Page 47 of Groomsman to Groom

“Well, pop culture preferences aren’t everything.” Gabby’s voice carries a dismissive edge. “I connect with Hayes on much more meaningful levels. Physical chemistry, for one. And our shared creative vision. The way he held my hands during the photography challenge—you could literally feel the electricity between us.”

She tosses me a pointed look that makes it clear she’s aiming this comment directly at me. It seems clear from her earlier comment that they haven’t had sex yet. If she only knew about Luna, but I’ll never say a word about that. I maintain eye contact, refusing to show that her barb has landed.

Luna nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. “That’s true. I’m not a sci-fi person, but I do love how passionate Hayes gets with things he cares about. Especially August—the way his whole face lights up when he talks about his son is what attracted me to him in the first place.”

“August is amazing,” I say, feeling some of the tension dissipate. “Probably the most impressive nine-year-old I’ve ever met.”

“He really is,” Skye says, checking back into the conversation. She’s been busy people watching.

“He crushed me at chess.” Serena has a rueful smile. “Then explained electron valence shells to me while I was still processing my defeat.”

The mention of August steers the conversation to safer waters, though I notice Gabby contributing less, her attention seemingly focused on studying the remaining sangria in her glass like it holds the secrets to winning Hayes’s final key.

“I think what makes Hayes special,” Luna says after a moment, “is that he’s both the sexy photographer who travels the world taking amazing pictures, and the devoted dad who knows every line of his son’s favoriteStar Trek episodes. That kind of duality is rare.”

I find myself nodding in agreement, glad to hear Luna’s insight. From the conversation earlier, I’ve become concerned about her intentions.

As Skye signals for the server to get the check, I catch Luna exchanging a subtle glance with Gabby—a look that suggests she’s aligned with her. But that can’t be, can it? Luna’s on Gabby’s side? But I thought she was with Serena, Anabelle, and me. And she knows my secret—that I’ve been slipping away to work, although at this point, that’s over and I don’t think anyone would care.

Serena leans over while the others are distracted by the bill. “That was quite the defense ofStar Trek,” she whispers. “I don’t think I’ve seen you that fired up since Gabby accused Annabelle of stealing her bracelet.”

“I know, the one she’s wearing right now, I might add.” I groan quietly. “Too much?”

“Just right,” she assures me. “They need to know your heart’s in this—for real.”

The knowing look she gives me confirms what I already suspect—my impassioned defense of Hayes’s interests has exposed my true feelings. The realization is both terrifying andoddly liberating, especially because I’m not sure I want him after he’s slept with Luna and God knows who else. It’s just such a weird process that we’re supposed to accept as part of the deal.

Outside the restaurant, the Spanish night wraps around us like a warm blanket. The streets of Pamplona are still alive with locals enjoying their evening, the sound of conversation and laughter spilling from open doorways. We walk as a group toward our villa, the natural separation reflecting the new fault lines in our group—Serena and me, Luna and Gabby.

As we reach our accommodation—a sprawling Spanish villa with terracotta tiles and a central courtyard that looks like something out of a travel magazine—I can’t help feeling exposed. Vulnerable in a way that could be either my greatest strength or my undoing in this strange competition.

In my room, I go through the motions of my nighttime routine—removing makeup, changing into pajamas, checking my phone for any communications from the production team about tomorrow’s schedule. All the while, my mind replays the evening’s events, analyzing every reaction, every glance, every shift in the dynamics between us contestants.

I slide between cool sheets, the ceiling fan creating a gentle breeze that fails to quiet my racing thoughts. Somewhere in this villa, Hayes is still with the other group of women. Is he thinking about me? About August? About the connection we share? Is he having sex with yet another woman?

Rolling onto my side, I stare out at the sliver of Spanish night visible through the curtains. The moon hangs in the sky, the same moon that Hayes and August can see from wherever they are. There’s comfort in that connection, even as everything else feels increasingly uncertain.

Tomorrow brings new challenges, and it’s been so long since Hayes and I have had one-on-one time, I’m starting to feel disconnected from him. Is he becoming closer to someone else,someone he’s had sex with? The uncertainty gnaws at me with renewed intensity after tonight’s revelations: I still care deeply about him, and I need more time with him to see where my feelings are at—something I don’t get to have because we already had our one-on-one date.

16

Running of the Bullsh*t

BRIELLE

The pounding of my heart matches the thundering hooves I know will soon be chasing us through the narrow streets of Pamplona. I smooth down the white outfit that production insisted we all wear— ”traditional with a twist,” Skye called it—and tighten the red sash around my waist. This has to be the most wild group date in reality TV history: a group of four contestants, Serena, Gabby, Luna, and me, are participating in a running of the bulls, albeit a “controlled” version with safety measures that Darren assured us would prevent any “real danger.”

Right. Because nothing says “finding true love” like being chased by thousand-pound animals with pointy death horns.

“Everyone, two minutes until we’re live!” Darren’s voice crackles through the walkie-talkie of a nearby producer, who gives us a thumbs up like we’re about to have a spa day instead of a potential trampling.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and Serena sidles up beside me, her face pale beneath her usually perfect makeup. “Did you know that statistically, most bull running injuries occur from falls? People trip on the cobblestones, get pushed by the crowd, or panic.”

“That’s... not helping,” I mutter, though I appreciate her attempt to process fear through facts. Luna adjusts her red bandana, somehow managing to make panic look photogenic. “Just remember what the safety coordinator said. If you fall, stay down, curl into a ball, and protect your head. The bulls will jump over you.”

“Unless they don’t,” Gabby says from behind us, her blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail. “Then you’re just a human shish kebab.” She catches my eye and smirks.

I detect a slight tremor in her voice that suggests her bravado is as manufactured as this entire “authentic Spanish experience.” We’re all terrified, regardless of how we choose to display it.

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