“Yes,” Ejiro answered to the surprise of the watchers, a little shyly, unable to bear looking at the cameras. He reached out on instinct, something within him settling when Obiora immediately joined their hands, tangling their fingers. “We’re in a relationship.”
There was a jubilant uproar from the audience. Ejiro was blushing so hard his cheeks were hurting. Obiora’s grin was brighter than the sun.
“Oh my God,” Ejiro whispered, resisting the urge to hide behind his hands. He couldn’t look anywhere but at their joined hands. Within his breast, the mixture of sickening dread and anticipation he’d been feeling was replaced by an almost painful release.
In the moment, and before it, admitting it had seemed so huge. But in the aftermath, all Ejiro felt was relief.
And joy. He glanced at Obiora to find his boyfriend already watching him. They smiled sappily at each other, and this, Ejiro thought—this was why it was worth coming out on national TV: the abundant love and passion burning in Obiora’s eyes, and the brilliant, overjoyed grin that stretched his full lips.
When the noise got too much, the staff had to come in to force the audience to quiet down.
“Just to clarify”—Ameri’s expression was just as bright and excited—“Ejiro, are you saying you’re the bachelor in question?”
Obiora squeezed his hand. Ejiro nodded. “I am.”
Ameri continued, cutting off the crowd’s rising excitement. “And you reciprocated his feelings during the filming?”
Another squeeze. “Yes.”
The people had to be quieted down again. He and Obiora probably looked like lovesick fools with how widely they were grinning, though Ejiro’s grin was a little shy. They could barely keep their eyes off each other.
“Now, Ejiro, I guess I’ll focus on you now.” Slight laughter. “If you don’t mind answering, how did this come about? Far as anyone knew, at the start of the competition, you were straight.”
“Oh.” Obiora squeezed his hand again in silent support. Fuck, Ejiro loved him. “I mean, I guess, or, at least, I thought it was. But I’m actually biromantic and demisexual.” Fuck, it felt good to say it out loud.
Obiora squeezed his hand again. Ejiro squeezed back, glancing at him and preening at the pride he saw on Obiora’s face.
“Could you elaborate on that?”
Ejiro tore his eyes away to focus on Ameri and the cameras, Obiora’s grip on his like an anchor. “I don’t want to speak for all demisexual people, but personally, for me, it means I only experience sexual attraction when a good deal of mutual trust along with an emotional bond has been formed first.”
“And you didn’t feel these emotions with Sophia?”
Ejiro tried not to grimace. “I wasn’t ready to come out at that time, which is why I didn’t mention this, but no, I didn’t. My feelings for Obiora sort of overlapped with my falling out with Sophia. When Sophia …” He had to pause for a moment, because thinking about that kiss still felt awful, though not as bad as it used to be. Obiora’s hand tightly gripping his also helped. “When Sophia kissed me, Obiora was actually the one who talked me down. I was panicking and blaming myself, you know?” The audience made a disapproving noise. Ejiro smiled gratefully in their direction. “I blamed myself for not reading her signals, for not responding better to her desires, but Obiora made it clear that the reason I was feeling so upset was that, intentionally or not, Sophia had violated my boundaries. I might’ve liked her and found her lovely—which I did, and I do—but that didn’t necessarily mean I was ready or even wanted to take that step.”
“And that was the moment everything that could have worked with Sophia didn’t?” Ameri prompted.
Ejiro nodded. “Yes. Exactly.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Ameri said, nodding. “Thank you so much for sharing that with us, Ejiro. I’m sad it didn’t work out with Sophia, but hey, it seems like you still got a good deal out of the whole thing, am I right?”
Ejiro blushed furiously, even as he said, “You are absolutely right.”
The audience cheered.
THE REST OF THE SEGMENT went by in a blur. Sophia came on stage at some point to surprise the men and the audience, and they interacted with her briefly, exchanging regrets, apologies and well wishes, and then it was all finally over.
Some of the men exchanged numbers, wanting to keep in touch. Obiora was still holding Ejiro’s hand. After Ejiro had admitted to them being in a relationship—on live fucking TV, no less—all the anxious tension they’d no doubt been feeling all night had rapidly transformed into something else.
It felt like a live wire was sparking between them. Obiora couldn’t even look at Ejiro for fear that he would literally jump his bones right fucking there.
He couldn’t stop picturing it, the resolve and conviction in Ejiro’s eyes as he’d said the words, his eyes locked on Obiora. The shy way he’d ducked his head at the audience’s wild reaction. The way he’d squeezed Obiora’s hand like it was a lifeline. Everything that had come afterward, how easily the words had spilled from his lips.
Something dark and possessive had taken root in Obiora’s chest at the realisation that Ejiro had literally just claimed him—claimed them—on live TV—proclaimed to most of the entire fucking world that Obiora was fucking his.
By the time they made it back to the hotel, they were both taut with tension. Each time their eyes met, a frisson of electricity shot through Obiora’s body, pooling like liquid warmth in his lower belly.
Obiora wanted to take Ejiro up to their room immediately, but they had to go to the hotel’s bar to meet their families; Obiora’s brothers and parents, along with Ejiro’s twin and her girlfriend, had all made sure to make it to London to support them during the filming. Ameri had offered to have them in the audience, but they’d declined, opting instead to get drunk in the hotel bar while watching the live show on the TV mounted in the room.
