“I mean, from what I saw, yes.” He said this nonchalantly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and shifting in his seat. The double entendre, intended or not, was met with loud chuckles from Pete and Jenna, and Hayes’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. He shot me an awkward look and then quickly averted his eyes.

I gritted my teeth in a tight smile. “Like I said, there were other people trying to help too,” I chimed in. I was grateful for what Hot Suit had done, but the message they were hammering home, that I was desperate for this guy’s help, was beyond irritating. “A woman offered me her hair clip, which would have probably done the trick.”

Hayes raised his brows, and that blush from earlier was gone, replaced with a cocky smirk. He was laughing. Laughing at me, at what I’d said. “I saw…you,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “And I don’t think a hair clip could have helped the situation.”

And just like that, my gratitude was gone. Just who did this guy think he was, anyway?

“Your story was followed by hundreds of thousands of people online who were sure they saw sparks fly between the two of you,” Jenna said.

“That’s very flattering,” I started.

“I’m sure Ms. Doyle is very nice,” Hayes said, his voice low and firm. “But we…I’m…sure she’s not my type.”

My eyes tried to roll up and out of my head. Not his type? What kind of arrogant troll says that in front of millions of people on TV?

“Nor would I be hers, either. That’s what I meant to say.” He tried, unsuccessfully, to recover from the low blow he had just lobbed at me. “Whatever sparks people saw were all made up by the person who posted those photos of us online.”

“Well, we’ll let our audience decide if they’re seeing sparks today! Franny,” Pete said, shifting gears, “what’s next for you?”

“Job searching, I assume?” Jenna leaned forward, perked up by the change of topics. She surely didn’t mean it to sound belittling, but just the question alone made me feel small, a tiny puddle next to Hayes’s waterfall of success. And then there was my mom, already texting me about jobs when I’d barely been unemployed for longer than a minute. I hated the mix of imposter syndrome and fear of letting people down that was churning inside me. So I opened my mouth.