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No, no, no! This can’t be what I think it is.

“For those of you who don’t remember, let me refresh those brain cells for ya!” Mina snaps her fingers, and a screen flickers to life behind her.

I hear the song by the Righteous Brothers first. Then I see Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze.

My knees become water as the two actors perform the scene from Ghost where Patrick’s behind Demi and they mold the clay.

It might be the hottest, most sensual, messiest scene in all cinema history. Not that I’m a cinephile. I’m just saying.

“That’s right, y’all,” Mina says to a bunch of dropped jaws.

Yep, everyone’s feeling about the same as I do. I sneak a look at Rhett, and his jaw is set hard enough to crack.

He won’t look at me. Is he regretting the kiss? Did I do something wrong?

Mina continues, “Tonight, each of y’all will make a small cup, or vase, or bowl—whatever you want—out of clay. You must work together as Demi and Patrick did, with one partner sitting behind the other. You will be judged on how well you communicate to create your entry. And there’s a twist!”

I shoot Rhett a worried look, but he shakes his head. He doesn’t know any more than I do.

“Callie and Jeff—since you came in last in our first challenge, you will get an advantage.”

Callie and Jeff smile at each other.

“Up on this table are five blocks of clay of different sizes. You get to handpick each pair’s block. You may do that now.”

Rhett whispers, “They’ll give us the biggest one.”

“No, they won—”

But sure enough, Callie drops the largest block of clay at our station.

My stomach sinks. Not only will Rhett and I be touching through the whole challenge, but we’ll have the hardest piece to work with.

Wait. Why am I upset about this?

This is perfect.

With the biggest block, we’ll clearly have the worst creation, which means we’ll receive the least amount of points, which means we’ll be well on our way to losing.

Problem solved.

Thank you, Callie and Jeff!

“Couples, you have thirty-five minutes to create your masterpiece. On your mark . . . get set . . . go!”

I glance up, and Rhett’s looking at me with an expression I can’t pinpoint, but there’s something about it that makes me squirm, like it’s anticipation for what’s about to come.

“Let’s get started,” I tell him.

Other couples are already in the Moore/Swayze position. My legs go wobbly just taking them in. This is real. This is intimate. This is on a live stream.

There might be a special place in hell for Mina.

Just kidding. She’s a nice person.

But really, is this supposed to create intimacy?

Rhett and I will simply have to show everyone how we’re not a fantastic fit—how we’re two left shoes on one pair of feet.