Separating from him had felt to Ejiro like tearing out a limb.
Ameri’s voice brought him back to the present. “Today, the men tell all! We’ll be reviewing highlights of the show so far, and I’ll be asking the men certain questions that have popped up every now and then to clarify some behind-the-scenes action. The audience will also be given the opportunity to ask some questions”—said audience clapped and whistled at this—“so, hopefully, we get a better picture of everything that went down. Hope you don’t mind, Chad, but I’ll start with you.”
The audience laughed. Chad grimaced.
“Oh boy, here we go,” he said, making the audience laugh again.
“I just have one thing to say: what on earth were you thinking?”
The audience burst out laughing, even harder than before, then swelled with applause.
When they eventually quieted down, Chad said, still with that grimace on his face, “Honestly, Ameri, I have no idea.”
More laughter and applause burst out, and it set the tone for the rest of the evening. Ameri began from the bottom—from the very first few to be eliminated—and slowly made her way to the top. All the men had made it for the live show except Homophobic Hunter, who hadn’t been invited back.
They stopped for a break twice, and throughout the time, Ejiro had to pretend like Obiora was just another bachelor; he had to resist the urge to look at him—really look at him—to reach over and touch his hand, or kiss him, or beg for reassurance. It made him hyperaware of how tactile they usually were; it felt unnatural, forcing himself to be apart from him, to keep from touching him. It hurt. Like a toothache.
By the time Ameri made it to them, Ejiro was ready to vibrate out of his skin.
“Saving one of the best for last of course.” She’d barely finished the sentence when the audience started trying to scream the roof down. “Obiora,” she began, to which the screams and wolf whistles actually increased, making Ameri laugh and glance at the audience incredulously.
The sounds eventually died down. Ejiro was painfully, perfectly still. He was sure on the screens, he probably looked unaffected, a small smile on his face, but inside, he was trembling like a newborn giraffe.
Ameri still looked greatly amused. “Obiora, some fans are saying you didn’t come onto the show with pure intentions, that is, you held a lot of yourself back when you were with the bachelorette. Now, I’m not saying Sophia’s entirely blameless—she did admit to holding back as well when it came to the two of you—but the fans would like to hear things from your point of view.”
Ejiro didn’t really hear Obiora’s answer. He was too busy trying not to look like he was staring and simultaneously like he wasn’t staring. He had to look at Obiora when he spoke, right? He’d done that for most of the other bachelors, after all. But would looking be weird? Would it give him away? How long could he look that wouldn’t be considered revealing?
Ameri asked a few more questions about Obiora’s relationship with the other men, his cooking skills, and more, before finally zeroing in on the hot topic of the night.
“So. Obiora. It’s time for The Question.” The audience “oohed” on cue. “You said, on the night you were eliminated, that you’d fallen in love with one of the other bachelors.” They “oohed” again. “Could you tell us a bit more about that? Keep in mind, you’ve just told us how you held a bit of yourself back because of the hurt you’ve experienced in previous relationships, so the people want to know: how did this bachelor end up breaking down your walls where Sophia had unsucceeded?”
Ejiro was—if it were possible—even stiller than before. He carefully didn’t look in Obiora’s direction, but all his senses were on high alert, completely focused on Obiora’s answer.
“Well, I wouldn’t say he broke down my walls so much as I let them down for him.”
Oh. Ejiro tried not to physically melt into his seat, his blush thankfully hidden underneath his dark skin.
The audience awwed. Even without looking at him, Ejiro knew Obiora was probably blushing at the reaction.
Obiora continued, voice soft and serious, “It happened—as most of these situations do—completely out of my control. It started with a simple attraction, which was easy enough to ignore. Then we started to talk more—got to know each other a lot better and before I knew it, I was gone. Head over heels. He’s just—such a genuinely sweet soul it would have been harder not to fall in love with him.”
The audience awwed again, and broke into a light applause. Ejiro wanted to reach out and hold his hand so fucking badly. He wanted Obiora to look at him, the way he was probably looking at the camera, his feelings bare for all to see.
Ameri had one hand pressed to her chest, an adoring expression on her face. “That’s so, so lovely, Obiora. Thank you so much for sharing. Now, I know the audience is going to crucify me if I don’t ask this question”—the crowd laughed—“so here we go: is the bachelor in question in this room?”
There was a pause. “Yes.”
The audience was vibrating, Ejiro included.
“I don’t want to overstep, or cross any boundaries or abuse your privacy and what not, but again, I have to ask: are the two of you in a relationship? Please know that you don’t have to answer this question.” The audience booed. “They don’t,” Ameri said, slightly-sharply, though still in a friendly tone. “Their private lives are honestly none of our business. That said, if you don’t want to answer the question, just say pass, and we’ll move on.”
It was so quiet one could hear a pin drop.
And then, like it was scripted, like they’d completely rehearsed it, Ejiro turned to look at Obiora at the same time that Obiora turned to look at him, a slight question in his eyes.
And suddenly, with those eyes on him—despite the cameras, despite the audience and the presence of the other men, and the fact that his twin, Blessing, his friends, Obiora’s friends and entire family—despite the fact that everyone he freaking knew was probably watching this—with those eyes on him, Ejiro knew he could do anything.
At that moment, he wanted only one thing: he wanted the entire world to know that this beautiful, wonderful man was his.
