Alice Chen’s Reality Check

Chapter Ten Hell Is Breaking Up on Reality TV

Chapter Ten

Hell Is Breaking Up on Reality TV

The screen freezes on my face, and Leah taps on it with her emerald-green fountain pen.

The last couple hours have been a whirlwind of announcing the partner swap, doing interviews, and now having Leah drag me up to the third floor to review my subpar performance. We’re in the Video Village, where an army of PAs and editors huddle over a dizzying array of screens. Elaborate computer setups cover the rows of desks pushed together, lit overhead by sterile fluorescent lights.

The cramped room is packed with exhausted-looking people, and the recycling bin by the door is overflowing with empty cans of Red Bull. Lex and a few other members of the crew are there, presumably uploading audio or new raw footage. Someone is curled up on the floor in the back corner. THE CRYING CORNER has been written in Sharpie on a takeout menu taped to the wall.

I’m starting to feel like Leah brought me here to scare me into submission, and it’s working.

“So, Alice, do you see the problem here?” she asks, tapping the screen again.

This must be what my students feel like when I ask them to stay after class to talk about their grades. It’s not that I don’t want to be a team player, but I’m still reeling from my fiancé cheating on me five hours before. Leah rewinds the footage back to a moment when Daniel is looking at me with an affectionate smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Meanwhile, I’m staring blankly ahead like one of the fish on ice at Pacific Market.

“You might not have heard of her, but our lead editor over there”—Leah points at a slight woman massaging two fingers into her temple like she has a migraine from hell—“is Shawna Vasquez, one of the best in the biz. Shawna has all of our PAs combing through every second of footage that you’re in. They’re working around the clock to edit together something usable, and you are making it very hard for them.”

Shawna certainly seems to be proving Leah’s point. Her curly dark hair has been tied into a haphazard braid, and she wears a stormy expression on her face as she gives instructions to three PAs at once. Her stern scowl is at odds with the be happy written in retro psychedelic text on her tee.

I do a quick head count. There are about ten PAs stuffed in here, and sure enough, they’re all watching some version of me on their screens. Aside from the crew member curled up in the corner, only one other person isn’t eyeballing my face on a screen: the PA with slicked-back blond hair and sunglasses. He’s decked out in a white polo that’s open at the collar, salmon shorts, and a gold watch, and he’s lounging on a pool chair on the balcony. Everyone else may be hard at work, but he looks like a finance bro on vacation. He guffaws at something playing on his phone.

Shawna notices, and with a very impressive middle-school-teacher voice, she yells, “Anton, get back to it, or I’m gonna throw your phone off that balcony!”

Anton flips her off but reaches under his pool chair to drag out a laptop.

“I’ll do better,” I promise Leah. “But can we address why Daniel and I are labeled the ‘The Asians’?”

“Forget about that. It’s a placeholder,” Leah says. “Right, Freya?”

Freya looks up from her desk to our right. “Uh, no, I’m pretty sure that cut went out this morning—”

“Great. Thanks, Freya,” Leah says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her fingers curl like she wants to strangle someone. “We’ll update it in the next episode. How do you feel about ‘Asian Sensation’?”

“Not a fan,” I say.

“We’ll workshop it,” Leah says decisively. She lowers her voice. “Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but when Peter Dixon said our ratings were through the roof, he wasn’t just stroking his own ego. Dawn Tay’s Inferno is going to be huge. Way bigger than anyone expected. The network execs are promising to double our budget, and they’re already talking about greenlighting season two. But if you screw this up, everything can go away just like that.” She snaps her fingers. “We need you to get it together and make good television—”

“Leah, you’re scaring her,” a voice interrupts. It’s Lex, leaning back in their chair to face us. “Alice, the reason your producer is so stressed—”

“Excuse you, I am not stressed, I am thriving —”

“Yeah, and my psych prescribes me Prozac for fun,” Lex shoots back. “Look, this show has the production schedule from hell. Dixon’s pitch for Dawn Tay’s Inferno was that we’d have this cutting-edge AI editing software that lets us release episodes quickly with a skeleton crew.”

“Absolutely deranged,” Leah mutters.

“Spoiler alert, the software doesn’t work. We have some bullshit program that splices together clips into unusable content. It’s all a scam. So instead, the higher-ups are pushing our editors and production assistants to deliver episodes on par with much bigger productions like Nepo House and Babe Getaway , and it’s gone about how you’d expect. We’re crunched for time here, and Dawn Taylor wants results.”

“And we’re going to deliver them,” Leah says. “Alice. I love you. If I could just stick my hand down your throat and make you say all the right things like an adorable little puppet, I would. I don’t know if you realize this, but you’ve made a lot of enemies just by staying on the show. If the other contestants or the viewers at home can tell that you and Daniel aren’t a real couple, you’ll get booted from the show—and not even Peter Dixon can save you then.”

“Understood,” I say. Lex has gone back to their work, but I can tell they’re still listening in on my conversation with Leah. “I’ll work harder at it.”

“It’s not about working harder,” Leah says. “It’s about your chemistry with Daniel. This story we’re trying to sell, that you and Daniel just happened to make a true love connection within minutes of Chase and Selena getting hot and heavy, it’s ridiculous. It shouldn’t work. But I’ve seen you with Daniel. When the two of you are going at it, it’s like you can’t decide if you want to jump his bones or, I don’t know, challenge him to recite the periodic table.”

“I don’t want to jump his bones,” I say automatically. But I still remember the feeling of his abs beneath my hands, the warmth radiating from him, and that—that’s not helping.

“Leave room for Jesus, I don’t care,” Leah says. “But if you want to stay on the show, you have to at least look, act, and smell like a couple.”

I think of the sapphic werewolf romance Cindy convinced me to buddy read with her last year, and how the werewolf marked her human with her scent. I shake my head—that’s not what Leah is suggesting, and Daniel is not a werewolf. Get it together, Alice.

“—so this is me, warning you, as your producer. Figure out how to sell your chemistry and relationship with Daniel, or you’re out.”

“I will. I’ll do it even if it kills me.”

And it might. Even the thought of acting on some of the attraction between us—my mind helpfully rewinds back to his slicked-up abs—is enough to give me heart palpitations. But I’ve come this far, and I’m not leaving the island if I can help it. Plus, I can see how hard the editors and PAs in the Video Village are working. I don’t want to make their lives any harder.

Leah lets out a bitter laugh. “I know I’m being on tough on you, but I’m in your corner. And hey, you know how Blake and Bella were in one of the private honeymoon suites? I snagged it for you and Daniel, so the two of you can work on your connection without any cameras around. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Yes. Thank you. Amazing. Great news,” I say. My mind is a jumble, trying to reconcile the contradictory feelings of never wanting to see Daniel’s face again and being desperately curious about what he’ll be like when we’re alone.

Leah puts her hands on my shoulders, spinning me toward the door. “Daniel should be headed there already. Why don’t you go meet him?”

—

My stomach twists into knots as I make my way toward the honeymoon suite. I keep playing with my ring finger. There’s a faint tan line where I used to wear my engagement ring from Chase. I keep thinking that I’ve forgotten it or lost it, only to remember that I stashed it away in my luggage the moment I got back to the villa after everything went down.

I’m mentally drafting a Facebook Marketplace listing for all of the things I used to share with Chase that I want to sell off now—massage chair won in an office raffle, like new, fifteen knot-busting settings—when I remember that I have bigger fish to fry. I have to sell a whirlwind, fairy-tale romance with my high school nemesis to millions of viewers at home, plus my fellow competitors.

“We need to work on our chemistry,” I tell Daniel as soon as I step into the suite.

“Hello to you, too,” Daniel says, raising an eyebrow at me.

I glare at him. “Hello, darling ,” I say, “we need to work on our fake chemistry for our fake relationship so we can continue to stay on this reality show long enough to destroy the competition—which, by the way, includes our exes—and win a million dollars.”

“Sounds like a tall order.” He looks at me with an expression that I’ve never seen before. There isn’t even a hint of a smirk, and his gaze holds mine for too long.

“What are you doing?” I ask, unsettled.

“I’m working on our chemistry, dear , just like you wanted,” he says.

I groan. “This is the worst kind of group project.”

The second those words leave my mouth, my brain kicks into overdrive. Of course, this is what I’ve been missing. Ever since I caught Chase in the shed, I’ve been playing defense, simply reacting to what’s happening around me, and it’s made for some pretty bad interview footage.

If I want to make this work, I have to approach it the way I approach every important project in my life—by crafting a highly detailed plan to play up our strengths and address our weaknesses. This really is a group project, one that just so happens to involve dating Daniel. We can overcome the obstacles of faking a relationship—a lack of shared background knowledge, our nonexistent chemistry, the fact that this is all for show—if we just make a plan of attack and stick to it.

“You okay there, Slayer? You look like that time during Mock Trial when you came up with an application of the plain view doctrine at the last minute.”

“I have an idea for how we can improve our chemistry.” I pause to consider fully what he’s said. “And how do you know I came up with those arguments at the last minute?”

“You’ve got a tell.” He taps the space above his eyebrows. “You wrinkle your forehead when you’re thinking really hard. It’s cute.”

I snort.

“Anyway, I’m all ears,” he says. “Please tell me this brilliant idea of yours.”

I say, “What we need is a point-by-point plan to tackle the key facets of a relationship. If we cover all our bases, we’ll be unbeatable.”

Daniel laughs.

“You disagree?”

“It’s not that. It’s just a very Alice idea,” he says. “That’s a compliment,” he adds when I make a face at him. “It makes sense to treat this like a school project. If there’s one thing I know we can do, it’s nail an assignment.”

“Absolutely,” I say, pleased. He gets it.

“Now how are we doing this? Should we make a syllabus?” He raises an eyebrow, and I’m not sure if this is a joke or not, but I take it seriously.

“In an ideal world, yes,” I say, and he laughs. “But I don’t think we have time for that. We’ll have to settle for a big-picture plan of attack. I wish I had my laptop or my phone or even paper and a pen. Are we honestly just supposed to wait around doing nothing until they need us for filming?”

“Yeah, Selena said it would be like this,” Daniel says. “They want drama, and one good way of manufacturing drama is to make us desperate for entertainment. Either that, or they assumed that we would find other ways to keep ourselves occupied.”

I know exactly what he means. On the surface, the island is the perfect setting for romance, with its pristine beach, deep-blue ocean, and summer villa. But given that Chase and I have been sleeping on cots alongside the other contestants, I haven’t found the setting all that much of a turn-on. I guess Chase felt differently, though, considering he managed to hook up with someone else in a tiki bar shed. My heart twinges at the memory, but the pain is duller than I expected. Things have just been happening so fast that I haven’t had time to process.

“Well, that’s not happening,” I snort. “Whatever. I don’t need paper. It’ll be easy to remember. We’ve got three things we need to work on—intimacy, information, and entertainment.

I tick off the items on my fingers. “First, there’s intimacy. We must convincingly hold hands, kiss, and act like we can’t keep our hands off each other. Then there’s information. We need to know the things that people in a relationship typically know about each other. What we like, dislike, what we studied in school, our goals in life, et cetera. Finally, there’s entertainment. We’ve got to satisfy our audience and give them what they want. That means coming up with the perfect soundbites and providing romantic moments that will play well on screen. My vote is that we start out with information. Make sure we have everything we need to know about each other.”

“I think we should start with intimacy,” he counters. “People know we’re a new couple, so we can get away with not having a dedicated mental file on each other. And it’ll be easier to pull off soundbites and act like a real couple if you can touch me without acting like you want to challenge me to a duel.”

“I don’t act like that,” I grumble.

“Remember that time we got stuck eating lunch together at the science fair, and you challenged me to an arm-wrestling match?”

“It was a strategic maneuver.” I’d seen him charming the judges with his presentation on hydroponics that morning, and all I’d wanted to do was wipe that smug grin off his face. I try not to examine why that manifested in a demand to arm-wrestle. “Anyway, what about you? Can you even stand to touch me ?”

Daniel doesn’t answer. Instead, he steps into my space, close enough that I catch the scent of coconut from his sunblock. He lifts his hand, and I find myself tracking the movement, waiting to see what he’ll do next. He brushes my cheek with the lightest of touches, and my pulse immediately ratchets up. I step back, my foot bumping into the bed behind us.

He smirks. “You were saying?”

Well, I walked right into that one. Point to Daniel.

“Okay, fine. We’ll work on intimacy first,” I concede.

“So how do you propose we do that?”

“You know the idea that taking small, harmless doses of poisons like iocaine powder can build up a tolerance to the lethal amounts?”

“Overlooking the fact that referencing the fictional science in The Princess Bride undermines your point, yes, I’m familiar with the idea. So like this?” He holds out his hand to me, his palm up.

I look at the lines and calluses that make up the landscape of his hand, the slight bend of his fingers.

“Well?” he asks.

Oh, right. I reach out my hand and tap my fingertips against his.

The feeling is electric, like when you’re jumping on a trampoline and the static builds up, and the second you touch something, you get a tiny jolt. But I think it’s just me. Daniel doesn’t react—if anything, he’s stone still. His skin is warm and rougher than I expected, and there’s a small scar by his thumb. It’s faded, like an old scar, but clearly deep enough to have left a mark.

I slide my fingers down his until my hand is fully resting on his. We’re standing so close together that I can hear him breathe and see every flicker of his dark-brown eyes. I work to keep my own breathing regular as my heart thuds loudly in my chest.

“I think we’ve mastered handholding,” I say lightly.

“There are probably some other things we should practice too,” Daniel says. “If you think you can handle it.”

“I can handle anything you throw at me,” I say immediately.

He moves closer, taking my other hand in his, and I realize what’s happening. We’re playing a game of chicken, and whoever backs down loses.

I refuse to lose.

I free one of my hands to run my fingers through his hair, brushing it back. It isn’t until I’m doing it that I realize I’ve always wanted to try this. His hair is so soft, even with the hint of product in it, and I resist the urge to muss it all up like he’s my pet dog. I make eye contact with him, and is it my imagination, or does he look like he’s trying a little too hard not to react?

In retaliation, he brings his thumb up and brushes it against my lips, and it takes everything I have in me not to shiver at his touch. Typical Daniel—of course he’s good at this. But I can be, too.

I lean in just a little bit. Daniel’s other hand skims down my shoulder, landing on my waist and pulling me in, so that we’re flush against each other. My breath hitches, but I get it under control and place my hand on his chest. He dips his head, his lips coming so close to mine that I can feel his breath on my face.

In for a dime, in for a whole fucking dollar.

I close that last fraction of an inch between us to press our lips together. His mouth is warm and soft against mine, and it’s fine. Nice, even. I could do this in front of a camera , I think, and I’m congratulating myself right up until Daniel tilts his head, parting his lips so that his tongue nudges mine open. A thrill races up my spine as I sink into the delicious heat of it, and I can’t help letting out a small moan, my arms wrapping more firmly around him. There’s no space between us now, and his hand slides along my back, sending another surge of heat through me.

I could do this forever , I think dizzily as the kiss deepens. My grip tightens in his hair, and I feel a shudder run through him. I want —but I don’t let myself finish that thought. I break away. Daniel doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him. This is all pretend, and even if it feels good—too good—I can’t get carried away. Eyes on the prize, I remind myself.

“I win,” I say in the thick silence building between us.

“You win? You backed off first,” he says, and is it just me, or does he sound breathless?

“But I initiated the kiss!”

“Oh, come on. That’s not how this works. The first person to swerve loses.”

“What happens if no one swerves?”

Daniel chuckles. “I think in this case, both of us win.” He cuts a look at me, raising an eyebrow. “If you know what I mean.”

“Very funny,” I say, rolling my eyes. I try not to think about what exactly that would be like with Daniel. The way his body would feel moving against mine. “Anyway, I think we’ve made excellent progress. Kissing you was entirely bearable.”

“Gee, thanks.” Daniel folds his arms and looks at me, his eyes sharp. I recognize that expression. It’s the same one he wore when he was about to point out an inconsistency in my argument during Speech and Debate. “Alice, if we’re going to do this, I have to know something. Why do you want to stay in the game so badly? You said you don’t back down from a challenge, but this isn’t Quiz Bowl. It’s a reality dating show. I don’t even know why you’re here at all. This isn’t exactly your scene.”

“Oh, and it’s yours?”

“No, but it’s Selena’s. She asked me to come on the show with her, and I thought it’d be fun. But I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. You’re not.”

“Maybe I’ve changed,” I say.

“Not this much,” Daniel says. “If you’re here, there’s a very good reason for it. You don’t do things on a whim. And now we’re faking a relationship. I need to know why you’re willing to go this far to stay on the show.”

He’s right. I live for my routines and my to-do lists. I’m a math teacher at an underfunded public school. I call my mom every week, and crocheting at home while watching Bridgerton is my idea of a perfect Friday night. I’m not the type of person who drops everything to go on a reality dating show for fun.

But I can’t tell Daniel about my mother’s illness. After all:

This is my Achilles’ heel. My mother has always been my weak spot, and I can’t stand being vulnerable. It’d be like pointing out exactly where to find the gap in my armor.

I’ve barely talked to anyone about my mother’s diagnosis. Chase knows that she’s dealing with some type of cancer and Cindy knows she’s dealing with a “health problem,” but I haven’t even told either of them that it’s stage 4 metastatic breast cancer.

I’m pretty sure if I start to talk about this with anyone, much less Daniel Cho, I’ll start crying. And the last thing I need right now is for him to see me in tears.

I know that I won’t be able to get away with a lie. I decide on a partial truth.

“I need the money,” I say finally. “I’m drowning in student loans.”

Daniel drops onto the floor. He looks up at me, his gaze searching my face for a moment. He nods. “Okay.”

“It’s a long shot, but believe me when I say the money would be life-changing for me. So, please, we’ve got to be in this to win.”

Daniel gives me a cocky half smile. “Alice, you should know by now that I always play to win.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I join him on the floor, bumping my shoulder against his. “And why are you still here? Your ex has someone else to compete with.”

Daniel shrugs. “I still have a week of PTO left. And you challenged me. I don’t back down from a challenge, especially when it’s from you.”

“Uh-huh. Now if only I could trust my sworn enemy to have my back,” I muse, eyeing him.

“You know, I don’t recall becoming sworn enemies,” Daniel says, tilting his head.

“It’s implied. There isn’t exactly a ceremony for it,” I say, waving my hand like I’m starring in The Princess Diaries.

He laughs and catches my hand in his, turning my gesture into a handshake. “Alice Chen, I swear upon my honor that for the duration of this competition, I will have your back. I won’t betray, sabotage, or malign you in any way. We’re together till the end.”

“Same,” I say, but when Daniel raises an eyebrow at me, I add, “I swear, Daniel Cho, that for the duration of this competition, I’ll have your back. I won’t betray, sabotage, or malign you. Well, I might malign you a little, but only if you deserve it.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Daniel says solemnly, and drops my hand.

We spend the rest of the night sitting across from each other on the floor, exchanging facts about our lives. I find out that his birthday is on New Year’s Eve. He learns that when I was a kid, I had a pet goldfish named Miss Puppy because I’d actually wanted a dog. His favorite cartoon as a kid was Jackie Chan Adventures , while mine was Avatar: The Last Airbender. His first charity event in law school was a 5K run, and that turned into a real love for running and hiking. I only run under duress, but love playing badminton. He’s part of a remote D&D group consisting of his college roommates, and I watch K-dramas with Cindy, Tara, and my mom.

Weirdly, I find myself having fun. It’s nice, being on the same team as someone who gets me. Chase never understood my competitive side, and I did my best to tamp it down when I was with him. He liked getting along with people. I liked crushing my opponents at board games and dominating at bar trivia.

But Daniel is just as competitive as me, and as the hours pass, we keep trying to one-up each other with facts we remember about each other and, at one point, a very spirited arm-wrestling match. In another life, I can see how Daniel and I could’ve been friends. Maybe we can still be friends.

Finally, as midnight approaches, I find myself yawning, which sets Daniel off yawning, too.

I stretch and climb to my feet. “I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get some rest. We need to be in top condition for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late. But we still need to discuss something.”

“What?” I ask.

“There’s only one bed, Slayer.” He waves his hand at the center of the room, where there’s a plush-looking bed, decorated with fluffy, heart-shaped pillows and a bedspread the blush-pink color of Valentine’s Day bedding at Target.

Oh my god.

Of course there’s only one bed. Leah did say that this was one of the villa’s honeymoon suites.

“I’ll take the floor,” he says generously. Oh, hell no.

“First of all, Daniel ,” I say, “I’m just as capable of taking the floor as you are. Secondly, I don’t see any reason why we can’t both sleep in the same bed. It’s huge.”

“What if we can’t keep our hands off each other, and we lose ourselves to the throes of passion?” Daniel says. “I mean, after that kiss—” He fans himself, and I snatch up a pillow to chuck at him. He dodges, laughing.

“You know, even with your hot new haircut and a tattoo, I think I can control myself,” I say primly.

Daniel falls silent for a moment, and then simply says, “Tattoos.”

“What?”

“Tattoos. Plural. I have two.” Daniel shrugs. “Seems like something my very-not-fake girlfriend should know about me.”

“Wait, where’s the other one?” I ask.

He turns his body, angling so that I can see the back of his leg. The tattoo on his leg is tiny, small enough that I didn’t notice it before. It’s a frog wearing a jaunty little hat. A laugh bursts out of me.

“Okay, now that I’ve seen this little guy, I’ll definitely be able to control myself in bed,” I say.

“Hey!” Daniel protests, looking offended.

I plunge on. “Also, if anyone bursts into our room for whatever reason, it’s going to look really suspicious if one of us is on the floor.”

“Point taken.” Daniel pauses. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Why are you being so weird about this?”

He looks in me in the eye. “Alice, we may be fake dating, but I’d like us to be real with each other in private. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I snort. “I’ll be plenty comfortable. Have you seen the thread count on these sheets?”

With that sorted, we take turns in the bathroom. I rush through my skincare routine, brush my teeth, and hurriedly change into my pajamas. By the time we both settle into bed, I’ve built a pillow wall between us with all the heart-shaped pillows.

“There,” I say, patting the pillows. “That should do it.”

“Very nice, Slayer. No one will doubt we’re a couple now,” Daniel says, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, there’s a rising body of evidence that suggests that couples who sleep in separate beds are happier.”

Daniel flops down onto the bed. “I’ll be sure to cite that during our next confessional when the producers ask how it’s going.”

“Please do,” I say. “Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with laughter in his voice.

I roll over, turning my back to him. The bed is as soft as a cloud, and the cool sheets are smooth against my skin. As I close my eyes, shutting out the shaft of moonlight streaming in, the sensation of Daniel’s lips on mine lingers. I hug one of the pillows tight and do my best to focus on falling asleep and absolutely nothing—and no one—else.

From : Peter Dixon ([email protected])

To : DTI Production Team ([email protected])

CC : Shawna Vasquez ([email protected])

Re: Memo from Peter Dixon

Hey folks,

Thanks to Shawna for flagging this. Please pay attention to the notes below. Today’s episode got a little graphic. We need a trigger warning for anyone with a sensitivity to vomiting, gross stuff, food, etc.

—PD

Begin Forwarded Message:

Production Notes for Editors: “Dawn Tay’s Inferno: Love Is Hell,” Season 1, Episode 3: Gluttony

Content Warning needed before episode. Language can read: “This episode contains graphic depictions of vomiting.”

Word choice? Mention bodily fluids, food sensitivity, or other related topics? LK please advise.

Make sure any scenes are tastefully blurred before airing.