Chapter 18

There's a part of Lauren's brain that she can never really silence—the strategic, goal-oriented part that got her this far on Hopelessly Devoted in the first place. And right now, as she's making shitty coffee in a kitschy villa in Costa Rica, that part of her brain is screaming and howling like she's back at freshman year rush week or something.

Even though McKenzie and Kaydie wouldn't let up about the optics of going on the first or last hometown date, Lauren knows that the producers of this show are strategic too; she's listened to every teary tell-all on every reality podcast out there, including When One Door Closes. From a viewership standpoint, it really doesn't matter if she has the last hometown date or the first overnight date or anything at all, because everything will get edited around in post-production anyway. Lauren's will probably go at the beginning, and the producers will end on McKenzie's, assuming she gives the teariest confession and has the steamiest on-screen kiss with Josh.

The disadvantage to going last, though, is that Josh will be all distracted and giddy from his closed-door nights with McKenzie and Krystin. Her brain snags on the image of Josh and Krystin sleeping side by side last night—even though she imagines them fully clothed, a safe two feet apart, a sharp chill runs down Lauren's back. Krystin's still not back, and Lauren's thoughts are racing. She tightens her fluffy bathrobe, grabs her mug, and walks out to the porch.

She's not going to sleep with Josh. She doesn't have to sleep with Josh. In fact, several leads have come forward and shared that they didn't have sex with anyone on overnights, lest they hurt their eventual winner's feelings. Josh doesn't seem like the wait-until-marriage type, but he definitely doesn't seem like Hunter from season ten, who infamously fucked all three finalists—and led them all to believe they were the only one.

Lauren doesn't even notice that a car's pulled up to the cottage until the door slams and Krystin steps out. She can't help but falter, just a little bit, at the sight of Krystin, flushed and cozy in her sweatpants and form-fitting tank top. It's too familiar. Lauren's mind unhelpfully, pathetically reminds her that up until now, she was the only person on Hopelessly Devoted who got to see Krystin so relaxed and unguarded up close.

It's fine.

When Krystin starts walking up to the porch, though, Lauren can tell that something's off. She does not look relaxed; she does, in fact, look very guarded. There are bags under her eyes, probably from a night spent sharing secrets with Josh. "Hey," Lauren says. "Late night?"

"It was …" Krystin turns to look back at Holland and the small team of camera people, ten or so feet away but probably within earshot. "We ended up doing a ropes course. That was the date."

"Mm." Lauren sips her coffee. "So you did reach some new heights, after all." And then, worried the quip might've sounded bitchy, she quickly adds, "I'm glad you had a fun time. Really."

But Krystin doesn't look like she had fun. She looks exhausted. "This is for you," she mutters, practically shoving a date card in Lauren's face.

Lauren bites into her lip. She's overcome with the now-familiar urge to ask Krystin if she's okay, to comfort her, give her a hug or something. But then Holland runs up to the women, and fuck. They're swarmed.

"Krystin. Krystin!" Holland taps her on the shoulder. "We need you to give that to her again, in front of McKenzie."

God.Lauren knows she doesn't exactly have the moral high ground here, but making Krystin deliver a date card on her way home from a Honeymoon? And making McKenzie, who's been locked in her room for a day straight, bear witness to the entire thing? Lauren's not exactly sure when this started, but evidently, no one here is having fun anymore.

"Come inside," Holland says gruffly. "We need a redo."

Lauren frowns at the card.

Lauren, it reads. I can't wait to get even closer. Love, Josh.

The words sound eerily like a threat.

Holland snatches it back.

The date is tantric yoga on the beach. Of course it is.

"I know it took me a minute to get the hang of dancing," Josh says, reaching for Lauren's hand. "But I have a feeling this will be, um, a really special experience. Even if it's completely weird, we're in it together, right?"

"Well, I've never done this before," Lauren says. "So just don't expect me to lead you through this one."

It's meant to be a cute joke, but the words come out cold. Josh doesn't seem to notice, though. Or if he does, he doesn't care. "Like I said. We're in it together."

Lauren just smiles weakly. He kisses her, softly but abruptly. Are his lips really dry, or her own?

"So you and I are lucky enough to learn the basics from Mary over here," Josh says. "She's an amazing yogi, and she's going to make sure we don't embarrass ourselves too much. At least, I hope she does!"

The yogi doesn't look all that different from the woman who taught Lauren how to tango, but she's wearing noticeably more tie-dye, and her hair is starting to gray. "Tantra might sound scary, but it really isn't," Mary says. "It's just about getting in touch with your own energy, desires, and body. Let's start with a little breathwork. How's that sound?"

Lauren nods. It's windier on this beach than she'd expected—she ties her hair back into a tight ponytail, and tries not to think about the excruciating discomfort of standing across from Josh, just breathing and thinking about her bodily desires. It's just like meditation, she tells herself. Followed by yoga. That's it.

She's been doing yoga for about a decade. This shouldn't feel more daunting than mud wrestling or even dancing the tango. It's fine, it's fine, it's fine.

"The key here is to breathe in through your diaphragm," Mary says. "Try to feel your breaths in your belly and lower back. And take a step closer! Look into each other's eyes, if you can. It will help ground you."

Josh gives her a small, comforting smile, and as Mary counts to three, they inhale together. It reminds Lauren of the first night she woke up with Krystin in Patagonia, when she was terrified of running into one of the other women and Lauren implored her to just try to breathe. When Josh tries to hold her hand again, it reminds Lauren of the first time she and Krystin fell asleep in the same bed, their fingers laced together. When Mary asks them to dig deep and think about what they really, really want, Lauren involuntarily closes her eyes and thinks of gentle, full lips brushing her hip bones. She thinks of the split second between "Did you miss me?" and Krystin's quiet, certain "yes."

She thinks of the pool.

Josh clears his throat, and Lauren's eyes snap open. He's flushed red, and he's staring at her mouth. Lauren wouldn't say she believes in any of this tantric stuff, but yeah—clearly, both of them were able to tap into what they want. She feels borderline sick.

It doesn't get any better when they move to the actual poses. Mary positions them across from each other on a woven blanket. "Now, put your hands on Josh's hips. Josh, wrap yours around her waist. And let's try that breathing again, shall we?"

Josh is in a tee and shorts, but Lauren's in her favorite Outdoor Voices set. She never viewed it as an obscene, sexy outfit before, but with Josh's hands resting on her bare torso, she's starting to really wish she'd worn a tank instead of a sports bra.

The ironic thing is, Lauren's never felt more out of touch with her own body. At some point, Josh sheds his shirt, and Lauren can already hear Penny's questions—He looked good, right? Did that make you excited for tonight? Give me something.

But she feels nothing as she and Josh move from pose to pose, closer and closer. She feels nothing as he kisses her goodbye and gives her a dazed, gooey look as she goes back to the villa alone, as she gets in her silky little House of CB dress and paints her lips red. She feels nothing as the same black car that shuttled Krystin back to the cottage shuttles her to the nighttime portion of her date: A table for two is set up on the beach, in the same spot where she and Josh crawled all over each other hours ago. Josh is standing in front of the water, a small bouquet of roses in his arm. He looks like a stock image on the cover of one of Lauren's mom's romance novels. The perfect leading man.

Lauren kicks off her heels before she hits the sand, and then she makes her way to Josh. "Hey."

"Hi, gorgeous." He pulls her into a tight hug, and the flowers brush Lauren's cheek. "You look incredible. Wow."

"Thank you." He looks like he's about to say something else, or maybe kiss her, but Lauren sits down in her seat before he can even pull out her chair.

"So," Josh starts. He sounds nervous. "Our date today was … really an experience."

Finally, Lauren feels something. That feeling is dread.

"I guess tantric yoga is a natural next step after tango," Lauren says.

Unless your tango partner is Krystin, her brain supplies. Then the natural next step is sex.

Her heart starts pounding, the way her head does after she's had too many glasses of wine. She reaches for the glass of champagne on the table, and takes a strong gulp.

"We're not toasting?" Josh jokes, but there's an undercurrent of worry in his voice.

"Sorry." Lauren puts down her glass. "I had something in my throat, and there's—there's no water."

"Oh, no. Really?" Josh frowns at the table, then moves to stand up. "Let me grab someone."

"No, it's fine." Lauren reaches out and grabs his arm. "Really."

He sits back down, but looks uncertain. Lauren feels a ripple of guilt, a surprisingly strong one, and remembers Damian's words: You're going to hurt him.

"Well, I'll make a toast." Josh lifts his flute. "To an amazing night with a one-of-a-kind woman."

"To us," Lauren says, half-heartedly. She feels like she's outside of her own body. You're going to hurt yourself.

She thinks of Krystin, home alone at the villa in her Murdoch's tee and boxer shorts. You're going to hurt her.

"We've really had quite the journey, haven't we?" Josh asks.

"Yeah. I guess." She thinks, not for the first time, that they've spent more time recapping their own relationship than actually having one. "We've been sent on a lot of sexy dates."

"We have." A smile creeps across Josh's face. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Me neither," Lauren says.

Silence.

"Can I be real with you for a second?" Josh asks. He doesn't wait for her response. "You make me really nervous sometimes. Being with you feels, like … unreal. Like I'm the dweeby middle school kid with a crush on the popular girl."

"That doesn't sound like a very good feeling, to be honest," Lauren says, before she can stop herself.

"It feels exciting, actually." Josh stares at her with intensity. "When the hot, popular girl actually gives the dweeby nerd a chance."

It's not like Lauren's really given him a chance to see her as anything beyond fun, flirty, and occasionally a little teary and helpless. And it's not like it's that serious. Still, hearing her entire identity distilled down to "hot, popular girl" by a man who allegedly wants to propose to someone next week makes her feel like someone's hollowed her out with a spoon.

"Josh," Lauren says, "I think—"

"I—can I just say something first?" he interrupts. "I know this hasn't been the easiest journey for you. You've had to go outside your comfort zone more times in the past month than you probably have your entire life. You almost got seriously injured twice—three times, actually, if we count the time I kept stepping on your toes at the milonga. And the fact that you stuck around because you see a future with me? It's …" He shakes his head. "Mind-blowing. It matters. That's what I'm trying to say."

Lauren doesn't know what to say. She only got "injured" during the wrestling date because she was half afraid that if they kept going, she might kiss Krystin into the muddy ground. She was only spared an injury on the horse because Krystin saved her life. And her feet didn't hurt at all after hours of clumsy tangoing, because she was too busy having the best sex of her life to even notice.

She's not still here—in Costa Rica, on the show, in the final three—for Josh. For the right reasons. But maybe she's not still here for followers and fame, either.

She's here because she's falling in love with another contestant.

"I'm falling for you, Lauren," Josh says, clearly interpreting Lauren's silence as a sign to continue. "And trust me. It's a really, really good feeling."

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Takes a baby sip of champagne, just to buy time. And she can't fake it anymore—she just can't. "Thank you for sharing that with me," she says, and then watches Josh's entire face fall.

When a casting director first called Lauren and told her that you're going to be a Devotee on Season 22 of Hopelessly Devoted! and to pack enough cocktail gowns to last you two months! and to prepare for the journey of your lifetime!, she shrieked. She texted Damian. And then she took a train into the city and went shopping.

In the end, she ordered most of her dresses from Revolve, but she did splurge on one from Reformation: an elegant, slinky black number with long sleeves and an even longer slit up the left thigh. It cost more than three times as much as the dresses she wore to the past three string-cutting ceremonies, and it's been shuttled from the chateau to Buenos Aires to Patagonia and back. Every week, she's considered wearing it, and every week, she's decided against it.

Because she bought this dress for a specific purpose: It's the one she'll be wearing when Josh Rosen sends her home. She should have worn it a few weeks ago, really, but then she got carried away with Krystin and just … didn't leave.

In any case, tonight's the night. There's no reason Josh won't send her home. After she explicitly refused to reciprocate his "falling for you" statement, dinner was tense and awkward, with Josh trying to fill the silences and play off the rejection and Lauren wondering if she could believably fake a stomach bug and leave early. By the time a production assistant passed him a laminated card with a hotel key, it was obvious they would not be spending the night together. Still, he didn't eliminate her on the spot—they shared an awkward, close-mouthed kiss, and Lauren went back to the villa alone. She hasn't seen Krystin at all today; she hasn't seen McKenzie, either, for that matter.

Now she stares at her reflection in the full-length mirror, from her dark red lips to her exposed thigh to her stilettos. She looks even more devastatingly hot than she did in that Manhattan dressing room.

She takes a deep, focused breath and steps into the hallway, but before she can even descend the stairs, Holland steps out of one of the side rooms. "Lauren. Let's chat," she says.

The producers, much like zits and mosquitoes, have a habit of appearing out of thin air, often at inopportune times. Something about this exchange, though, feels particularly confrontational, like Holland's just been waiting to intercept Lauren. There's nothing to do but walk into the room and stare at the camera, the way she's now done dozens of times.

"How do you feel about your chances tonight?"

She knew this one was coming. And she knows exactly how she wants to play it. "I care about Josh so much," Lauren says. "I think … I think anyone can see that. But our tantric yoga date was an intense experience for me, and that put us both on edge at dinner. I just hope he knows that, whatever happens, I'm glad we've gone on this journey together."

Holland nods. "It sounds like you think you're going home tonight. Or …"

"Or?" Lauren echoes.

"You're sending yourself home."

Lauren's silent. She's positive Josh is cutting her string tonight—she's always wanted him to cut her string, and tonight's circumstances couldn't be more perfect. As an eliminated contestant, Lauren won't come across as some kind of villainous heartbreaker. Josh, on the other hand, will get to maintain a bit of dignity: His ego's probably bruised from last night's rejection, but at least he'll get to reject her right back. It will be a win for both of them, really.

But maybe she should self-eliminate. Maybe she's not on the chopping block, after all. The calculating, always-one-step-ahead part of her brain wonders if Krystin's date with Josh was a disaster too. She did look miserable the next morning: Maybe they fell asleep the second they got back to his hotel room. Maybe she told him she didn't know if she liked men at all. Maybe …

Maybe this isn't coming from the smart, strategic part of Lauren's mind after all. Maybe it's coming from somewhere smaller, quieter, more hopeful.

"I don't know," she finally says.

The three words just hang there, thick like fog.

Holland leans forward. "It makes sense," she says. "After all, you were the only woman who wasn't intimate with him, right?"

Lauren stills. "What?"

"As a rule, I really shouldn't be speculating with a Devotee," Holland says, in the kind of slick, conspiratorial way that reminds Lauren she's probably broken this "rule" and speculated with Devotees many, many, many times. "But after talking to Josh, it's just … evident. You're the only one who wasn't intimate with him. It makes sense that you'd want to leave."

"I don't believe that," Lauren says. "Just because two people spend the night together, doesn't mean they were intimate." Even as she says it, she knows how na?ve she probably sounds.

Holland gives her a pitying look. "I can take you to Josh before the ceremony, if you want. It sounds like you two might have some unfinished business to discuss."

Josh isn't the person Lauren needs to see right now. She wants to believe that Holland's just fucking with her head, that Krystin wouldn't turn around and sleep with Josh just three days after sleeping with her, after telling her things she'd never told anyone else, after telling her she doesn't even like kissing guys. Lauren wants to believe it so badly, in fact, that she's already concocting all kinds of reasons it logically couldn't have happened.

But then she remembers how awkward Krystin was after Hometowns, how she hid in the bathroom and barely kissed Lauren before taking off for her overnight date. How Josh was always the one she wanted, and even her lifelong best friend didn't fit in with her perfect, imagined life the way he did. How every single Devotee, even Krystin, has just been a contestant on a game show. They're literally players in a game.

A game that Lauren's been winning for weeks, actually. She just … briefly forgot why she was playing it in the first place.

"Lauren," Holland says. "Are you okay?"

"I do want to see Josh," she blurts out. "I need to, actually. Where is he?"

Holland stands up. "Follow me," she says.

They walk down the stairs and into the first-floor lounge. A cameraman is filming some B-roll, probably, of Josh seated on a velvet sofa, looking uncharacteristically stoic and distraught.

Holland coughs from the entrance. "I have someone for you."

"Lauren?" Josh stands up. He looks at Lauren, then Holland. "What's going on?"

"We have to talk," Lauren says. She walks over and guides him to the wall, as far from the camera as possible. "Please."

"Don't we have the ceremony soon?" he asks.

"Not yet." Lauren reaches for his hand and weaves their fingers together. "I just feel like our overnight didn't go the way it should have, and I just couldn't, like, stand there and watch you cut my string without talking to you about it first."

"Okay." Josh tilts his body, somewhat shielding her from the camera, which strikes Lauren as sweet. He's a good guy, she thinks, which makes her feel even more gross about what she's about to do. But then she thinks about Josh sleeping with Krystin, trading secrets, giggling with her afterward, and she doesn't need to cry, she doesn't need to scream, she just needs some kind of control. "What do you want to talk about?"

"What usually happens on overnight dates," Lauren says. "And what … didn't happen on ours."

Recognition passes Josh's face, and then he looks almost worried—like if he eliminates Lauren now, a bunch of Devoted Fans on Reddit will accuse him of just cutting the one girl who didn't put out.

"The thing is … there's a reason we didn't take that step," Lauren says carefully, even though her mind is racing. "Even though I wanted to. Even though physical chemistry is important to me—you know it is." She takes a shaky breath. "But, Josh, think of the dates we've had. The dancing. The yoga. I know you're attracted to me, and that's scary, you know? Because sometimes, when I spend … intimate time with someone, I feel like the person stops liking me for, like, who I really am. It's suddenly all about my body, or how hot I am, and I just—"

Josh nods. He's listening to her, and fuck, he's actually buying this.

"I wanted you to be different." She thinks of Krystin's soft, private smiles, their late night conversations, and it's alarming how quickly her eyes start to water. Damian was wrong. She's an amazing actress. "I just wanted you to be different," Lauren repeats, her voice cracking.

"I—okay," he says. It's almost like it's too much for him to compute: His brows are furrowed, and his eyes aren't meeting hers. "But it's not just about sex, Lauren. We could've spent the night together and not been … intimate like that. If we're really talking about this right now, it sometimes feels like you're keeping a part of yourself from me. I've felt that for a while now."

"No." Lauren shakes her head. "I mean, you're right, but knowing that I could lose this puts everything into perspective. I don't want to hide myself anymore. I want …"

You want to win, she reminds herself, even though she already did. In the past two months, Lauren earned hundreds of thousands of followers, a shiny blue checkmark of verification, and a lifetime supply of ShineGirl essentials.

She never wanted Josh: She wanted him to fall for someone else, send her home, and never think of her again, actually. And now, weeks later, she's here, just one string-cutting ceremony away from a tearful, guilt-free elimination.

But looking at Josh means picturing his hairy, burly body on top of Krystin's, her hands in his hair and her full-throated laugh reverberating throughout the hotel room. And the thought makes Lauren feel like she didn't win at all—like she lost something, actually, something that might've actually been important. And the worst part of all? For once in her fucking life, she was trying to do the honest thing. The thing that wouldn't hurt Krystin, or Josh. She was being real, or whatever. Fuck that.

After all, you're the only woman who wasn't intimate with him, right?

"Lauren, I'm sorry." Josh sighs. "Something just feels off. I've been falling for you, I really have, but I don't know what to do. We're flying out to my parents' next week, and—"

"You can't close this door yet, Josh," Lauren interrupts. "You know our story isn't over."

The door cliché, obviously, softens him. His eyes flicker down to her cherry-painted lips, and before either of them can say anything else, he leans forward and kisses her.

It isn't like any of their other kisses. It's rough, forceful, desperate. Lauren doesn't think about Krystin as she yanks his body flush against hers and runs her fingernails down his back. She doesn't think about Krystin as she squeezes his ass, the back of his thigh. He groans and pulls at her with the kind of aggressive enthusiasm that makes her feel like she knows exactly what he's like in bed, but she's not thinking about Josh fucking Krystin as she grinds against his blatant erection, pulls him closer, closer, so close it's hard to breathe, and bites his lip.

"Lauren, I like you. You don't have to do this," he murmurs as she kisses down his neck, but he notably doesn't move away; in fact, he slides a hand under her dress, and even though it's all still very over-the-underwear, she lets out a small whimper.

It's fake, of course. Like everything else that's happened over the past two months.

You're the only woman who wasn't intimate with him, right?

"Give me another chance," Lauren whispers as their kisses turn more languid than frantic. At this point, she's even more unsure about what she wants or why she's doing any of this. She doesn't know what there is left to win. Is she trying to get Krystin sent home, humiliated and heartbroken? Is she trying to prove that, all along, they've been playing the exact same game, that Lauren was actually a step ahead? Is she just trying to forget the way Krystin kissed her first, the way Krystin drunkenly serenaded her at a shitty bar, the way Krystin looked when she—

What Lauren really wants is for this uncensored footage to air on national TV. She wants it to hurt Krystin, damn it. But that won't happen, because Krystin doesn't care.

"You don't need another chance. I like you," Josh repeats, and it's bullshit, it's bullshit, it's bullshit, because he doesn't even know her. Nobody does.

Holland coughs again from the doorway. "Ceremony in five," she says. "Please make yourselves decent."

"I'm really glad you opened up to me," Josh says, as if she actually had; as if she actually did anything, really, besides dry-hump him for five minutes. But he runs a hand through his hair and shoots her a boyish grin, like those five minutes really did change everything for him. "I can't stop smiling."

There's not enough air in this room, this whole damn building. Lauren feels like she might pass out. "I'll see you out there," she manages.

On her way to the ceremony room, Lauren catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She manages to smooth her hair, and she uses a tissue to wipe off her lipstick altogether, but her mascara's slightly streaked. It doesn't matter.

She's the last woman there—McKenzie looks solemn but hopeful, and Krystin just looks completely blank-faced. She takes her place between the two of them, and although she feels Krystin's eyes on her body, she refuses to look at her.

Josh makes his entrance, slow and stoic. "McKenzie. Krystin. Lauren," he says, slightly out of breath. "Hey."

No one responds.

"This is the hardest string-cutting ceremony yet." He looks at the scissors like they're an explosive. "I know I say that every week, but this week was … wow. I have three incredible women in front of me, and knowing that I have to break someone's heart tonight, it's just—it hurts me too."

Lauren hears McKenzie swallow.

"Krystin, could you come up here?" he asks, and she does. "I'd like … I'd really like you to stay another week. Meet my family."

"I'd like that too," she says. Lauren can't identify how Krystin feels, and she doesn't want to. She doesn't even want to look at her.

There's a pause. Lauren doesn't know if their last-ditch makeout session successfully overrode the awkwardness of last night, but at this point, it doesn't matter. If she stays, she wins. If she stays, she proves that she's untouchable, that she doesn't care.

If she stays, she gets another week with Krystin, which feels like a prize until she remembers it's more like a punishment.

"McKenzie," Josh finally says, and Lauren's surprised to realize she's relieved.

She's done. She's out. It's all over.

But then, Josh wipes a literal tear from his eye.

"McKenzie," he says again. "I'm going to have to cut your string."