Chapter 17 #2
“That’s private information. Not a story to share with the others or to sell to some reporter,” she says, freezing me with an icy glare.
Ah, the ice queen I met that first day has returned.
But that’s not who she is. No matter how good she is at pretending.
“I haven’t said anything. And I won’t,” I promise.
Does she really think I would? Did our time at the shelter not show her who I really am? I thought we were beyond these types of questions and assumptions.
Guess you were wrong.
“We both know your track record with talking to reporters. The fact that at least two women in this house have your autograph tattooed on their inner thighs is proof enough that I needed to cover my fucking bases.”
Each word is a direct hit. Exactly what she intended them to be.
A pit opens up in my gut. “Whether you believe me or not, I won’t say anything.” I wouldn’t do that to her.
She nods once. “Good.”
“Anything else?” I ask, torn between irritation, embarrassment, and desire for this woman.
The hot-and-cold thing is getting old.
But that pull between us is still so damn strong. The electricity traveling back and forth, even when we aren’t touching.
Which is also irritating.
And if she really thinks I’m the kind of person who would use the information she shared with me, then maybe it is time to send her home.
I need a clear head.
And that’s impossible with Sydney around. When she’s near, she’s all I can think about.
“No.” She turns, heading for the door. Her shoulders are tense, her body losing its natural rhythm.
As if, in this moment, she knows I’ve decided to say goodbye to her.
At the door, she looks back, her attention dropping to my towel, then moving up my chest and settling on my face.
“Sorry to interrupt your shower.”
Amusement floods me. No she’s not. “You could always join me while I finish up.”
The second the words are out, I know they were a mistake. Where the fuck did that come from?
Blood races to my dick in a hardening rush at the thought of her joining me in that big shower.
Her responding laugh is sultry. A sound that makes me think she’s going to take me up on my invitation.
Instead, she yanks the door open and steps out. “In your dreams, Darby.”
Yeah, in my dreams. Where she’s been night after night. With me in that shower and in my bed.
And yet again, I’m back to considering who I should send home.
★★★
The women all look beautiful in the strategic lighting for the compass ceremony.
“Cy, have you made your decision?” Roman asks, clapping my shoulder with a heavy hand.
Internally, I wince. That fucking move is getting old.
Only the discipline I’ve gained through years of acting saves me from breaking the shot. While I’d like to glower at him, I keep smiling softly, my focus staying on the women.
“I have.”
It may have taken all afternoon to decide, but it’s done.
I home in on Sydney, whose eyes widen when they clash with mine.
“I’ll let you get to it,” Roman says, stepping back against the wall.
I have to force myself to continue to scan the women, making eye contact with each of them before beginning.
“Jade,” I say first. She would look beautiful on the red carpet at a movie premiere or awards show.
She steps forward, one thigh almost completely exposed by the long slit in her dress, a smirk tilting her lips.
“Jade, will you continue the search for love with me?” I keep my words quiet, fully aware that the cameras and microphones in the rooms will pick them all up.
“I will.” She nods and accepts the compass I hold out to her, her fingers brushing mine.
She’s an attractive woman. But when we touch, there isn’t even the smallest spark.
It’s what you want, right? No sparks.
It takes effort not to look at Sydney again, but I manage to keep my focus on Jade as she moves back to her spot.
I don’t want sparks.
I don’t need the complication.
Jade is attractive. Sure, I’m attracted to her.
But I have complete control of those feelings.
It’s the same for Simone. For Brielle.
Controllable attraction.
Kendall is attractive too, but she also adds entertainment value to the show. And she’s made it abundantly clear that she would be willing to do more if I give the signal.
If only the offer really tempted me.
But she isn’t the woman occupying my dreams.
This time I can’t stop myself from looking at Sydney.
She looks calm. Resigned. Though she isn’t fully present, her focus fixed on something no one else can see.
Like she knows I’m not going to pick her.
Is that what she wants?
“Josie.”
I swear Sydney sighs, her shoulders sagging.
Shit. Maybe she wants the out.
I only devote half my attention to the compass ceremony. The other half is firmly locked on Sydney. Every few seconds, I sneak a peek, watching for some sign that she wants to be here.
Yet she doesn’t give me what I want. That should be a relief.
Right?
Roman steps forward gesturing to the last remaining compass. “It’s your last compass tonight, Cy. When you’re ready.”
While I want to make a snarky comment, I stay in my role. Thank you, Captain Obvious.
I look at both Sydney and Cassidy. The two stand side by side, a detail I hadn’t noticed until now.
Cassidy sends me a soft smile. She’s hopeful, sweet, waiting for me to call her name. To ask her to keep searching for love with me.
The kind of woman my mother would love for me to bring home.
Sydney looks everywhere but at me. Like she could take or leave this whole thing. After a moment, her gaze lands on me, but it skitters away again quickly. She’s tense, wary. Like she’s in survival mode.
It would be easier if I cut ties with her now.
Before I’m in too deep.
“Sydney.”
If I weren’t watching so closely, I would have missed the way she twitches as she realizes I’ve said her name. Her eyes find mine once more, a little less guarded and very surprised.
There you are.
A few heartbeats pass before she glides toward me. She’s wearing a one-shouldered plum colored dress, the smooth skin on display beckoning to me. What would that skin taste like under my lips? Warm? Sweet and spicy like her lips?
Focus, dumbass.
She stops in front of me, the smallest of creases between her brows. Like she can’t quite understand why I called her name.
Again.
“Sydney, will you continue the search for love with me?” I ask.
She nods, reaching out to take the compass from me.
I pull it back, just out of reach. “I want your words, BB.”
I want her body more, but her words will do. For now.
She doesn’t react to the nickname. Or when several of the women snicker behind her.
Their reaction pulls me out of the bubble the two of us always seem to find ourselves in. How is it that when I talk to her, the rest of the world fades?
“Sydney, will you continue this search for love with me?” I repeat.
“I will,” she says.
She wants to roll her eyes. That slight current in her tone gives her away.
This time I deliberately skate my fingers over hers as I pass the compass, and when an electric current zips along my arm, I relish the sensation.
You’re playing with fire.
I’ve never minded the heat.
And Sydney is all inferno. She’s the reward I’ve earned for agreeing to this show and for playing along.
What about your movie?
Okay, maybe I get two rewards. Swallowing this bullshit should justify that many at a minimum.
Hiding under the satisfaction is a guilty sensation that kicks me in the stomach. Because she’s looking for something more, and I most certainly am not.
I drop my hand and clear my throat. I shouldn’t yank her along like this. She wouldn’t be here if she weren’t looking to fall in love. Even if she is prickly. It’s a defense mechanism. One she has perfected since her world was shattered at such a young age.
She doesn’t need you.
And it will hurt in the long run. I have no future with her.
Or with any one of these women.
We stand frozen in some sort of spell. It’s only broken when the two of us do this weird joint nodding thing. Then she retreats, carefully returning to her spot.
I shift my focus to Cassidy, whose sad eyes and tremulous smile compound my guilt.
I don’t want to hurt anyone.
Right. So that’s why you plan on breaking up with the “winner”?
That’s different. That, I hope, will be a mutual decision. But each one of these ceremonies forces me to hurt yet another person.
My stomach churns and I swallow.
“Cassidy, I’m s—”
“Cut!” That single word from Julian, the director, breaks the scene. “Sydney, what the hell was that?”
She bristles like a porcupine and turns to him.
I have to bite my lips to hide the smile. God, this should be fucking good.
“Excuse me?” she asks.
“Have you not been paying attention? When Cy gave all the other women their compasses, they hugged him in return. Or kissed him on the cheek. What in the world was this?” He mimics our weird joint head dip.
She braces a hand on her cocked hip, her fingers drawing my attention. They rest against the deep purple fabric, making my own fingers itch to run along the silk there.
The glare she gives him is withering. Though she’s working to keep her thoughts to herself, the struggle is visible on her face.
Open up, BB. Hit ’em with your best shot.
“Fuck it.” She turns to him fully.
Suddenly, I’m craving popcorn.
“Where in the nonexistent contract I didn’t sign does it say that I’m required to do either of those things? Last time I checked, women had autonomy. We have the freedom to do or not do anything we want when it comes to relationships. With consent, of course.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to touch Cy?” Kendall asks.
Oh shit.
Sydney spins around to face her. “Whether I do or don’t is nobody’s business but mine—and his.” She points to me, including me like an afterthought.
“If you want to keep your life so private, why did you come on this show?” Jade chimes in.
I step around the small table the compasses were laid out on in case I need to intervene. I should know better, though, than to think Sydney would need help.
“Why don’t you focus on your own relationships with Cy and leave mine alone?”
“Oh, I think Cy and I have done a lot of ‘focusing.’ Wouldn’t you say, Cy?” Kendall shoots me a wink, and every eye in the room shifts to me.
Fuck.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sydney asks.
Suddenly, I regret my decision to keep Kendall for another week. The smirk on her face is downright malicious.
“A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Sydney rolls her eyes. “If you see one, maybe send her my way. You obviously have something to say, or you would have kept your mouth shut.”
A flush creeps into Kendall’s cheeks, her eyes narrowing.
Slowly, she lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “I’ll just say that Cy is really good with his mouth. And his hands. If you know what I mean.”
My gut plummets. Double fuck.
Yeah, I kissed her. Production encourages it, really.
To draw the viewers in. I kissed her once before too.
The first night before I ran into Sydney on the terrace.
And again after the stolen moments we shared the night we snuck out.
I needed to confirm that the shift in my universe wasn’t just her.
Except the kiss with Kendall in the in-home theater did the opposite.
It only proved that a kiss from anyone else would always fall flat in comparison to the one I shared with Sydney at the animal shelter.
Yet Kendall is acting as if we went farther than that. Why?
I look from her to Sydney again and get my answer.
The surprise on Sydney’s face is gone in a heartbeat, each brick in her wall re-cemented in the length of time it takes me to draw a full breath. With every brick, another emotion shutters. When she’s finished, all that remains is anger and ice.
Back to square one. Maybe farther.
“That’s—”
Before I can call Kendall out for lying, Mara steps into the room. “What’s going on? The cars are here. We need to get to the airport.”
The moment the director stepped in, I forgot about anything but Sydney and the way she’s now looking at me.
Cassidy is still here, standing in place awkwardly. I’m supposed to walk her out to her car.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I’m such an asshole. I completely overlooked her.
“Cassidy, why are you still here?” Mara looks from her to the director and then to me.
“I wanted to reset Sydney’s acceptance of the compass,” the director declares.
Sydney huffs. “Not—”
I hold up a hand. “No. It’s fine the way it is. I won’t force her to do anything she doesn’t want to do.”
They accept my declaration without further argument. All the while, Sydney is watching me. I smile softly, hoping she’ll return the expression. If anything, her glare hardens.
Great. Just fucking wonderful.