One by one the other pairs braved the recaps and the judges’ comments—mostly lackluster, except for Danny El, who had made, wait for it . . . mac and cheese that the judges “wanted to lick off their dishes.”

As DJ waited for the combined scores to be computed so he could announce them, Jonah ran up to Ashna and Rico at their station. “That was amazeballs.” He gave Rico a fist bump and Ashna a worshipful glance. “You guys are trending everywhere!”

What was wrong with people? Ashna didn’t understand this obsession with other people’s lives. Jonah pulled up Twitter and Instagram on his tablet and waved it about, parroting all the hashtags she and Rico now were: #knifegate #churrosolimp, and the one that made Jonah the giddiest: #Ashico, which when said out loud sounded far too much like the Hindi word ashiquo which, disastrously enough, meant “lovers.”

There were also betting pools for when Ashna and Rico would go public with their “relationship.” There was definite consensus about the fact that they were together. #Lobsters.

Rico was a sea of calm in the face of this tidal swell of information. Ashna felt like she was drowning. His studying—and steadying, dang it—gaze kept coming back to her, so she had no choice but to keep her shit together.

“Relax,” Rico said as Jonah went off to accost someone else with data. “It only means that we aren’t getting voted off anytime soon.”

“First, never tell someone to relax if you actually want them to relax,” Ashna snapped, feeling entirely cornered. “All those girlfriends and not one of them ever told you this?”

His brows flew up and Ashna had the briefest moment of satisfaction before awareness brightened his eyes and she realized what she had admitted to. Yes, she had fallen down the Google rabbit hole that was Frederico Silva’s media coverage. Girlfriends, winning moments, underwear ads. It was quite the cornucopia of a life well lived. She wanted to sink into the floor. Even so, his openmouthed wordlessness was so darned satisfying she spun around and walked to the stage again, where the contestants were lining up and DJ was ready with the results.

Rico took his place next to her, his body tight with tension.

A small voice in her heart chided her for snapping at him when he had only been trying to help. Why did he do this? Why him? What was it that made him see all the way inside her?

Yesterday, he’d navigated the roller coaster of her panic unflinchingly. It was difficult for him to not push, to not immediately understand. Patience didn’t come naturally to him, and yet when she’d asked for what she needed, support with the cooking challenge, space, he’d given it without question.