Chapter Ten
I can totally do this! I can’t even remember why I was doubting myself, because I’m feeling great about it all now.
Maybe it’s the way Isa is looking at me as we dance, or maybe it’s the music vibrating in my bones, or maybe it’s the four glasses of highly alcoholic punch that the producers put out for us—whatever it is, I’m on top of the world.
We are in the Arts & Rec cabin, which, in the pulsating strobe of a disco light, doesn’t look so decrepit. The tables and chairs have been pushed to the side to create a makeshift dance floor, and the campers are acting like it’s the hottest club in town.
Isa leans in, cupping my chin with his hand. “Mira qué guapa,” he says. Whatever it means, it sounds sexy as hell. I press myself up against him and—oop! I spill my punch. Better get a refill.
I walk away, swaying my hips from side to side to give him the best view of my ass in the tight red dress that I borrowed from Harmony.
I look good. I know by the way Isa’s eyes bugged out when I emerged from the Bunkhouse, freshly made up, blown out, and dressed like I was going somewhere with bottle service and VIP seating instead of a dingy log cabin across the dusty field.
I’m sloshing punch into my cup—why is this spoon so big, and my cup so small?—when Tyler sidles up out of nowhere.
“Cleoooo,” he says. “How’re you doing?” He pushes his hair back with both hands. Is he a bit rat-like? Or is it the punch?
“I’m great!” I yell over the music. “Great party!”
Tyler nods. “How’re things going with Isa?”
“Great!” I scan the party, looking for Harmony or someone to come rescue me.
“Glad to hear it. You’re a hot couple,” he says with a grin that is reading pervy, but maybe it’s the punch.
“You’re not worried about this situation at all, are you?
” He nods toward the corner, where Isa is now sharing a beanbag chair with Sue-Ellen.
She’s talking animatedly and he’s looking at her like she’s the most fascinating creature he’s ever seen.
I clench my jaw. “He’s just being friendly.”
“You’re probably right,” Tyler says. “She’s into him, though. She told me.”
“She did?”
“She thinks he would have picked her if Garrett hadn’t got to go first.”
If there weren’t a life-changing amount of money on the line, I’d let her have him, but I’m not going to let that snaky bitch come between me and my prize.
“If I were you,” he says, leaning close enough that I can feel his hot breath on my face, “I’d get in his ear, make a convincing argument for why he should stick with you.”
I know it’s Tyler’s job to create drama, and I know I should rise above it. Nobody likes a drama queen. But why is Isa looking at Sue-Ellen like that? Every second he spends with her is a step further away from winning. I need to get in there.
I walk over, carefully putting one foot in front of the other. “Hey,” I say to them. They don’t look up. “Hey!” I say, louder this time.
“Hi Cleo,” Sue-Ellen says in a singsong voice. She’s so goddamn smug.
“Isa, can I pull you for a chat?”
Isa glances at Sue-Ellen, and she rolls her eyes. He nods and hoists himself up.
I take his hand. “Come on, let’s go to the beach.”
The night air is cool and sobering. We walk silently down the beach path and take a seat at one of the logs by the fire pit. He puts his arm around my shoulders, and I lean my head against his.
“So, how’s your night going?” I ask.
“It’s a good night,” he says, nodding. “Maybe I drank a bit too much punch, but I’m feeling good.”
“That’s good.” I pause, waiting for him to ask how my night is going, but he doesn’t. “I’m not having the best night, to be honest.”
“No? Why?”
I square my shoulders toward the camera directly across from us. “I’m just feeling a bit uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable?” he says, slurring the syllables. “Why?”
“No, never mind.” It can’t seem like I’m purposely causing drama, so I have to play this right. “It’s just…”
“What is it? You can tell me.”
I sigh. “It’s Sue-Ellen. I don’t think she likes me,” I say in my Sad Girl voice.
“Why wouldn’t she like you? She doesn’t even know you.”
“I know, but I’m just getting a vibe from her. Like maybe she’s jealous, or something?”
He shrugs. “Girls are crazy sometimes, no?”
I imagine women across the country yelling at the TV, but I don’t react to this asinine comment. “You don’t think she’s jealous that you chose me and not her?”
Another shrug. “She was already chosen.”
“So you would have chosen her if Garrett hadn’t?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. It is impossible to know because it didn’t happen.”
I have no choice but to pull out the big guns. “It’s just—” I turn my body toward his and run my hand up his thigh. “I just feel this crazy connection with you,” I say, teasing one finger under the hem of his shorts. “Do you feel the same way?”
He watches my hand as I trace a line up and down his thigh, going a tiny bit higher each time. “Uh-huh, yes, I feel it.” His voice is low and breathy.
“Maybe I’d feel better if you kissed me.”
I don’t need to ask twice. Isa immediately turns and pulls my face into his.
Our teeth collide, but it doesn’t slow him down.
He darts his tongue in and out of my mouth as his hands run down my back straight to my ass.
Oh god, this is awful. If there were no cameras around I’d shove him off of me, but instead I moan, which emboldens him to start pulling up my dress.
That’s enough. I break away from him, resisting the urge to swat his hands away. Instead, I pull my dress down, waving a finger at him. “Naughty, naughty,” I say, wiping my mouth. I’m disgusted, but it was worth it to secure myself as his number one.
“I can’t help it, you’re so—” He leans in to kiss me again, but we’re interrupted.
“Ahem.”
Sue-Ellen is standing over us, one eyebrow raised. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, shooting daggers at me, “but I was just hoping, Isa, that we could finish our conversation from earlier?”
Fucking Sue-Ellen. I lean in close and gently nip his earlobe.
He sucks in a sharp breath. “And we can continue this later,” I whisper.
I stand, theatrically smoothing down my hair and fixing my clothes, so there’s no doubt in Sue-Ellen’s mind what we’ve been up to.
“He’s all yours.” I feel her scowl at my back as I walk away.
In the darkness of the beach path, I’m unsure of my footing, making me feel even more drunk than I actually am. I pause, willing my eyes to adjust to the dim light, and that’s when I hear a voice in the woods.
“We can’t adjust the production schedule again,” the voice says. It’s a man’s voice. Familiar.
I squint, trying to find the source of the voice, and through the trees I can pick out his shape. The swoop of hair, the pointy goatee, the skinny jeans. The glow of a cell phone.
Tyler.
I hold my breath, craning my neck to hear more.
“The network won’t…exhausted all fundraising options…Natasha said she…”
What? What did Natasha say? I take a step closer, and as I do, my foot lands on a stick, cracking it in half. The sound rings out like a shot, and Tyler’s head snaps up. “Who’s there?” he calls.
I duck. Shit.
“Hello?” he calls again. After a moment of silence, the low mumble of his voice resumes. I crab-walk for a few feet, and then I burst into a sprint the rest of the way.
I don’t know why I don’t want him to see me. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. I could have just apologized for the interruption and carried on. But he so obviously didn’t want to be seen, and I didn’t want to ruin his illusion of privacy.
Or maybe it’s just the punch.