Week two of Enlisted consists of dates. Lots and lots of dates. Nine guys remain, so over the course of four days, I have nine dates. Nine. Nine televised dates.

Could be worse. The guys have ten, one with each woman left on set.

For the masterminds behind a show with a unique premise, the producers didn't channel all that much creativity into the date ideas. Every single one involves a meal and nothing else. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, all in various places around the Enlisted property. To be fair, we do have amazing chefs on set, but I was expecting something semi-interesting, you know?

I just have to remind myself that beggars such as myself can't be choosers and enjoy the free food while it lasts.

Sunday night, when Sarah doled out the schedules, my first thoughts were, of course, about Max. First, How the heck did he know about our Wednesday date ahead of time? Second, Do I really have to wait until Wednesday at noon?

As you can probably guess, thought number three was a severe scolding aimed at myself. 

Breakfast dates begin at eight o'clock sharp, which means we have to report to our stylists at six. I'm not a morning person. Never have been. Never will be. Forcing my booty out of bed at 5:45 a.m. three days in one week is akin to torture.

I showed up to my Monday pancake breakfast with bags under my eyes even Devin couldn't fix.

Not that I cared. Ethan talked about Evelyn nearly the entire time, so in the wise words of Randy Jackson from American Idol, it was a no from me, dawg. Jake, my Monday dinner date, was cute and sweet, but he chewed louder than a dumb cow, so his chances of earning a spot on my list disappeared with the appetizers.

Julian seemed nervous during our Tuesday breakfast date, probably because he thought I'd bring up the whole making out with Claire thing, since I'm obviously #TeamMaddie. He was wrong. If I'm going to bitch out a guy on my friend's behalf, I won't initiate the altercation underneath a boom mic.

He barely carried our conversation, so I kept pulling topics out of thin air. We briefly talked about the weather. At one point, I asked if Arizona has any sports teams. They do, apparently, but that discussion didn't even last five minutes, so I don't recall any of them. Zero chance the encounter makes it into the ninety precious minutes of Enlisted airtime.

At lunch, Levi and I bonded over not eating red meat when we asked the chefs if they had anything besides burgers on hand. I like to think of it as my first, and hopefully last, reality TV diva moment. Anyway, I'm a Levi fan. He's talkative, outdoorsy, and smart as a whip. Definitely Maddie's type. She just about knocked down my door after and demanded details on everything we talked about. I think it's safe to say she's over Julian.

In case you're wondering, I'm also #TeamLevi or, as Noelle dubbed them, #TeamLaddie.

As crazy as the past thirty-six hours have been, I'm loving this packed schedule. I barely have time to think about Max when my days consist of dating, digesting, and repeating. I haven't even ventured outside the villa for anything besides dates.

Has Max? you might be wondering.

Yes. Yes, he has.

At this very moment, an hour before my dinner date with Hunter, Max is chilling on a lawn chair on the porch outside my room. He's just lounging there, aviators on, reading Slaughterhouse-Five. Well, he knocked five minutes ago. Then, when I didn't answer, he went ahead and set up shop.

Like a doomed feline, curiosity gets the better of me.

"Hey, Max. Whatcha doing?" Casual, I know.

He lifts his book. "Reading and waiting."

"Waiting for?"

"You."

I probably could have guessed that. "Well, I'm here," I say awkwardly.

"Yeah." He folds the corner of his page. "You jealous?"

"Mostly confused, actually."

He chuckles. "Sunday. If looks could kill, Ava would be six feet under."

I glare at him. "Not Ava."

"I meant what I said Saturday night. I'm only interested in you."

I can't help it. I blush. "Max, were you trying to make me jealous?"

"No."

I'm all sorts of confused. "Then why did you ask?"

"Your face tells better tales than Kurt." He smirks, displaying the Vonnegut novel once again. "Ava asked if I wanted to take a walk. Felt like kind of a dick saying no."

"Interesting. I didn't think Max Vaughn cared much about feelings."

"I'm full of surprises, Mia Benson. May I enter?"

Ignoring the warning bells firing off in my head, I step aside to allow this sexy, irritating man into my room. "Don't mind the mess."

"I don't mind at all." As if to illustrate his point, he pushes aside a pile of discarded clothes and plops down on the bed. "So, how have your dates been?"

"Eh." I shrug. The guy can read me like a book. There's no sense in pretending like I'm enjoying other men's company. "I like Levi. I could see us being friends. I haven't felt connections to any of the guys yet. How have yours been?"

He ignores my question. "Jake's been talking about you."

"He's a loud chewer. I was about to stab myself in the eardrums."

Max's laugh rings out, and I'm pretty certain most of the second floor knows he's currently in my room. Lovely. "Yeah, he is. The guys leave a wide berth around the kitchen when he's in there."

"How have your dates gone?" I repeat.

"I got to know Noelle this morning. She really didn't want to talk about how you two signed up for the show. Interesting, huh?"

"Fascinating," I deadpan.

He smirks. "I'm going to get the full story out of one of you eventually."

I huff because he probably will. "How about your other dates?" He opens his mouth, but I'm not done. "And no, I'm not jealous. Just making conversation."

"Let's see. Ava groped me. Scarlett talked about herself for an hour. I like Lila, but she's not list material."

"She seems sweet," I try. I haven't spoken to Lila much, but she held the door for me yesterday.

"Yeah. Loud, too."

He can't mean what I think he does. I feign ignorance and hope for the best. "Really? She keeps to herself around the villa."

Max winks. "Not upstairs."

"You slept with her?" I squeak. My heart sinks when he smirks.

"Jealous?"

I should have known that, in his eyes, I'm just a game, a plaything to entertain him while he's on a show he's too good for. I swallow my hurt and force out a stern, albeit slightly choked, "Get. Out."

"I didn't sleep with her, Mia. My room is between Jake's and Oliver's. She's made a couple rounds." He winks. "How many times do I have to tell you before you believe me? I'm only interested in you."

And then he stands up and steps towards the door.

But I'm not done with him yet.

"Max!"

That effing smirk. "Yes, Mia?"

I want to tell him to come back and kiss me. That, or demand he never speak to me again. Instead, my voice breaks. "Don't fuck with me like that."

The playful gleam in his eye vanishes. "Come on another walk with me tonight."

I shouldn't. He's messing with my head, and it's not okay. "Maybe."

"Just maybe?"

"Yes, Max," I sigh. "Just maybe."

"You want to."

I've given up on denying truths to Max Vaughn. He sees right through me. "Yeah, I do, but I don't want you to show up at my door tomorrow asking if I'm jealous and hinting that you slept with someone."

"Does that bother you?"

I flail my arms like a cornered leash kid. "No shit."

"How do you think I feel when I see you with Elijah or swooning over Hunter?"

I grit my teeth. "I'm not swooning over Hunter. I thought he was hot the first day on set. Sue me." With an eye roll, I add, "And I'm getting to know people. Including Elijah. That's the whole point of this damn show. You should get to know people, but you shouldn't rub it in my face. I'm not rubbing anything in yours."

"I only want to get to know you. Who's your date with tonight?"

This is bad timing. "Hunter."

He shakes his head in disapproval, as if I'm the one who scheduled it. "Stay here with me instead."

"I'm not getting myself kicked off the show."

"You don't think they're bluffing?"

To be honest, I hadn't thought of that. "I don't know, but I'm not going to risk it. I need the—" I cut myself off.

Those gray eyes stare into my soul and read my mind like a freaking book. "The money?" His voice is softer now.

"The Instagram followers, actually," I mutter. It's a complete lie. My profile's still on private.

The chuckle I lo—don't know how I feel about fills my room. "Mia Benson, influencer?"

"Yes, my followers live to see my shitty apartment and—" I need to shut up.

"I'd love to see it. One room more than others."

"The broken elevator?"

The smirk is back. "We could get a lot done in there."

I'm feeling way too many emotions, and now I want Max Vaughn to fuck me in an elevator, and I'm entirely unsure what to do with myself. "I'll see you later, Max."

"Later?"

I hate him, and I hate myself more. "Later."

I tilt my head back in ecstasy, groaning.

This spring roll is incredible. The Enlisted chefs really outdid themselves.

"Enjoying yourself, Mia?" Hunter laughs. I don't know how it's physically possible, but I'm pretty sure Hunter Galloway is the only person in the entire world who manages to look attractive while housing lo mein.

"I'm in heaven," I sigh. "If I'm dead, don't resuscitate me."

"I'm afraid I've got to. Can't leave the world without Mia."

I shake my head. "They'll understand."

"So, Mia. You like spring rolls, dogs, tutoring, and running. What else makes you smile?"

I'm painfully aware of the cameras pointed in my face and the mic pack buried beneath my dress. "Well, that just about sums me up as a person." I force a laugh. My other hobbies might suggest to viewers that I have a drinking problem.

I decide to blast on back to the past for this answer. "Noelle and I ran a podcast in college. It was crazy fun."

"First thing I'm gonna do when I get my phone is track that down."

I guarantee the first thing he does is call his grandmother. He's so gosh darn wholesome. "Well, if you need boy advice and five-year-old pop culture references, you're in for a treat."

"Just what I'm after. Let's hear some."

"You want advice or references?"

"Surprise me."

"If you break up, you have to unfollow him on everything, including LinkedIn. You don't want his career updates popping up when you're trying to network."

"I'll be sure to do that when I get my phone back," he chuckles.

"Before or after you find the podcast?" I tease.

"I believe you're the one with all the advice."

"After. I think we've got some social media tips on there. You can take care of it all at once."

We continue trading friendly banter for the rest of the date, but as dinner goes on, I'm finding myself less attracted to him than I was during the introductions and mixer. He doesn't have me on my toes like Max or laughing until I have a stitch in my side like Elijah. I might swap him off my list for Oliver.

"As always, Mia, it was a pleasure," Hunter says, kissing the back of my hand. 

Don't worry. I promise his gesture isn't creepy like Wyatt's lingering lip-to-hand contact.

"Yeah, definitely. I'll see you la—around, Hunter."

It's official. Max Vaughn has ruined the word 'later' for me.