Page 114 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

“Then when you said that in an interview—”

“I was telling the truth,” Daniel admits. “It helped sell our relationship, sure, but I wasn’t lying.”

“But—” I close my eyes for a moment, trying to take this all in. “Why?”

“Alice Chen,” Daniel says solemnly, “you’ve always known exactly what you want, and you go after it so fiercely and fearlessly. From the moment I met you, when you beat me in our very first competition together, I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Whenever we competed against each other, it felt like it was just you and me in our own world. I had a crush on you in high school, and when I went away to college, I realized it was maybe even more than that. Without you around, every victory rang hollow.”

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering how I felt when Daniel left. “I know what you mean. It just wasn’t the same.”

“It wasn’t,” Daniel says. “And then I go on this show, and you’re here, of all places. Seeing you again, seeing you strategize and compete and be yourself, it made me fall for you all over again. You push me in ways that no one else can. And you’re not just competitive—you’re smart and funny and you’re almost nice to me when I’m on the verge of death.”

I swat his arm playfully, but he catches my hand and holds it.

He looks into my eyes. “Alice, I’m my best self when you’re around. You make me want to challenge myself to be better, just to prove to you that I can keep up and sometimes even win. You’re so driven—not just to win, but to help other people. To do right by them. To speak out when something’s wrong. You’re smart, you’re razor-sharp, and you’re so brave.” Daniel chuckles. “I’ve never been to bar trivia with you, but I’m sure you crush the competition every time.”

“Correct,” I murmur, nestling into him. My fingers trace gently over his tattoo, the sequence of lines that Daniel never explained to me, and then it clicks.

“It’s the Korean flag!” I say, gripping his arm.

He raises an eyebrow at me. “Please elaborate.”

“The Korean flag depicts the four trigrams for sky, water, earth, and fire. But they’re in a different order on your arm.”

“That’s part of it.”

“I think,” I say, considering, “the marks look like binary. Four digits. A birthday?”

“My grandmother’s. I had it done when she passed,” Daniel says. “I wanted to keep a piece of her with me.”

I circle the marking with my hands. “You said she raised you? I can’t imagine what that was like, losing someone that close to you.”

“It was rough,” Daniel says. “She was such a big part of my life for so long. But, in a way, her passing ended up being a catalyst for getting to know my dad. Growing up, I just didn’t have anything in common with him. To me, he was this stern, distant figure.”

Daniel sighs. “Losing my grandmother hit my dad hard. He took a month off of work to grieve. We ended up spending a lot of that time together. We even started meeting up to go running. We still do, every Sunday.” His mouth quirks in a crooked smile. “We’re planning to do the Tokyo Marathon next year.”

“That sounds like fun,” I say quietly.

Daniel hesitates, and then says, “I’d love for you to meet him.”

“As long as I don’t have to run, I’d love that,” I say, and it feels like a promise. “So what about the other tattoo? What’s the story behind the frog in the hat?”

Daniel laughs. “I just like frogs. He’s my little guy.”

I laugh with him. I’m enjoying our new intimacy on more than one level. I lean in, kissing the spot where his jaw meets his ear, my hand wandering down to trace his abs.

Then I yawn so hard, I hear my jaw crack.

“We’d better go to bed,” he says. “We’ll need our rest if we’re going to survive this show.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” I grumble, my hands passing one suggestive stroke down his body before I reach to turn off the water.

Once we’ve toweled off and brushed our teeth, we ease into the bed. I know I’m a goner as soon as my head hits the pillow. Daniel crawls in next to me, and I indulge in the lazy satisfaction of tangling our legs together as we warm up the bed.

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” he says drowsily.

“What is it?” I murmur, already half asleep.

“It’s about our last challenge. Youreallynever called me an egotistical know-it-all?”

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