Chapter Seven Hell Is an Unscheduled Hangover
Chapter Seven
Hell Is an Unscheduled Hangover
When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I notice is the beam of sunlight shining directly in my eyes.
This never happens to me, because I have thick blackout curtains hanging in my bedroom. I block the sun with my hand and squint as the fog of sleep starts to lift and reality floods in.
My blackout curtains have failed me because there are no curtains.
There’s no cozy familiar bed or worn gray comforter that Chase steals over the course of the night. There’s no cramped apartment filled with math textbooks and stacks of exams for me to grade. There’s no faint lavender scent from the essential-oil diffuser Tara bought for me for my birthday or even the smell of burning bacon because Chase tried to cook it in the toaster—again.
Instead, I’m curled up next to Chase, who’s snoring up a storm on a military-style cot in the living room of a tropical villa. A villa that would, in other circumstances, be the perfect summer getaway, with its soaring four-story-high ceilings, elegant marble tiling, and designer furniture. Sunlight streams in through the tall windows, which offer a breathtaking view of the ocean.
But it’s hard to really appreciate the view, given the situation all around us. The room is crammed full of open suitcases and duffel bags. Sandy clothes are strewn everywhere, and half a dozen people are passed out on cots.
It looks like Ava and Noah had the right idea. I vaguely remember a producer saying that the bedrooms were first come, first serve—and the couples who turned in early must’ve snagged them. The rest of us have been relegated to living it up dormitory-style in this beachside mosh pit.
The previous day comes rushing back to me. I groan and flop back onto my cot, wishing I could erase my memories of last night. My head pounds, and my whole body feels slow and heavy. I feel like I’m one of those characters in Naruto who has to wear training weights that they can’t take off until they’re fighting a worthy opponent. (Thanks to my eighth graders, I know too much about Naruto .)
Brittany is on the cot next to me. When she pops up with a stretch and a yawn, still sporting the same red plaid shirt from yesterday tied at her midriff, she looks like a Folgers coffee commercial come to life.
“Good morning,” Brittany says cheerfully. “Where’d they go?” she asks, gesturing at the empty bedroom across from us.
“Ava and Noah,” Brittany clarifies. I’m about to say I have no idea where they are when I hear a thudding noise. We look out the window and spot Ava jumping rope while Noah punches a punching bag in a makeshift gym on the patio.
“Guess they never stop rising and grinding,” I say, and Brittany laughs.
When Brittany leaves to do her makeup, I’m left alone with my thoughts. Unbidden, my mind dredges up the memory of Daniel, hands in his pockets, talking to me by the pool. I can’t believe he’s here.
And, oh god, he saw me drunk last night.
My face burns with embarrassment. What was I talking about? Did I say all that stuff about rocks out loud ?
I rub my eyes. It’s fine. Everything is totally, completely fine. I don’t care what Daniel thinks about me.
And, besides, this isn’t even the first time he’s seen me drunk. The first time was junior year of high school, during Quiz Bowl Regional Finals. I’d convinced Cindy to join Quiz Bowl so that we’d have enough people to field a team. I promised her I’d do all the studying, and all she had to do was show up. She did it for me, but she also did it for the free overnight hotel stay paid for by the school.
As luck would have it, the brackets had shaken out such that we were facing off against Daniel’s school in the Regional Finals—which meant both teams were staying at the same hotel in Sacramento the night before the competition.
That night, I had everything all planned out. I was going to go through my stack of flash cards, then I’d take the vitamin C tablets my mom made me pack every time I traveled, brush my teeth, and go to sleep at 10 p.m. sharp. But Cindy had other plans.
“We’re having a party!” she exclaimed, bursting into the room waving a handle of vodka in one hand and a canvas tote of cups and bottles of juice in the other.
I glared at her. “We are definitely not having a party! And where’d you get that vodka?”
“Alice, I know this competition is a big deal for you, but we’re staying overnight at a hotel with no parents within a hundred-mile radius. And you’ve already studied your ass off. Like, I’m genuinely worried your ass is not there anymore.”
“Hey! Rude.”
“Look,” Cindy said, putting the vodka and juice down. “You’ve done everything you can. It’s time to let go. It won’t hurt to have a little fun.”
“Counterpoint,” I said. “Studying is fun.”
Cindy rolled her eyes. “Well, I already told everyone, so it’s too late—” A knock sounded, and Cindy gestured at the door. “I think that’s them.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “Have your party. I’m going to the business center to study.”
“Oh, come on, Alice—”
I opened the door, and our entire Quiz Bowl team poured into the room. By the time I finished gathering up all my flash cards, they’d already set up a big punch bowl on the mini fridge and a drinking game involving way too many red plastic cups.
“Don’t stay up too late,” I called over my shoulder to the team.
But as I power walked down the hallway, laser-focused on geology facts, I walked straight into someone. No, not just someone—Daniel Cho.
Note cards went flying. As they fluttered down around us, Daniel rubbed the spot on his chest where I’d collided with him.
“What are you doing lurking in our hallway?” I demanded. “Spying on us?”
“Yeah, I’m here to steal your top strategies for conquering flip cup,” he said dryly. Now that I wasn’t focused on my flash cards, I could see that a few of his Exeter Prep teammates were behind him. “No, Cindy invited us.”
“ Cindy invited you? ” I managed to squeak out.
“Hey, guys!” Cindy leaned out of the hotel room and waved. “Over here!”
I turned back to glare daggers at her, and she mouthed sorry at me. I shook my head, crouching down to pick up my scattered flash cards.
Daniel knelt down next to me, reaching for a card. I snatched it away.
“Nice try,” I snapped, “but these are proprietary.”
He held his hands up. “Whoa there, Slayer. I just wanted to help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said, gathering the rest of the cards. Despite my warning, he’d managed to snag a few cards and handed them to me as I stood up.
“I take it you’re not staying?” he asked.
“I need to study,” I said. “Unlike some people , I plan on winning.”
“Too bad,” he said. “We could’ve hung out.”
“Why? So you can sabotage me?” I narrowed my eyes at him.
“You got me. I was planning to steal your flash cards and draw butts on all of them.” Daniel nodded at me. “Well, have fun studying. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I watched Daniel walk away, the unfairness of it struck me all at once. Why should Daniel Cho get to have a party in my room with my best friend? And if Daniel thought he didn’t need to study tonight, then surely I didn’t need to either. I was just as prepared as him. No, I was way more prepared. And I was going to prove it to him.
I returned to the room, where the party was already in full swing.
Daniel raised an eyebrow at me. “You’re back.”
“I figured I should keep an eye on you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.” I grabbed a cup and ladled out some punch.
Daniel followed suit. “To the Regional Quiz Bowl Finals,” he said, raising his cup.
I tapped my cup against his and took a swig. It tasted of pineapple and was sweet, but not too sweet, with hints of spice. I didn’t hate it, and sipping the drink meant that I didn’t have to make small talk or play—and lose—a drinking game.
One of the Exeter Prep boys had brought a Nintendo Switch, and K-pop was playing through iPhone speakers. It was getting a bit warm in the hotel room, with everyone crammed together in there, but otherwise, this was nice. Maybe Cindy was right. I’d studied enough. I deserved this break.
“You throw a good party, Slayer,” Daniel said as I downed the rest of the drink.
I made a face at him. “First of all, it’s in my room, but it’s not my party. Second of all, I never approved that nickname.”
“I didn’t realize I had to submit it to the committee,” he said, smirking. I hated that smirk. It was like he was showing off his dimples on purpose.
“You know, not everyone is as charmed by you as you think,” I said, feeling unusually candid.
“What about you?” he asked, pointedly. “You said ‘not everyone.’ But you didn’t say ‘ I’m not charmed.’?”
“You know what I meant,” I said, scowling. I turned to get more punch, nearly tripping over Cindy’s sweater on the floor. I refilled my cup and was about to drink when Daniel covered my cup with his hand.
“Hang on, Slayer,” he said. “You know this isn’t just juice, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know how strong your friend made this punch, but I think you’re more than buzzed already. And hey, if that’s what you want, go for it. But I can’t imagine you actually want to be hungover during Regional Finals.”
“But I didn’t put any vodka in it,” I said, looking from the almost empty handle to the punch bowl.
“Slayer. The vodka is in the punch,” he said gently.
I pressed a hand to my cheek. Oh shit. The hotel room wasn’t getting warmer. I was. My cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. Daniel was right.
“I’m going to kill Cindy,” I said, dragging my hands through my hair. “I need to—” I shook my head, trying to clear it.
“You need to drink water,” he said. “No, wait. I can do better than water. Come on.”
So I ended up at the business center after all. I lay on the ground, waiting for the hotel to stop spinning, while Daniel bought coconut water from the vending machine.
“Here,” he said, handing me a bottle. “Electrolytes.”
I sat up to drink and then flopped back down on the floor.
“Stop being so tall up there,” I ordered.
He sat down next to me.
“Still too tall,” I grumbled.
With a laugh, he lay down next to me, a respectable distance away. “Does this meet with your approval?” he asked.
I nodded, which made the room swirl even more violently. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “You didn’t have to tell me the punch was spiked. You could’ve let me drink my way to a humiliating loss tomorrow.”
Daniel looked thoughtful. “I could tell you it was the honorable thing to do, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“How about this? I’m a senior now, and this is the last time we’ll face each other in competition. I’d hate to win under dubious circumstances. I want the record books to reflect that I beat you fair and square with no asterisk next to it explaining that my adversary had been compromised, even if it was by her own doing.”
“Wow.” I looked over at him. My mind caught on the first part of what he’d said. “The last time, huh?” We’d been locked in battle for the past three years.
He flipped to his side to face me. “Yeah. What are you going to do without me?”
“What I already do. Win.”
The next day, I powered through a mild headache to ace every question I managed to buzz in to. But thanks to the night before, the rest of my team couldn’t keep up. The Exeter boys weren’t in prime condition themselves, having partied right alongside my team, but it wasn’t enough of an advantage.
I had to carry my team, which wasn’t new, but I wasn’t used to doing it while nursing a hangover. Exeter beat us by one measly point, and Daniel himself answered the question.
“Who was the fabled king who could turn any item into gold?”
Daniel hit the buzzer lightning-fast. “Midas!”
Afterward, Daniel offered me a handshake. “I’ll miss you, Slayer.”
I hated losing. But I hated letting Daniel have the last word even more. “No, you won’t. Because the next time we meet, I’m going to win. Don’t rest on your laurels, Daniel Midas Cho.”
“A little late for giving me a nickname, isn’t it?”
“It fits you.” It really did. We’d both gone to the party, we’d both had the punch. But the price for me was defeat, while he walked away with the victory. He was the fabled king, with his team rallying behind him, and everything he touched turned to gold. But I’d known from the beginning, from the first day I’d joined the team and even before that, when I realized that it was just me and my mom against the world, that I could only ever count on myself.
—
I’m busy wallowing in regret when Leah sweeps in, looking fresh as a daisy.
“Rise and shine, lovebirds,” she says. I jostle Chase to wake him.
“I’m up, I’m up!” he insists, eyes still closed.
“It usually takes him a minute,” I tell Leah.
“Well, you don’t have a minute. I brought you both breakfast,” Leah says, flourishing two cups of bright-pink something. “Hangover smoothies!”
I regard my smoothie skeptically. “What’s in it?”
“Some hair of the dog, but not too much,” Leah says with a shrug. “We want you relaxed for the cameras, not wasted.”
“Is there anything else to drink?” I ask, looking around. I should’ve nabbed more water last night while I had the chance.
“Not really. Oh, we do have these.” Leah digs around in her large carry-all purse and pulls out two aluminum cans.
H2Whoa , the can reads. Water with personality.
Good enough. I grab the can, pop open the tab, and take a sip. There’s a whisper of lemon with a metallic note, but it’s blissfully nonalcoholic. I down the whole thing, then crack open the other one and hold it up to Chase’s mouth.
“Drink,” I tell him.
He takes a couple of swallows until he’s able to sit upright. Then, to my surprise, he snaps his eyes open and makes grabby hands for the smoothie Leah’s holding, then sucks that down as well. Finally, he grins. “All right! Let’s do this!”
“That’s the spirit,” Leah says. She pours my smoothie into the pot of a nearby monstera plant. “Today, before the challenge, you both get to visit the wardrobe department. Trust me, you’re going to have a lot of fun.”
—
The wardrobe department is on the third floor of the villa, and I have to admit that Leah was right—it’s significantly more impressive than the bathroom on the boat.
Chase and I are split up the moment we arrive. Leah disappears somewhere while a PA escorts Chase to a different room, and I’m left alone.
While I wait, I take the chance to explore. The room I’m in is lined with clothing racks laden with barely-there bikinis, breezy maxi dresses, floral-print casual wear, and so much more that I can’t even begin to take in. Separate racks closer to the floor house footwear—flip-flops and sandals, high-top sneakers and sleek athletic shoes, and a fortune in Louboutin heels. I run my fingertips over the heels on one rack and estimate that I’ve touched over ten thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise in ten seconds.
A blush-pink curtain divides the room, and behind it is a gold-trimmed mirror reflecting still more racks of clothing. When I turn to examine them, I’m met with heart-stoppingly beautiful gowns in an array of jewel tones. My fingers brush up against one of the ball gowns—a sparkling, dark-blue floor-length dress with a plunging neckline and an ombré of gold cascading through the skirt.
“Ah, a Tadashi Shoji,” a smooth, deep voice says behind me.
I nearly jump as I yank my hand back. “I’m sorry, I—”
I trail off as I take in the extremely hot man in front of me. He looks like he’s just stepped out of one of those cheesy, over-the-top Old Spice commercials, the kind where the camera zooms out and reveals that he’s part centaur. His wavy dark hair is long and swept back. His shirt is unbuttoned, revealing a toned, muscular chest, and his jeans are entirely too tight for the fit to be practical.
“You’ve done nothing to apologize for,” the man purrs in an Italian accent. Honestly, that’s the only way to describe it. A purr. “In fact, you must try it on.”
I’m allergic to cats , my brain supplies, unhelpfully. My brain adds, but I love them anyway. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s beautiful to the point that he doesn’t even look like he belongs on this plane of existence.
I don’t think this moment can get any more surreal, and then it does.
“Let me help you,” he says, and his hand goes to my shoulder, where he begins to slip my tank top strap off.
“Wait,” I say, backing up a step and colliding with the rack of expensive dresses. “What are you doing?”
He deftly reaches out a hand to steady me. “Apologies, I’m Matteo, the head of the wardrobe department,” he explains. “You were told I’d be here to help you, yes?”
“Oh. Oh!” I relax a very small amount as my alarm is replaced with embarrassment. Of course. That’s what’s happening. The head of the wardrobe department is helping me…wardrobe.
“I will be dressing you for your next challenge,” he says. “And so I must ask you to try on that gown. It is meant for you. Go ahead.”
Matteo steps around the curtain, leaving me alone. I carefully take the gown off the hanger and lay it down on a deep-green velvet couch in the corner. I hurriedly strip out of my clothes and slip the gown over my head. It slides on so smoothly, it feels like I’m pouring silk over my body.
But when it comes to closing the back, I quickly realize it’s impossible. The zipper is unreachable, even if I twist and stretch to try to grab it. I grunt with the effort and nearly fall over.
“Everything all right in there?” Matteo calls.
I’m being stupid. I should ask for help. He’s here to help, right? This is his job and he’s a professional. Better to ask for the help than to risk ripping this delicate gown.
“I can’t quite get the zipper up,” I admit.
“I thought that might be the case,” Matteo says with a warm chuckle. “I shall assist you.”
I hold the gown in place to keep myself covered, and he joins me behind the curtain. He places his hands on my waist and gently turns me around so he can tug the zipper up into place.
“There. A perfect fit. You are as gorgeous as I knew you’d be. You and this gown are a match made in heaven,” he says. Is this what wardrobe department heads do? Make ordinary and extremely hung over people feel like Paris Fashion Week icons for a day?
“Thanks” is all I can stammer out.
“You won’t get the full effect barefoot,” he says, dropping down on one knee and selecting a pair of Louboutins. He gently guides my bare feet into the mega-expensive emerald-studded heels.
I make my way to the mirror and all I see are dollar signs flashing like warning lights. I’ve never worn this much money before. I’m afraid to move. What if I ruin something and I have to pay for it?
“Now your hair. Let me see.” He gently pulls my hair out of the short ponytail I tied it up in when Leah came to get us. He runs his fingers through it, shaking it out. “So much shine and volume. You must wear it down,” he says. His fingers brush softly against my neck, and I feel myself blushing.
Matteo is definitely too close to me. I try to remember what makeover shows are like. Are the hosts usually this touchy-feely?
“No man will be able to resist you,” Matteo whispers in my ear.
Okay, that sounds a bit unprofessional. And also, as Cindy would point out, aggressively heteronormative.
My brain is kind of glitching, because as I look at myself in the mirror, several irrelevant thoughts spin through my head.
I’ve never worn something so expensive.
Chase would die if he saw me in this.
Daniel would die if he saw me in this.
I might die if Daniel sees me in this.
Definitely can’t limbo in this thing.
Remembering the competition jars me back to reality.
“Um, what exactly am I being styled for? Don’t get me wrong, this is gorgeous. But I think I should wear something easier to move in. Is that an option?”
“Today’s test won’t require much movement,” Matteo says vaguely. His hands are still working through my hair.
I frown. “Okay? So what is the challenge?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” he demurs.
I think back through Dante’s Inferno. First there’s Limbo, and they made us limbo. Next is the circle for lust.
There’s something about what Matteo said—he used the word test , not competition or challenge. So today we’re being tested on lust, and a sexy head of wardrobe that I’ve never seen before is suddenly putting me in a revealing ballgown and showering me with compliments?
“Ah, got it,” I say. “Thank you. I think I’m all set.”
Matteo blinks at me. “You’re ready to go so soon? Weren’t you enjoying that moment we were having?” he says, sounding nonplussed.
It might be my imagination, but he seems to have less of an Italian accent now.
“It was very nice,” I say brightly. I’m speaking in my phone voice now, suddenly keenly aware that there is definitely a camera focused on me in this dressing room. “You’re great at your job. Keep it up.”
I hike up my skirts and hurry out of the room, heart racing. As hot as Matteo is, he isn’t my type.
I collide face-first with something hard and slippery. I push away and look up, realizing that it’s not a what, it’s a who.
I’ve run into Daniel Cho, and my hands are currently resting on his bare, chiseled, oiled-up abs.
“Slayer,” he says, tilting his head. “You good?”
“Why are you so slippery?” I blurt out.
“The stylist said she was going for a casual, beach-y vibe today,” he says slowly, taking in my Disney Princess look. He clears his throat. “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but why do you look like you’re going on The Bachelor ?”
“This is what my stylist recommended,” I say dryly. Wait, was that a compliment? The girls on The Bachelor are all smoking-hot dental hygienists and marketing executives.
Daniel gives me the once-over a second time, opens his mouth, then closes it.
I can’t stand this. “What is it?” I demand.
He blinks and shakes his head. “I’m having a hard time envisioning what kind of challenge we’re going to face today if you’re dressed like that and I’m dressed like this ,” he says, gesturing to the both of us, specifically the fact that he’s in a pair of bright-red swim trunks and oiled up like a frying pan while I’m dressed for the Oscars.
Aha. So he hadn’t figured it out. I revel for a moment in having the upper hand.
“The great Midas hasn’t figured out the puzzle yet?” I taunt him, grinning.
“Puzzle? What?” His brow furrows, and I can see the gears turning in his head.
I have to keep myself from letting out a villainous laugh. I love it when he looks stumped. I spent all of high school chasing that look. Chasing the high of one-upping him, and rising to the challenge when he one-upped me.
He pushes his hair back and then snaps his fingers. “It was a seduction test, wasn’t it? I thought she was a little too handsy with the oil.”
“Bingo.” I cross my arms over my chest and attempt to lean back oh-so-casually, but the damned Louboutins are an inch higher than my highest heels, and I falter. I feel myself starting to pitch backward, but Daniel catches me, pulling me in close as he steadies me.
I’m so close to him that I can feel the heat coming off of his bare chest and even catch the scent of the coconut oil his stylist used on his abs. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, and he lets go. “New shoes.” I search for something else to say, something to cover for the fact that I nearly face-planted in front of him. My gaze falls on the tattoo on his bicep. “That’s new.”
“Oh, yeah. Got that in college.”
“What does it mean?” I ask. The dashes are too specific to be purely for aesthetic reasons.
Daniel’s mouth quirks up at the corners. “You can’t figure it out?”
I frown at him. “If you’re saying it’s a puzzle, then I’m certain I can.”
“I look forward to hearing your answer,” he says. Oh, it’s on.
I lift his arm, getting a proper look at it. He watches me with amusement as I manhandle him.
“Do you need a piece of paper? Shouldn’t you be taking notes?”
“I have a very good memory,” I snap. His tattoo is made up of four symbols, equally spaced out. Each symbol consists of a unique set of three black horizontal dashes, some with breaks in them and some without.
“Daniel, can you explain what your tattoos mean?” a familiar voice cuts in.
I whip around to see Leah, Lex, and a cameraperson. How did I not notice them standing just ten feet away, capturing this entire conversation?
Oh, right, shirtless Daniel. That’s why.
From the look on Daniel’s face, he’s caught off guard, too. I drop his arm and put some distance between us.
“What? No, keep going!” Leah looks around, her gaze calculating. “Actually, let’s get the two of you into a confession room to really hash this out.” Leah grabs the two of us, dragging us away from the “wardrobe department” and down the stairs.
Confession spots have been set up strategically around the beach, in the gardens, and in the house, so one is never far away if a producer wants to grab you and push you into baring your soul.
The closest one to us happens to be a nook set off of a hallway, in a floral alcove with an oversized, rattan egg chair planted among jacarandas bursting with purple flowers. The chair’s meant for one and a half people, but that doesn’t stop Leah from maneuvering both of us into the cozy space. It reminds me of that night so many years ago during regionals, when the two of us were lying close but not too close.
Leah claps her hands together. “I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot. It’s not every day that two cast members have history. You know, Alice, you really come alive when you’re talking to Daniel.”
“Should I take that as a good thing?” Daniel asks, grinning.
“Absolutely not,” I shoot back.
“Love this, keep up this energy.” Leah flips to a new page in her notebook. “From what I understand, the two of you are high school friends—”
“Rivals,” I correct. “We were not friends.”
“—and you’ve been reunited on this show after nearly a decade apart. What do you have to say to each other?”
“I don’t have anything to say to him,” I tell her. I know I have to stay in Leah’s good graces if I want to do well on this show, but something about this line of questioning feels slimy. There’s a narrative she’s trying to craft, and I’m not sure what it is yet.
“I’ve got all day, darling.” Leah jots something down. “Okay, let’s start with this. How do you two know each other? I want to hear the whole story. And I’m going to be honest with you. If you don’t give me something, we’ll make something up.”
“Well,” Daniel says, glancing at me. “We knew each other in high school, but we went to different schools.”
“Daniel, of course, went to a very fancy, very expensive private school known as Charles Exeter Preparatory,” I add.
“And Alice went to Eastridge High, a local public school. They came in last place every year during Quiz Bowl—”
“No, we didn’t!”
“Until Alice arrived on the scene. Suddenly, Eastridge started sweeping the competitions. By the time Eastridge faced Exeter, I’d already heard about Alice. Her reputation preceded her.”
“And you were scared shitless, right?”
Daniel looks me square in the eye. “I was impressed.”
“Damn right,” I say, grinning. I turn to face the camera. “The only thing you need to know about Daniel is that he has a tendency to lose when we go head-to-head.”
Daniel snorts. “I’d say we’re evenly matched in most things. Except athletics, where Alice comes up a bit short.”
I’m about to snap at him for crowing about his height advantage—and did he forget the time I outmaneuvered him in the sudden death round of the District Finals with my amazing powers of strategic thinking?—when Leah’s walkie-talkie comes to life with a burst of static and a sharp voice that sounds suspiciously like Dawn Taylor.
“Who’s got eyes on Daniel and Alice?”
Leah fumbles with her walkie-talkie. “I’m here with both of them, Dawn Taylor. What’s up?”
She tries to plug in her earpiece, but she isn’t quite fast enough, because when Dawn Taylor replies, we can all hear her shouting, clear as day.
“Get them to the tiki bar ASAP! And I mean now , or heads are gonna roll.”
STORY NOTES FOR EDITORS: “DAWN TAY’S INFERNO: LOVE IS HELL,” SEASON 1, EPISODE 2: LUST (CONT.)
DAWN TAYLOR, VOICEOVER: The competition heats up during the Lust Challenge!
[B-roll footage: Bacon and Firefly making out at a picnic table at twilight.]
DAWN TAYLOR, VOICEOVER: Who will stay faithful…
[Footage: Mikayla and Trevor soulfully gazing into each other’s eyes over the rainbow shots behind them.]
DAWN TAYLOR, VOICEOVER: …and who will be tempted?
[Footage: Close-up of stylist Matteo’s hands sliding down the hips of a female contestant, but the camera pulls away before her face is revealed.]
DAWN TAYLOR, VOICEOVER: And you’ll never guess the twist ending!
[Footage: Alice puts her hands on the chest of an oiled-up Daniel.]
DAWN TAYLOR, VOICEOVER: Just another day in hell on Dawn Tay’s Inferno !