5. Chapter Five - Several Months Later

The flight to Oslo from Reykjavik was much shorter than the one from Baltimore, and I stayed awake for most of the flight. My nerves were building, my stomach in knots, my body buzzing with nervous energy. When I deplaned, my hands shook and my heart raced. I gripped the straps of my backpack firmly, my knuckles turning white and my nails biting into my palms as I did so. I was seconds away from seeing Matty, the guy who had lived with me as an exchange student when we were in high school, the guy who was my best friend, and, as it happened, the guy who was my very fake fiancé. Once I saw him in that airport, we'd immediately be thrust into acting the part of a couple desperately in love.

Once I reached the security exit, I spotted a guy in a fleece zip-up and jeans standing next to a guy in a matching—but open—zip-up and darker jeans. The guy in the darker jeans had a camera on a tripod and he was fiddling with the settings or something, looking busy.

The first guy's eyes lit up when he caught sight of me and he waved one hand in the air to catch my attention. "You must be Jared Collins," he said, loud enough for me to hear over the clamor of the airport.

Surprised, I nodded and approached him. "I am, but how did you know? Do I stick out as an American or something?" I glanced around just to see exactly how much I stuck out.

He laughed a little and shook his head. "Not at all. I've seen your photo and your audition tapes enough times that you're seared into my mind. I'm Steve, by the way, and this is Brock, your cameraman for Norway."

"Nice to meet you." I stuffed my hands into my pockets. "Now what?"

"We're going to take you to baggage claim, where Matt is waiting. We've already given him instructions, but we want a big, romantic greeting. Rush over to him. Hug, kiss, whatever feels right in the moment. We'll stand back to give you a little space, but not far enough away that people will be walking through the shot. Once you've greeted one another, grab your bags and we'll head to the car. Pretend we're not there unless there's an emergency, okay? Questions?"

I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. "No questions." I certainly couldn't ask how I was supposed to kiss my straight best friend, after all. Instead, I followed the two through Oslo airport toward the baggage claim area. We had to pass through a huge duty-free shop to get to the baggage carousels, and as we wound our way through the crowd in the store, Steve turned to me. "This is it. You ready?"

I swallowed hard. "As I'll ever be."

He nodded at me, then turned to scan the baggage area. "There he is."

My stomach flipped like I was on a roller coaster as I followed Steve's line of sight. Matty was there, standing in profile as he watched baggage emerge onto the carousels. In my periphery, I noticed a light glowing red on Brock's camera, but I didn't care.

"Matty," I breathed, tears springing to my eyes. It was all I could do not to run to him.

"Do what feels right."Steve's words came back to me, and I took off toward my best friend.

"Matty." I called his name, louder than before, loud enough for him to hear me. He spun and his gaze swept the storefront. When we locked eyes, it was over. My restraint was gone. If I'd been carrying luggage, it would have been dropped and forgotten.

A huge smile burst onto his face and he took a tentative step forward. I hurried to him, wrapped him in my arms in a huge bear hug, and spun him around as he clung to me, burying his face in the crook of my neck.

"I'm wearing a mic," he murmured, barely above a whisper, and I nodded, understanding the warning for what it was. When I gently lowered him to the ground, we continued to hold each other tight, chests heaving with emotion. I could barely fight the tears that threatened to spill over. It was a long while before we parted and when we did, I glanced at the floor before looking back at Matty.

"This okay?" I murmured as quietly as possible. He nodded almost imperceptibly and his eyes fluttered closed. I took it as my cue and leaned in, pressing a slow, tender kiss to his mouth, our first kiss. We'd discussed kissing in front of the camera while we were waiting for our application to be accepted, but the reality of it felt much different. I held him, one palm pressed to the back of his neck, the other sliding into his hair as we kissed. He inhaled sharply as I parted his lips with my tongue and deepened the kiss, and his inhalation snapped me back to reality.

What am I doing? This is too much too soon.I pulled away slowly, trying to act reluctant rather than terrified and a little remorseful.

He looked dazed, but then after a moment, Matty blinked a few times, his cheeks pink. "Let's get your luggage, okay?"

I nodded. "That sounds like a great idea." We waited by the baggage carousel for a long while, until well after the last bags from my flight arrived. My large hard-sided suitcase was nowhere to be seen, and I looked to Matty for guidance.

"We should go to the lost bags counter. They will know." He slid his hand into mine so casually that it felt natural and led me over to the lost bags counter where we waited in an obscenely long line, only to be told my suitcase was, in fact, missing. In the melee of late flights and running to catch planes, it seemed my bags had been left behind in Iceland instead of making my connecting flight to Norway.

"Well, this puts a hiccup in things, huh?"

Matty smiled at me, the lopsided half-smile that always gave me butterflies, and he nodded. "I suppose it does. We'll need to take you clothes shopping to replace what you're missing, won't we?"

"At least some of it. All I have in my backpack is pajamas and I've been wearing this since yesterday," I said, gesturing at my Henley and jeans. I felt disgusting and was desperate for clean clothes and a shower.

He nodded in understanding. "Let's get you out of those and into something more comfortable, then." He smirked at the innuendo but said nothing further.

"That sounds like an excellent plan."

What I hadn't anticipated was the fact that Matty and I wouldn't have a single chance to talk in private until later that night, when the cameras were finally turned off. I was itching to get him alone and just talk.

I couldn't believe we'd done it—convinced an entire production team that we were, in fact, in love and ready to get married. Matty wanted to get his US citizenship to take advantage of an exciting work opportunity, and he'd been willing to pretend to be with me to do it. I'd agreed to the plan because we were best friends, he was my ride-or-die, my platonic soul mate, and I couldn't think of a thing on the earth that he could ask that I wouldn't do for him. We'd felt that way about each other since he was an exchange student living in my house while we were both in high school, and nothing had changed, nothing at all. Besides, it wouldn't hurt my burgeoning music career to be on a reality show, and Matty knew that, too.

Neither of us had really expected to get picked by Destination Love, the admittedly trashy reality TV show that aided international couples as they pursued visas, citizenship, and marriage. My kickball team, the guys that were my best friends stateside, had suggested it in the first place. I should have known they would, too. It felt like at least half of them had gotten into a fake relationship before they fell in love and got married for real. Of course they would have encouraged us to do it.

And there I was, riding in a car paid for by the production team, headed to pick out some backup clothes because mine were lost somewhere over the Atlantic, holding my best friend's hand for the cameras. I was grateful that my gig jobs at home—personal trainer and music teacher—were paused easily enough that I could even make it all work.

What a wild life I lived.