14. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Teddy
A nother morning, another full schedule of dates.
During this phase of the ‘experience,’ the dudes go on second dates with the women that they had mutual interest in to see if there’s enough between them to merit exchanging scent cards.
Since the main point of me being on the show is to have as much screen time as possible while looking like an absolute snack—I agree to go on all of my second dates; six out of a possible eight. Not too bad, if I do say so myself.
And I do.
I hit the gym, shower, order a tray of the power protein breakfast to my little temporary bachelor pad—and contemplate the fact that I may have already spent my last evening in isolation from the other dudes.
If I end up agreeing to meet the rest of my prospective pack or packs after the scent card exchange, I’ll likely end up spending most of my time in whichever pack common rooms I gain access to.
Since I’m not actually here under the pretense of finding my ‘forever’---I’m less daunted by the potential chemistry between me and my potential packmates, I’m excited about what kind of fun stuff will be loaded into the ‘man caves’ for each group. In previous seasons, they had shit like pool tables, jacuzzis, private bars and all kinds of gaming setups.
I’ve been getting pretty bored in between all of this conversation with no action —even if I’m almost positive that a few of the women I’m talking to are probably mega babes. Won’t do me any good until we get to the reveal and that vacation in the tropics, baby. Assuming that I can get one of these chicks to carry me that far without realizing my real reason for being here.
I’m ready for some hangouts with the ‘boys ’ even if it’s just to get someone to spot me on my bench pressing. I’ve been getting rusty since coming here, I swear—even though it’s only been a few days.
First date of the day down. Roxy, the acrobat and exotic entertainer, asked me to exchange scent cards within two minutes of the start of our date. Not like I’m exactly surprised, we’re both gym rats with attitude—and of all the girls I’ve talked to in here, Roxy is the only one who feels like she’s both super cool and fun to hang out with and who is also totally hot-girl-coded. Plus, she swings both ways apparently—maybe I can swing a threesome at some point before this show is over. The only thing better than one hot girl—is two or more hot girls.
Brittney, my second date of the day, is also definitely hot-girl-coded. Hell, not coded . She’s all but told me that she’s an absolute smoke show in person. Influencer, model—talks about how she goes out with her girls to all the clubs and bars. She knows she looks good—she just hasn’t given me the details on camera. Of course I also opted to exchange scent cards with her—there wasn’t a choice really.
Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.
Maybe, if I play my cards right, I can convince Roxy and Brittney to turn me into a Teddy sandwich.
Suzi, Jesse, and Kara totally give off Minion vibes. All three of them are clearly so far up Brittney’s ass that they wouldn’t actually match with me if she’s got any real interest—so I bite the bullet and end those fledgling relationships, declining their requests to exchange scent cards later this evening.
There’s a lot of crying and sniffling and dabbing of eyes on their part, but for me—I give all three girls the same variation on my canned ‘ It’s not you, it’s me,’ spiel that I give with every one of my breakups. It’s early yet, and I know that they have other dates to exchange cards with—they’ll get over it.
Then there’s the matter of Ursula.
I was so worked up at the prospect that I might have nothing going for me besides my looks—that I went hard into the paint securing my second date with her today. It would be shitty and cliche of me to dump her just so that I could be the one doing the dumping… But she’s kind of a wild card. Definitely interesting, absolutely challenges me—which is something I would be looking for in a real partner, but I’m not here to find a real partner. I’m here for the promo.
Not to mention, I have no idea whether she’s a babe or what. She could be an absolute stone fox—or she could be frumpy and kind of meh . Brainy chicks can be like that.
I grab a sandwich and a bag of chips on my way to my date with Ursula. I still don’t know what I’m gonna do about scent cards with her…but it will probably get easier if I’m not trying to decide on an empty stomach—am I right?
“Hey Teddy,” Ursula’s voice greets me, cool and collected, from her side of the wall as I enter my ‘bubble’.
“Hey—” I stop myself short of saying ‘gorgeous’ after our last conversation. “How’s my favorite sea witch?” I joke warmly, dropping onto the couch with my lunch.
If my ears don’t deceive me—this actually causes her to outright groan.
“You okay?” I call through the wall, unwrapping my italian sandwich from its wax paper wrapping.
“I should have said something yesterday…but I really don’t love the whole Little Mermaid reference thing,” she sighs.
I roll my eyes. C’mon, everyone knows the octopus lady! I’m just trying to be friendly…
“Oh, my B,” I apologize half heartedly, chomping down into my sandwich.
There’s an awkward silence that follows. I do my best to swallow down the huge bite of cold cuts, shredded lettuce and Italian bread so that I can make another appeal to Ursula’s good graces when she begins to speak—cold, clear, and with a distinct air of disinterest.
“I was going to tell you some pretty personal stuff today if we were thinking that we might be exchanging scent cards Teddy, but I think that maybe—maybe you and I are better off as uh…” She takes a poignant pause, searching for the most diplomatic word she can, before finally setting on, “ Friends .” She attempts to unload me gracefully.
“Woah, woah, woah, Princess !” I interject, setting my sandwich down on the couch cushion beside me to better focus on the conversation at hand.
“Princess?” she scoffs.
“Yeah– Princess.” I really drop the p-word on her, because it’s proven—all chicks fuckin’ love being called princess. “I feel like you’ve been ready to get rid of me from the word go—just because I’m a little bit of a dumb jock and that’s obviously not your type .” I turn the tables on her.
“Wha– No, I just–” she stammers, clearly unprepared for me to keep my grip on her.
“Admit it, Princess, you’re afraid of saying ‘yes’ to me because you think that I’m just some big dumb hunk of muscle and that you’re going to be able to run circles around me intellectually.” I grab my sandwich and scarf another too-large bite, pleased that I’ve got her on the ropes. I’ll defs get another scent card outta this one, improving my chances to make it to the next round—where the real money shots of me shirtless on the beach— surrounded by hotties; are bound to put Teddy Wong stocks on the rise.
“Pfft!” Ursula blows a raspberry of exhaustion, breaking my stride before I can really seal the deal. “Absolutely not!” she protests as I prepare to shove the rest of the sandwich into my mouth.
“Ok, so why do you always give me such a hard time? Is it like a little kid on the playground pulling the girl he likes pigtails or some shit? Because you can just say you like-like me already, babygirl.” I assure her before jamming the tail end of the grinder in my face.
“You wanna know why I give you such a hard time, Teddy?” she winds up, and I kick back—licking the last of the oil and vinegar from my sandwich off of my fingers before I crack into my bag of chips; waiting to hear her confess how smitten she is with me. To listen as she breaks down and admits that she hasn’t stopped thinking about how hot I might be after we talked yesterday.
“Lay it on me, Princess.” I knit my fingers and tuck my laced hands behind my head—ready to bask in the glory.
“Most of the time, you seem pretty shallow, dude. There was a little glimmer of hope yesterday that you might actually be hiding a decent guy beneath the exterior of gym routines and pickup-artist-cringe, but right now I’m just getting pure, smarmy asshole and I’m just so not down for that. Sorry.”
Her words are like a punch to the gut.
I have absolutely zero right to be upset by the things that she’s said, considering I am literally on this show for the sole purpose of improving my brand and Hollywood career prospects…still, her scathing evaluation of me fucking stings, bro.
For a fraction of a second, I contemplate rolling over like I should. Just—giving up the ghost with a half-hearted denial or even just silence—letting Ursula walk right out that door.
Instead, for some wild fucking reason, I decide to double down—to fight for this totally fake-for-tv-romance.
“What could I do that would change your mind?” I ask with as much sensitivity as I can muster.
“For starters—tell me something about yourself that’s real . Not your workout stuff or what you do on the weekends when you party. What were you like as a kid? Who are the people you would call up first if you did end up deciding to bite-in to a pack at the end of this whole experience? What about me, other than the fact that you don’t like hearing the word ‘no’ makes you interested in exchanging scent cards?” she blurts out, one after another, like machine gun fire.
I may have misjudged the difficulty level of this exercise.
Again, I am reminded of my mother. What would she say if she saw me making such a ready buffoon of myself? I don’t even want to think about what Ma would do. She’d probably twist my ear right off the side of my head and ban me from family meals for the next two holidays—a fate worse than death in the Wong household.
“Ok, those are all fair questions—but there’s a bunch of em’ so sit tight and I’ll start breaking it down,” I begin to lay my foundation.
“I’m all ears,” she confirms nonchalantly, opening the floor for me.
“So, number one. As a kid I was an absolute goddamn’ menace,” I begin—a genuine grin spreading across my face. “I have two Moms—Lindsay, my ‘Mother’ and Mei, my ‘Ma’. They own a combination dance studio and karate dojo in a strip mall in Bakersfield, California.” I announce proudly. “Between both types of classes, I had a lot of opportunities to get my ya-yas out… and yet I still would be bouncing off the walls all through dinner, bathtime, bedtime.”
I’m gratified to hear the little laugh that escapes Ursula. I don’t know why she’s enjoying these absolutely cringe facts from my childhood—but hey, if it’s playing well with her…maybe it won’t totally ruin my rep to drop all these embarrassing facts.
Or, more likely, this conversation will end up on the cutting room floor after edits. Too boring—not enough drama or spice.
“I actually liked dancing more than Uechi, Tae Kwon Do, and Kenpo—but when I started going to castings, I got cast for the martial arts stuff—not the dance stuff.”
“Ballet?” Ursula interjects, obviously curious.
“Yep, I wanted to dance Sigfried in Swan Lake so fucking bad dude—I would have probably sold both my kidneys on the black market to do the original Nureyev choreo for Romeo and Juliet.” I let that little tidbit slip—something I’ve never even told Ma, my ballet teacher and closest confidant.
“Wow! That’s incredible—are there any recordings of you in ballet productions that have survived the move from VHS to digital?” Ursula angles.
Yes. I’m so totally in .
“Oh absolutely, both my moms were totally rabid about recording literally everything I did from birth to when I moved out at 18, since I’m an only child. Ma digitized everything and uploaded it to NuToob back when I had to start making my first portfolios and demo reels,” I assure her before adding casually, “ When we get back from our little getaway I’ll show you the NuToob page she’s set up as a dumping ground and you can watch whatever you want, Princess.”
“Hmmm, I could be persuaded,” Ursula tries to play it cool, but I can hear the chuckle that builds at the end of her response.
“As for the people I’m gonna call,” I dangle the future definitive in front of her intentionally a moment before adding, “Obviously my moms, they’re number one. After them? Probably Dom and Meesh, then Pol,” I count off my fingers, listing my three closest friends.
“You said you’re an only child, so I’m guessing that Dom, Meesh, and Pol are friends?” she ventures cautiously.
“Meesh is actually my cousin. Short for Michelle. She teaches at the dance studio now. Dom, short for Dominique, has been one of my best friends since we were like six or something. Her mom had signed her up for tap classes, but she kept sneaking over to Judo classes as soon as her mom would leave. Now Dom helps teach at the dojo. She's also in charge of running all the tournament stuff since I skipped town to go do movie stuff,” I sigh, a pang of yearning for two of my closest friends taking me unexpectedly off guard. “Pol didn’t actually ever take a single class, they just loitered around the waiting room reading all the magazines left out for the parents and playing gameboy. Later on, in high school, they would graduate to hitting on all the moms, watching and waiting for their kids to get out of ballet, tap, tae-kwon-do, or judo. As soon as the girls and I would get outta class—we’d go upstairs to my family’s apartment and watch TV until the last 39 bus would run, then they would have to go home,” I explained.
“Ah, so—they’re your chosen family,” Ursula hums appreciatively.
The thought strikes me with a surprising impact. I might have opted to call them my ‘best friends’ a moment ago, but Ursula is right. They are so much more than that. We’ve continued to choose each other—year after year. No matter how much age, or distance, or work has tried to get in the way.
“Yeah, it kinda sucks that I can’t talk to them right now—when I could probably really benefit from some solid advice,” I admit ruefully. “But—soon enough I’ll get to talk to ‘em, and—I mean obviously anyone I would be serious about would have to get along with Meesh, Dom, and Pol too.”
“I get that, really I do,” Ursula assures me. “I’m like that with my chosen family—even more so than my blood family maybe. If one of my parents or my brothers had beef with my prospective packmates—it could probably be something I worked around… but with my bestie and her pack? It would probably be a deal-breaker if they hated any of the guys I brought around.”
Here we go, back on solid ground and talking about the hypothetical future. Time to bring it on home.
“I think that kind of stuff is what I like about you, Princess. You’re focused on the connection—the real deal . I think that I have trouble doing that kind of stuff because…” I pause, not entirely sure where I’m going with this. Part of it is a lie for the camera, but part of it is true. I do like that when I talk to Ursula we’re talking about real shit. I haven’t talked about my moms or any of that other personal stuff with the other girls…but I’m not really here because I’m looking for my Princess or any of these other girls. I’m looking for success. The kind of success that Rudy’s picked up.
The kind of success that would let me send my moms big enough checks so that they wouldn’t have to worry about losing the studio or the dojo… or their home. If I really did good, I might even be able to afford to get them into a real house. Some nice ranch—all one level so that Ma doesn’t have to keep doing a two story walkup to get to her bedroom when her knees have been shot since I hit puberty.
“How’s that for real talk?” I crumple my wax paper sandwich wrapper and shoot it into the wastebasket on the far side of the room.
Nothing but bin.
“Teddy…I gotta admit. You are just chock-full-o-surprises,” Ursula laughs.
I still got it. Thank fuckin’ god, dude.
“Can I tell you a secret Teddy?” she begins again, her voice ever so slightly unsure.
“Of course you can, Princess.” I give a smug smirk, doing my best to tear open my packet of barbeque chips as silently as possible.
“I didn’t really think that I was going to end up having to have the talk with you about the whole scent card thing,” she confesses.
“Because you thought I was shallow?” I float the question, pinning her to her previous accusation.
“Yes,” she sighs.
I have to respect that she doesn’t try to slither out of her earlier indictment of my character now that I’ve been given a chance to show a bit more beneath the surface.
“And what do you mean ‘the talk’?” I circle back, unrelenting.
“Well, for starters—we haven’t talked about interpack dynamics or sexuality, like at all,” she ventures cautiously.
This is a surprise. I haven’t really talked with anyone else in the ‘bubbles’ about it—besides Roxy’s casual mentions of having sex with other women.
“Oh I mean, I’m straight so like…unless you were thinking about other chicks…” I trail off, immediately regretting using the term ‘chicks’ out loud. It’s like I can hear my Ma yelling at me.
“That’s fine—I’m not looking for you to be one way or another. Just like—I guess how would you feel if other members of the pack are going to be…um intimate with one another in addition to being intimate with me?” She clears her throat before and after the doozy of a question.
For whatever reason, I haven’t ever really even thought about the possibility until now. Between all the pornography I have consumed, all of the rom-coms my moms have made me watch, and all my own fantasies shall we say; my brain has never bothered to explore this avenue. Despite the fact that I have no idea what Ursula, or my fellow packmates might look like; my mind’s eye readily supplies silhouetted bodies—an erotic tangle of limbs and mouths in a darkened room.
I’m surprised by the searing heat that tears through me, starting deep in my gut. I have to clear my throat to keep my voice from cracking as I hurry to answer.
“Yeah, nah—sure I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with, I’ve been through a heat with multiple alphas to one omega before; they can get pretty wild—but like…yeah I’m straight—” I cut myself off, doing my best to streamline my response.
“Cool, so actually great segue…” Ursula laughs nervously. “While you may have gone through a heat before…not like I can tell you super specifics before we exchange scent cards and talk designation…but…I haven’t gone through one myself.”
I’m sorry. What the actual fuck? How is that even possible? I know that I can’t ask about her designation since it’s technically against the rules—but I had been under the impression that omegas and sigmas had to go into heat. You could technically suppress the heat indefinitely with the help of meds, but since both omegas and sigmas were literally developed as super-breeders; bolsters to our failing population numbers—they would suffer severely for that kind of continued denial.
My silence continues out of my pure shock rather than my worry that I might bungle my response. Thankfully, Ursula seems to assume that I’m otherwise speechless and quickly steps in to salvage the conversation she seems to think is spiraling.
“I mean, I’m not a virgin- virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she explains hurriedly. “I’ve never taken a knot though,” she discloses reluctantly—and I’m a little embarrassed by how my body instantly reacts to the idea of knotting this smartass omega for her first time.
Fuck . I’m gonna get hard just thinking about it.
I should probably say something supportive, or at bare minimum something that doesn’t come off as stupid horny as I am right this second.
“Uh,” Is all I manage though, my brain struggling to get my mouth to catch up.
I’m floundering—mouth clamped shut so another idiotic ‘um’ or ‘ah,’ doesn’t escape me as I struggle to get my brain to focus on anything other than the fact I’m already at half mast.
“Teddy? You still over there?” she ventures with an exasperated sigh, the confirmation that I’ve been too quiet for too long after her disclosure.
“Yeah! Yeah, I’m here—I just was a little surprised and didn’t want to say the wrong thing just because I’m not exactly good at improvising the ‘right’ things to say.” I’m being earnest, even if I am omitting a few details .
“That’s fair. I don’t know if there even is a ‘right’ thing to say here.” Ursula’s laugh is thin, too breathy. I know that she’s trying to comfort me, but there absolutely are wrong things to say here—and I’m going to have to tread carefully, lest my perfectly toned ass end up stepping on a landmine while navigating this tricky topic.
“It doesn’t bother me—that it will be your first heat,” I say without thinking about how decisive those words are. It will be… all but a guarantee.
“Really? I guess I really have to check myself when making assumptions about you… I would have thought that you wouldn’t have wanted to waste your time with someone so inexperienced,” she admits sheepishly.
This one is a double-edged blade. I’m cut first by the wound to my pride—that she had sniffed out my superficial nature to some degree, but my shame cuts deeper. That Ursula is so ready to fall on her own sword about her largely correct snap judgements about me.
For a fraction of a second, I consider how badly I’m leading Ursula on. Unlike Brittney and, to a lesser extent, Roxy—women who seem to know exactly what they’re getting into with a professional fuckboy like me; Ursula seems to think there’s something more to me—that there might be a future between the man that I’m making her think that I am and her ideal pack.
Then reality, with its cold cynicism, pipes back up. This is a reality dating show. The most ‘real’ part of it is the money I can stand to make if I play my cards right and lay the groundwork for the Teddy Wong ‘brand’ or whatever the fuck it is Len is always talking about. This isn’t real life, it’s just for show.
The rent raise on the studio/dojo and its dingy apartment, my childhood home? That’s real life. My career having the chance to be more than a few limited run spots and barely credited stunt work? That’s not bullshit. So, I’ll continue to play for my supper.
“So, you still wanna exchange scent cards with this meat head?” I purr mischievously.
“Yeah, I do,” Ursula answers right away, adding on a laugh, “If you end up not gagging on it. I’m unbelievably curious about how you and the other guys are gonna get along.”
“Honestly, I’m actually really ready for some time with the boys ,” I admit, a little surprised by the truth in my words.
“Well, depending on how many matches you end up with—you’ll have plenty of dudes to hang with,” she floats the statement casually, but I didn’t miss her coy fishing there.
“Mmmhmm. I’ll get to see who sucks the worst at Ovelook. I’m not biting into a pack if one of my brothers is a pleb Akuma main.” I slither out of a real answer with video game talk, typically impenetrable for the ladies.
“Spoken by someone who can’t fuckin’ snipe, no doubt,” Ursula laughs coldly.
What? A chick who doesn’t hate video games. I know they exist—but aren’t they typically wife’d up like—ASAP? The mysteries with this Ursula persist.
“Yeah? What are you a Clemency main? You’re practically screaming ‘ healer angel lady ’ right now,” I scoff. Of course—she’s gotta just play the healer chick.
“ Putrid Possum ,” Ursula sneers haughtily.
The big steampunk mad max guy with a unicycle instead of legs!? Is she for real?
“Sometimes Yorrick , if I’m feeling nasty.”
The cyborg polar bear!? Ok, shit maybe I’m the one who’s been judging my date incorrectly this whole time.
“Ok, alright Ursula—I see you,” I laugh, truly at ease and enjoying myself for the first time during any of my dates.
“I’m really looking forward to tonight, Teddy,” she gushes happily, a pang of guilt taking the shine off of the moment.
“Me too,” I agree, confusion rolling in like a thick fog—so that I can no longer tell how disingenuous my eager words are or aren’t.