Then

"So that was your first time on the water?" says Josh.

I bracket my face with my hands. "I am so sorry I got sick. Talk about embarrassing moments."

It's evening and the sun is planting its final languid kiss on the horizon. Josh and I are having dinner, which represents the last leg of our magical one-on-one date. The day has flown by, but has also felt like an eternal present, each moment complete with some ineffable fullness.

"You were a cute sicky." Josh grins at me from across the beautifully set table.

We picked at our salads, and now we're picking at our steaks. Our fancy dinner is a little gimmicky, with the crisp linens, layers of silverware, and multiple wineglasses. Neither of us is that hungry anyway—I'm much more looking forward to finishing our evening in the natural rock hot tub to our left, its tantalizing curls of steam rising into the cool evening. Plush white towels lie ready and waiting on two lounge chairs.

It's been a perfect day. Not perfect like nothing went wrong. Not only did I puke, but a bird pooped on my shoulder, and Josh cut his foot on a shell. But perfect in a deeper way. Like together we shaped this unique piece of history to add to the relationship we're building. Now we'll always have our day at the beach with the puke and the bird and the shell.

"Tell me more about how cute I was while I vomited," I say with the slightest sardonic tone.

"All moany, like Josh, Josh—"

I lean across to swat his arm. "No way! I was very self-sufficient. I got it all in the wineglass, remember? Or..." I grin. "Most of it."

"I had no idea you had such a delicate stomach," he teases.

"Neither did I," I groan. "No more boats. That's all I ask."

He raises his eyebrow and his wineglass. "A small ask."

"I'll do anything else." I clasp my hands dramatically. "Rappelling into a creepy cave, eating insects—"

He laughs. "But the beach was fun."

The date started with a boat trip up the coast to a private beach, where we spent the late morning and afternoon lounging in the sun and picnicking, with plenty of chilled wine. Spreading suntan lotion all over Josh's body was a revelation. The springy firmness of his muscles, the shape of his bones. The feelings in my own body as I massaged the coconut-scented lotion into every inch of his exposed flesh and he teased a little more to the left and ooh, rub harder.

"You have cute ears," I say.

"Cute ears?"

"Yes! They're tanned, and attached, and cute." I got a good look when I was pinching them between my thumb and index finger to get the suntan lotion worked in.

"I'm not sure how to feel about your obsession with my ears." Josh twirls a pretend mustache. "Are there any other parts of me you thought were...cute?"

I laugh full-out. "You're a big goof, did you know that?"

I've only discovered this today, and I love that I know it now. Before today I was attracted mostly to Josh's sexiness, which is significant, drawn mostly by intense feelings I couldn't explain. Today, that's changed. Today, I'm attracted to his humor. The way he doesn't fill all the airspace with talk. His calm in the face of vomit. The way he rolls with the punches. And his ears really are cute. Each of these details are a foothold as I climb higher, toward surer ground.

He smiles, pleased, and takes a bite of steak.

He looks so good tonight, dressed in a white shirt, open at the neck, that makes his tan glow. I'm in white, too—a sleeveless cocktail dress, which fits me like a glove and brings out the sun-kissed freckles on my shoulders. The halter tie of the turquoise bikini I'm wearing underneath peeks out the top of the dress, providing Josh with what I hope is a fun tease of what's to come.

"So, dinner. This is our time for serious talk, right?" I say. It's been pretty light and jokey all day, and I want to make sure we connect on a deeper level, too, since I have no idea when I'll get such a luxury of uninterrupted time with him next. Also, if Emma or another of the girls brings up compatibility, I want to have an answer.

"Let's do it," Josh says. "Where should we start?"

"Family. Tell me about your parents. Are you close? Siblings. Do you have any?"

"Only child," he says, chewing and swallowing before dabbing his mouth with a cloth napkin. "I was born in Southern Indiana. Mom still lives there. Little town called Eauverte."

"Come again?"

"It's French for green water. We pronounce it O-vert. Accent on the O."

"O-vert," I practice.

"Perfect. Anyway, I live in Indianapolis, which is about two hours north of Eauverte. I try to go down and have dinner with Mom once or twice a month. She's lonely. I keep trying to convince her to move to Indy, but..."

"And your dad?" I say softly.

"They divorced when I was eight. He moved to Chicago. We don't talk. Mom kind of spies on him through social media. I guess he has a girlfriend now? She's a model. And younger than me. So that's not weird at all."

"Have you met her? Or...would you want to?"

"Hell no. I don't want anything to do with that asshole."

There's a small silence. I sip at my wine, giving a second for his strong emotion to blow away.

Josh puts down his utensils. "Sorry. That was uncalled-for. All you did was ask a question." A tiny grin crinkles his mouth. "I guess I have daddy issues, huh?"

"Don't worry about it. Honestly, how could you not?" Actually, I love how confidently he just owned his issues. "When's the last time you talked to him?"

"He called on my tenth birthday. Oh, and he sent a card when I graduated from high school. No message, no gift. Just his initials inside the card."

"He didn't sign it Dad?"

"Nope." He pops his lips on the p.

"Wow." I reach across the table and cover Josh's hand with mine. "I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve that."

He smiles fast, too fast, like he's used to putting a good face on it. "Yeah, everyone has their shit, you know? But what can you do? That's life. And now, here I am with you, in this beautiful place, finishing a delicious dinner after a perfect day. I can't complain."

"That's fair," I laugh. "I love how positive you are. I mean—I admire that kind of strength."

It's the same strength I recognized in myself after the attack. Bouncing back after tragedy. Finding the silver lining. I promised him we'd have similarities, and I really hope he's seeing this one as clearly as I am. See, Emma? Our connection isn't shallow. We just needed time to discover its depth.

Josh shrugs my compliment off, but I can tell he's pleased. "Tell me about your family," he says, then catches himself. "Oh, right." There's a nervous patter in my heart as I wait for him to keep going. Of course now he's landing on a major difference.

He laughs awkwardly. "I have this list of questions in my mind, you know? To ask all the girls. But... I guess you're different, huh?"

"What questions? Out of curiosity?"

"You know. About past relationships. Like, dating history. You don't have any. Family—you don't have any. Childhood memories, college experience, career—"

"No baggage," I say lightly, trying for a positive spin.

He nods slowly. "Yeah. No baggage. No fights about which parents to spend the holidays with."

"No exes for you to worry about."

"That's a plus," he jokes, pointing a fork at me. "I can actually be pretty jealous."

I smile. "I think that's cute."

"I think you're cute." He grins. "What do you say we move this party to the hot tub?"

Disaster averted. We both worked to see the positive and overcame the hiccup. Another reason Josh is the right person for me, and me for him.

"I'd say yes, please."

I peel my dress off poolside. Josh has his swim trunks on under his fancy clothes, and soon we're casting our finery on a lounge chair, along with the mic packs that can't get wet. Our clothes look good mingled together like that. Our shoes, too, the soft brown leather of his against the bright aqua of my strappy heels, tumbled together like they've just had the time of their lives. We hold hands as we approach the frothing water. I dip a toe in.

"That feels so good."

We sink into the pool. The rush of heat is heavenly. I close my eyes and dip my head back to wet my hair. Then I go under all the way. When I come back up, Josh is studying me, like he's wondering if he should make a move or not. I think he wants to.

"Is it weird to you that I'm inexperienced? With relationships?" I say, trying to interpret his hesitation.

"I don't know," he says, floating closer and knocking his knees against mine before pushing back. "I kind of like it. Being your first."

"I like it, too," I say in a low voice, not that that will stop the mics from picking it up, but still. "I feel like I can trust you with all of my firsts."

The atmosphere changes. He glides closer. Only his shoulders are above the waterline, solid, glistening. Our bodies underneath are blue, smooth, ghostly. When he's right in front of me, I place one of my hands on each of his shoulders, wrapping my fingers around the solid muscle. I'm aware of every breath, every droplet of water, every millimeter separating our bodies. I dip my chin and look up at him shyly, feeling the kiss of my wet lashes against my cheeks as I blink slowly.

"Julia, what are you doing to me?" he breathes, and then, he's kissing me.

This time, I'm more prepared for the sensations that follow. The heat in my stomach. The feeling of melting into Josh, the water, the moment.

There's pressure on the small of my back, spanning the line of my bikini bottom. His hand, pressing me closer, until we're locked hip to hip. I can feel every hard contour of his fitting into every soft hollow of mine. My breath comes short. He pulls away and looks into my eyes. His look is possessive, and I love it.

"You got a sunburn," he says, and tenderly lifts the halter strap of my bikini top.

"Oh." I crane to see. The skin is a little pink, with a white line running through. "I guess someone did a bad job putting suntan lotion on me."

"Am I bad, Julia?" he says with a glint in his eyes.

"No," I say. "You're too good to be true."

Still holding the strap off my skin, he lowers his head and kisses the white line, following its length from the corner of my bikini where it tucks under my arm, up across my chest, and finally around the side of my neck. My head falls back. Holy hell.

"Is this okay?" he asks, pulling back again. I don't have to see myself in a mirror to know I'm flushed, like all the blood is rushing across my skin to meet these new sensations.

"Yeah," I gasp. Then, my body weak and soft and helpless in his arms, I whisper the only word I can manage. "More."

His mouth sinks into mine and my legs instinctually float up in the water to surround his waist. My fingers find the silky-wet hair at the base of his neck. He braces his forearm against my back and I tighten my legs in response. Now my face is above his, and I'm the one to press down, deepening our kiss, drawing a groan from Josh.

My entire body feels swollen with desire. If there weren't cameras watching, I'd peel off my bikini. I want to know what it feels like for all of me to touch him. For us to be completely melded, no barriers. Then, like a wet slap, I remember them.

The other girls.

"What's wrong?" he says.

"I—Nothing." I bite my lip. I didn't plan this, and it's probably not strategic, but I can't hold it in. "Today was...everything. I think I might be starting to fall for you, and..." I trace his jawline with a single finger. "I'm scared, Josh. I've known you for...less than two weeks. These feelings—" I shake my head.

"Don't be scared, Miss Julia." He tucks my hair behind my ear, his touch achingly tender.

I cup my wet hands on either side of his face. My voice is a whisper. "You could break my heart."

He doesn't answer, but tips his head so our foreheads meet, resting against each other as our bodies slowly calm, as our breathing evens out, as our heads clear.

All day, it's been so easy to pretend it's just Josh and me, falling in love. Everything was designed for us to have the perfect day, wholly focused on each other.

But the reality is, there are fifteen other girls still in this competition.

My words hang in the air between us. And I can hear Josh's unspoken response, written in his silence.

Yes, I could.