“Thank you,” is what I say instead of telling him to go to sleep.
“Who else is on your list?”
“Excuse me?” My list is something I don’t want to talk about, especially with him.
Joshua moves, closing the gap. “I want to know about that list you mentioned earlier. I can’t be the only one on it.”
I look at him like he has two heads, only to be rewarded with his laugh and a shit-eating grin. I shake my head ever so slightly, but he doesn’t back down.
“I’m your husband.”
“Low blow, Wilson,” I say quickly. “I’d be careful with how you use that word because I might request conjugal visits.”
“We’re not in jail.”
“Feels like it. I mean, sure, we can wear our own clothes and we have to pick up after ourselves, but we can’t leave and the cameras are always on.”
Joshua starts to laugh, and in the process gets closer to me. If this is the kind of sleeper he is—the bed hog type—it’s no wonder he hasn’t settled down yet. He probably gets kicked out of bed.
“Tell me who’s on your list, Joey.” This time when he asks, or demands, his voice is low and sultry, making my insides twist with excitement.
“Aside from you, David Beckham.”
He blanches, but recovers quickly. I should tell him he has nothing to worry about, but I like watching him squirm. He should know that I don’t stand a chance with Beckham, he’s just very nice to look at and I definitely would take the opportunity if it presented itself.
“Why him?” he asks in a voice different from his earlier question.
He’s insecure?
I offer a one-shoulder shrug, wishing we could change the subject. This is why I didn’t want to tell him. “He’s hot. He’s very easy on the eyes. And he looks very good in his underwear.”
“Is he number one or two?”
“What?”
Joshua moves closer, his breath tickling me lightly. “Who’s number one on your list, Joey?” The sultriness is back, making it hard for me to concentrate.
“We should go to sleep.” I ignore his question. I don’t want to contribute to his ego any more than I already have.
“Why?” he asks.
I close my eyes, hoping he follows suit. I wait a full minute, which is probably more like thirty seconds and open them again. Joshua is staring at me, smiling.
“I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I am. You should, too.”
“I will,” he says. “I want to watch you for a few minutes. Is that okay?”
Shrugging, I push deeper into my pillow and close my eyes. Tomorrow is going to be busy. We have a date competition, and I want to win. Not because I need a date with Joshua, but because I don’t like to lose. The more I think about it, he’s probably used to being up until the wee hours of the morning, which means he’ll sleep in and leave me to deal with the others. Just when I’m about to open my eyes and tell him to get some sleep, he whispers into the air, “Joey, who’s your number one?”
“You are,” I tell him before I can hold the words back. I keep my eyes closed for fear of rejection. When he pulls my hand out from under my cheek and locks his fingers with mine, I know I just made his night. I can sleep happily knowing I did something for him.
“I’m Patrick Jonas, and welcome to another episode of Married Blind.”
[Theme music plays]
“Tonight we’ll join the newlyweds to check in with them and see how their relationships are developing, and we have another competition in store for them.”