Erika POV: Nervous, I enter the mansion and head to the kitchen; where Jake was already waiting for me. It was time for the first date, and I was a bit on edge. “Hi,” I say as Jake pulls me into a quick hug. “Hey,” he replies. “That was a pretty cheesy card you sent,” I say as I step back from him. He laughs. “I don’t write those cards, the producers do.” “Ahh, makes sense.” He scratches his head. “So you probably didn’t expect to get picked. And honestly I wasn’t going to pick you; especially after our arrangement. But there was a mixup and here we are. So I’m hoping you know how to cook?” I smile. “Lucky for you, I love to cook.” He sighs in relief. “Thank god.” I laugh, and go to the counter to flip through the cookbook. “Hmm..how about blueberry tarts?” He shrugs. “Whatever you want is fine. I can barely boil water, so my input isn’t important.” I laugh. “Guess I’m going to have to take the lead on this then.” We get cooking; with me giving directions and Jake following. For a beginner, he wasn’t too bad. As I roll the dough and he mixes the flour, I felt the urge to get to know him better. “So, do you have any siblings?” He nods. “One brother. His name’s Logan, he’s famous too. Kind of a dick sometimes though.” “Like you aren’t?” He chuckles. “You know you don’t have to insult me every time we talk, right?” “But that wouldn’t be any fun.” “Meanie.” He pinches up a bit of flour from his bowl and throws it at me. I gasp, then reach over to pick up some flour and throw it back. “Don’t be such a baby.” “Oh you did not call me a baby. Take it back.” “No.” “Take it back.” “No.” He grabs a fistful full and chucks it at me; and before we know it he’s chasing me around the kitchen as I dodge his fists of flour. “Take it back Erika!” “No!” I half yell half giggle. He finally corners me by the stove. “Take it back or I’ll dump the whole thing on you.” “You wouldn’t.” “Try me.” He starts to slowly tip the bowl, and when it gets too close I smack it away. Unfortunately, that only sends the contents spraying all over both of us. Covered in flour, we stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Well there goes our dish,” I say in between laughs.