Page 7 of You're The One
I clear my throat, steeling myself. Confidence hasn’t failed me yet. “If it weren’t for Hannah and Ryan introducing me to my favorite show,You’re The One, I wouldn’t be standing here and telling you all that I’m going to be their next bachelor.”
The crowd erupts into a mix of cheers, laughter, confusion, and dropped jaws. Volk, our goalie and the grumpiest bastard on the team, slaps me on the back. “Another one bites the dust.”
“I’ll always be a Sinner, don’t worry, bud,” I joke.
Ada and Natalie giggle from their corner of the yard, and Volk shoots a pointed glare at Natalie. Some might find it concerning, but it’s basically his love language.
Mia, still next to me, looks like she’s seen a ghost, but the shock fades quickly into a familiar, sour expression. Not surprising.
It’s not like I’m looking for her approval.
“To finding your one true love.” I raise my glass toward Lo and Hannah. “Looks like I’m next.”
Mia coughs, and I turn toward her with a wide smile.
As the crowd disperses, breaking into groups and picking up previous conversations, I’m greeted by no less than five cameras, each with someone holding them, along with a producer named Emile, whose accent is similar to Volk’s, and a “handler”—whatever the hell that means—who looks more like a professional surfer than someone who works in Hollywood.
“I’m Bodhi. You probably don’t know what a ‘handler’ is… Think of me as your assistant. I’m here to guide you through the process and make sure you get where you’re going and on time. This one”—he gestures toward Emile—“is a stickler for punctuality.”
Okay, we’re diving straight in.
“Got it,” I manage, temporarily overwhelmed by having all the lenses trained on me.
Emile nods, turning to the cameramen and barking out directions.
Bodhi must sense my discomfort. “I know it’s hard, but you’re the star of the show. We want you to look good, so odds are everything that airs will be complimentary.” He chuckles. “Just don’t do anything salacious. Not gonna lie, they’ll air that, too. For the ratings, you know?”
Except, I don’t really know. “Like what?”
He tips his head from side to side. “Let’s not worry about that now, yeah? Just be yourself. Enjoy the party and pretend we’re not here.”
“Got it,” I repeat, silently telling myself to get it together. I slip into the mask I wear for interviews and public appearances: unbothered, charming, personable. I want the women to see the real me, but none of them are here today.
My focus drifts until a welcome distraction shows up in the form of King, our captain, with Helm, our rookie and my linesman. He plays right, with Lo at center forward. King pulls me into a conversation about his new cat—of all things—and how his injury recovery’s going, while Helm fills us in on his summer plans, which involve picking up women and getting up to all kinds of nonsense.
The guys call him my mini-me, and honestly? I can’t argue. I laugh, realizing he’s exactly like I was a decade ago… and I’m stillnot the best at staying out of trouble. Hopefully, he fares better with age and experience.
The rest of the afternoon drags. Emile occasionally jumps in with questions from off-screen and pulls my friends aside for what look like interviews—they better be singing my praises. But he’s gathering more than that. Clips of me laughing with the guys. Wide shots of the house. Whatever filler they need to make me look like the perfect bachelor. All the pieces for that cheesy “introducing the bachelor” montage in the first episode.
They haven’t asked me to film a shower scene. Yet. I doubt I’ll be spared from that embarrassment. Every season includes the slow pan of a guy’s abs, water dripping dramatically down them.
At least my abs are up to snuff.
Bodhi sticks by my side, like some kind of emotional support dog. I don’t mind it. His carefree beach-bum vibe helps keep my nerves in check. But when he’s not with me, his attention drifts to Mia. Every time he disappears, I find him talking to her.
I head their way with a refill for Mia in hand. Her laughter grows louder the closer I get. When I touch her elbow, she startles, but Bodhi looks delighted by my interruption. I get the sense it takes a lot to rattle this guy.
Mia takes the beer and hands me her empty. “Having fun?” I ask.
“Yeah, bro. This place has great energy,” Bodhi answers, like I was asking him.
Mia’s lips twitch around the bottle before she takes a swig. “Great energy,” she echoes, her tone mocking, though Bodhi doesn’t catch on.
“I haven’t seen you around.” I’m convinced she’s switched up her morning routine just to steer clear of me.
“That’s probably because I’ve gotten better at avoiding you,” she confirms.
God, this woman.She’s either pretending I don’t exist or chewing me out. I think I prefer the latter.
