled to herself. She didn't even have time to process his first statement before he rushed to defend her dignity.

Jim continued, "I briefly skimmed the poster on the town hall activities' pinboard, and well, I assumed it was advice on winning the heart of your own neighbor. Not, er, looking for someone new." Finished, he leaned back and waited for a reaction.

Unsure of whether to be happy for him or sad to lose somebody on the first day of the competition, Rosella shook her head. The first day and you're already catching feels? Stop it, me. She grinned, deciding in a heartbeat to aid Jim's conquest of a heart that wasn't hers. Then she paused, remembering a crucial detail from the poster that would have prevented Jim from getting this far.

"Didn't the poster mention signups at the library? Wouldn't you have gotten more information from Lexie there on Sunday?"

Jim smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "You see, I went and met with Lexie, but I only caught the first few words because, well, he was there. And I showed up here today because I didn't want it to seem like I stood you up."

Rosella waggled her eyebrows in understanding before she returned to a straight face and asked what he planned to do moving forwards – with the semi-selection and his crush.

"I figured you'd eliminate me. As for him, I don't know yet. I first saw him about 2 months ago when his mother came to the shop for some bronze wall décor, and he was just browsing on the side. Almond eyes pinned on the wire vase…"

Once when Rosella was six years old, her mother left on an eight-day long business trip. She remembered being incredibly bored, and like the child she was, decided that if she didn't see her mother soon, she'd forget all about her. Unable to physically see Leanne, Rosella asked her father to describe her. He picked her up, placed her on his lap, and proceeded to describe Leanne's appearance. Straight blond hair, piercing eyes, a splatter of freckles mostly on the left side of her face, it was hard to see the resemblance of mother and daughter. Rosella tugged her father's nose and demanded to hear what Leanne was like. Gently guiding her chubby fingers away from brutally stabbing his face, Randel's voice turned hazy, and his eyes distant as he described his wife's attributes. Straightforward but calm manner, a gleam in her eyes when she won an argument, and the strange but endearing commitment to being always punctual. Young Rosella thought he was getting tired, but as she got older, she realized it was the face and sound of a person in love.

"We talked that day, and I found out he liked looking at interesting pieces because he worked as a set designer for theaters. Many times, he said, he could find the make-or-break piece of a scene by just entering a woodwork or metalsmith shop. He bought that wire vase, and I saw him again when I delivered it to his house the next week."

Describing his mystery crush, Jim's voice and faraway expression were the closest she'd heard and seen to her father's that day. Jim had drifted off and Rosella was lost in the memory. Neither were aware that they were both sitting in silence. A knock on the door startled the reminiscing pair, and Rosella glanced at the bakery's entrance to see a boy gazing expressionlessly at the occupied table. She turned to find Jim looking at her, and Rosella nodded to confirm his elimination.

Grinning, he stood up and offered her a hug, to which she accepted with a smile of her own. One of the tallest boys she had ever seen made his way to the table and peered down at her as Jim let himself back into the bakery.

"My name is Miles Xavier Hori, and I'm here to see if you've committed any crimes against the crown."

Rosella had a wild imagination at times – the knitting may or may not have helped – but this wasn't close to anything she had expected today. "I'm sorry, what?" She blustered, mentally going over that one sentence repeatedly to confirm she hadn't heard it wrong.

He sighed and spoke slower like he was talking to a toddler. "I'm a lawyer. Come from the palace. King Maxon? Here to see if this semi-selection you've" – he pointed at Rosella – "conducted breaks any laws."

If there was one thing Rosella couldn't take, it was being treated like this. Randel often said this stubborn streak came from her mother, but Rosella hoped no woman tolerated being spoken to inferiorly. Chin raised and eyes blazing, she snapped. "Do not speak to me like that. I will not tolerate this attitude here in my bakery."

"Whoa, whoa, okay, I'm sorry." He put his hands up in defense, this disorganized, informal language nothing like the direct tone he spoke in before.

Rosella wasn't willing to forgive him so quickly, but she nodded once at the seat in front of her, an invitation, an order, to sit down. Grabbing the metal arms of the chair, he lowered himself in gently, and she gave him a once-over. Black hair combed immaculately, chiseled jawline with protruding cheekbones. His stately image was broken by the rumpled dark blue hoodie and casual khaki pants he sported. The hoodie looked well-worn, and the faded color indicated the many times it had visited the washing machine. She tried not to dislike him less because, like her, he clearly loved a comfortable hoodie with a center pocket to rest tired arms. One hand was in the pocket, and it vaguely looked like he was clutching something in his fist.

Miles cleared his throat, and she realized she had been staring.

"What were you saying before about this being a crime?" Genuinely confused, Rosella hoped they could at least have a polite conversation before she was thrown in jail and forced to eat gruel and cold bread for the rest of her life.

"The posters Miss Alexandra put up around your town included many trademarked words." Almost like he read her mind, he added, "Don't worry, no one's going to jail."

Rosella's mouth formed an O, and she tried not to laugh at the use of Lexie's mouthful of a first name.

Bored eyes paired with an unbothered tone, Miles informed Rosella of the consequences. "In a normal setting, this would warrant the offender a warning and a hefty fine, but I have deemed Miss Alexandra, frankly, ignorant of such laws, thereby freeing her from some of the penalties that accompany her reckless actions." While speaking, he had switched from a relaxed to a ramrod-straight position, and put his hands out, folded in front of him.

"Hey–" Rosella wasn't sure if she should be happy or annoyed on Lexie's behalf, so when Miles cocked an eyebrow at her interruption, she just shook her head and gestured from him to continue.

"Regardless, the whole concept of the Selection is trademarked by the royal family, and the consequences are even worse for attempting to imitate the tradition. I was ordered by the crown to stick around and observe the happenings of your… semi-selection, so I met with Miss Alexandra in your little library on Sunday. She told me about today's meeting, so, here I am." He leaned back in the wire-back chair and stuck both hands into the hoodie pocket again, finished with his piece.

Rosella nodded wordlessly, spinning in her head the possible consequences that Lexie and herself could potentially be subject to. As she contemplated the books she would bring with her if she had to flee the country, Rosella had an unrelated but relevant thought. "Are you joining then?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

My semi-selection, along with the other boys," she added to clarify.

Shrugging, Miles raised his hand to adjust a piece of hair that had fallen from the smooth wave and onto his forehead. "It doesn't matter to me either way. However I can monitor the most activities."

Annoyed, Rosella shrugged mostly to herself, repeating his unbothered action. "Fine then. Welcome."

He dipped his head in response, looking effortlessly comfortable and proper at the same time. He must not realize how frustrating he's being. He'll be one of the first ones out, and then I won't have to deal with him anymore.

"…Do you have any hobbies?"

Rosella never got her answer because someone knocked on the glass again. This time, she was glad for the interruption and stood up before Miles did. She offered her hand, and he shook it. Making shooing motions behind his back, she was temporarily blinded by the eager grin of her third contestant. Perhaps it's someone actually interested. Wouldn't that make a nice change?

"Your name is?" She questioned as they shook hands and took refuge from the sun under the table's canopy. He was the one that had heard her chuckle in the bakery, making it the second time Rosella saw him grin that day.

Showing dimples, he spoke through his unyielding smile. "I'm Caspian, pleased to meet you." His hair flew a bit in the sudden sharp breeze, but his jacket must have been heavy because it didn't even twitch. Rosella was glad she didn't take off her own coat, as it suddenly felt a lot cooler.

"Likewise." Rosella was going to say more, but he spoke first.

"I like the bakery's layout. It's very organized." His words were plain and his tone truthful, although it seemed to Rosella that this was rehearsed. She concluded to the effect of nerves.

Liking him a bit more because he appreciated the hours of work her parents had spent making the bakery as welcoming and joyful as possible, she didn't want to think he used it as just a conversation starter. "Thank you very much. Do you study interior design or something artsy like that?"

"Ah no," he shook his head, "I'm a bu–filmmaker."

Cheeks red, Caspian waved his hand briefly as if to cancel his previous statement. "Sorry, I'm still getting used to saying that. I picked up this line of work only recently, so I'm just adjusting to change."

That's when she noticed the giant professional camera resting on a thick, black strap around his neck. It didn't seem to be dragging his head down, though, like he had adjusted his posture to accompany the weight and had years of experience to get used to it.

She nodded to calm his nervousness. "No worries at all. Change is slow but progressive. Is that" – she gestured to the camera – "your special item?"

"Yessir, it is – my most prized possession. My father gave it to me when I was 12 years old, along with a collection of old films – his gifts and urging are what started me on the path of filmmaking."

"Back to the bakery," he said, crossing one leg over the other, "how long have you had it?"

Rosella had to do some mental math. Ten years since Mom died, plus two, makes twelve. "That would be twelve years total. Give or take a few months for renovations a few summers ago."

Caspian gave a low whistle. "Impressive."

"I can still remember the smell of the bakery's chocolate mixed with the springtime lavender flowers, the day my mother cut the ribbon." Rosella smiled wistfully and turned her nose to the window, hoping to get a whiff of a sweet scent. Nothing.

He didn't give her much time to dwell, jumping straight to his next question. "What are your specialties?" Rosella shot him a questioning look, not asking a clarification but requesting some explanation as to why he was so interested.

"My mother also likes baking," Caspian supplied, "and I know she'd love to sample some of your specialty desserts."

"I see." Rosella visualized the display counter in her mind, her mind picking out the cakes and pastries on the highest shelf. "We make a mean apple crumble, and our red velvet cupcakes and sourdough bread are top contenders too."

"Invite your mother over some time. She can take a few home or even attend a baking session to see how we make our secret recipes."

Caspian was already shaking his head before she finished speaking. "She isn't here in Columbia. And while she likes baking, she doesn't particularly enjoy getting her hands dirty."

Rosella nodded, though not quite understanding how someone didn't enjoy the process of making bread and cake. She herself found it fulfilling to enjoy her own creation with her family and friends, and she knew the twins liked pounding dough and decorating cookies.

"Can I ask where she is?"

At that moment, the fourth boy knocked on the door and Caspian stood up before answering. "She's in Belcourt for the rest of the summer, organizing a…uh… mall opening, I think." He grimaced and cocked his head left. "Yep, I'm about 84 percent sure."

Caspian smiled again, looking down at her, and gave a little, sweeping bow. "Until next time."

Rosella only had time to raise her hand in a wave before he turned, and the next boy walked up to her.

She rubbed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed with all the new information in her head. First, there was a boy who signed up for the wrong heart, then an official from the palace was investigating her–Lexie's, harmless selection, and finally, a nice-seeming boy who kind of shared at least one common interest with her.

Three down, four to go.

Yayay I have done zero academic-related things today (no school today and it's both a blessing and a curse).

NOTICE: With everything and I mean everything, due around the last weeks of November and December being a death month at school, I will be putting BWC on a mini hiatus until mid-December. I don't know if I'll keep writing during that time (I hope not though because story-writing time means taking away from valuable and needed essay-writing time), but I can assure you that my brain will still be pumping out ideas and words that I hope to put to paper after mid-December.

That aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and (finally) Rosella's introduction to the crazy boys about to upend her life. Thank you readers for all your comments and reviews: they make my day and I am so grateful. Big hearts!