13. Victory Royale

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"Oh, God," I cleared my throat loudly and stepped as far away from Patrick as I could, which was hard in the small  space of the bathroom. 

"Uh, Andrew. Hey."

The red haired boy looked curiously at me, probably wondering what was going on. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was hurt flashing darkly through his eyes at first, but he seemed to recover quickly and managed to just look confused by the time Patrick had composed himself enough to address him.

"Hey, man," he said, drawing himself up to his full height and conspicuously stepping between me and Andrew. That pissed me off. It's not like I needed to be protected or something. After all, he was the only one hurting me lately.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Kind o--"

"Not at all!!!" I blurted quickly, stepping around both Patrick and Andrew and into the hallway, where at least I had a reliable escape route. 

"Pat and I were just--"

"Lyra had a little accident over in the weight room and I brought her here to help her out. I'd stay off that foot as much as you can, if I were you."

I huffed indignantly. 

"Actually, Lyra did no such thing. Lyra was minding her own business, going for a little midday workout when suddenly Mr. Clumsy Clogs over here decided to drop a 30 ('45!' Patrick protested) pound weight on my damn foot." 

That, at least, made Andrew seem to relax. He even chuckled a bit at the mention of "Mr. Clumsy Clogs." Nevertheless, he still seemed hurt and a little angry, which made a whole new wave of guilt wash over me all over again.

"Well, then, man," he said through a smile, "you better make sure you can hold your weights next time." 

I shot Patrick a glare that said I will murder you in your sleep if you say anything else, and luckily, he seemed to get the point, closing his mouth as fast as he had opened it. I was still a little surprised at Andrew. He was just so nice. I wouldn't have pegged him as one to buy into the alpha male antics. 

The issue solved, we all stood looking at each other awkwardly, each waiting for the other to make a move or say something to break the tension, until finally, Andrew turned back towards the bathroom.

"So can I go pee now or are you guys gonna stand here all day?"

As the week progressed, I grew more and more nervous- for two reasons

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As the week progressed, I grew more and more nervous- for two reasons. The first, because, as the debut of the next episode drew nearer, so did the very real consequence of the show become ever more ominous: within a couple days, the worldwide audience would see each of our first dates and decide whose they liked and whose they didn't. Two people would be sent home. 

I might not have enjoyed every single moment of my experience on the show so far, but I did know that I didn't want to go home quite yet. I had been mentally going over every moment of my date with Andrew in my head, wondering if I had been cute enough, or desirable enough, or had enough chemistry for people to automatically like me. I'd never been the instantly-and-easily-likeable sort of person, though both my parents were, but I don't think I'd ever been the kind you would instantly hate either.

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