Chapter Fifteen Carys
@mellytonin: as anyone made a fancam of Patrick yet?
Second most compatible couple. Well, well, well. That’s something, isn’t it?
Suck it, Dolly.
I want to rub it in her face. Your fake relationship only came third. Not as convincing as you guys think you are, clearly.
It feels so good to be right. I knew I could be better than her, and the public just proved it. Patrick and I are the real deal, and the Wedded Bliss audience can see that too.
I wonder what people like about us. We’re quite silly, a little giggly. Maybe that’s it? Our chemistry. And I know now that we look good together too.
It’s perhaps a little vain to say, but the validation that the public think we’re a good couple makes me even more excited to see him today.
Sure, it’s not quite the same as winning, but at least a couple who are in love are in first place. It would have been nice to win a date out of the warehouse, but I’ve already got a grand prize waiting for me today – Patrick.
Today, I get to kiss him. If he wants that, of course. I hope he wants to kiss me one day.
Karina and Lucas are whisked away quickly along with the camera team, and only Reb hangs back. ‘You good?’ she asks me.
I nod. ‘Great. Thank you so much for your help this morning.’
Bridget slings an arm around my neck. ‘Don’t worry, babes. I’ll look after her.’
Reb gives me a tight smile. ‘Make sure to have some breakfast. You’ve got less than an hour to get ready, or thereabouts.’ And with that, she excuses herself.
It’s so funny that they speak in time we have no way to read. Maybe neurotypical people can naturally sense it better than I can.
I’m already dressed and have absolutely no stomach for eating so I’m relieved when Bridget whisks me into our new shared room for help doing her hair.
‘I want to curl it for the special occasion,’ she giggles excitedly. ‘But I’m awful at doing the back. Will you give me a hand?’
Before I can agree, she sits down at her makeup table with her back to me, and hands me her styler.
She has one of those fancy Airwrap things that always terrify me a little because I always think about your hair getting sucked inside it and having to chop it off at the roots.
But Bridget’s a hairdresser, so she knows better than I do.
Luckily, I’ve had a lifetime of doing my sisters’ hair.
I start sectioning off her long caramel locks. In the mirror, I catch Bridget looking on approvingly, which gives me a little thrill that I’m doing it right.
‘You’re a star, babe. I can never get my arms akimbo enough to do that bit so it’s always flat as a pancake from behind, and if they’re filming from that angle when we kiss it’ll look dreadful.’
‘Oh… yeah,’ I agree, having not thought about that at all. My hair is still pulled up into a severe bun.
Reading my mind, Bridget says, ‘Babe. Are you going to keep your hair like that today?’
I glance in the mirror and the bun is so tight that it’s given me a startled look from the unnatural tilt of my eyebrows. ‘I shouldn’t.’
‘I’ll do you after, don’t worry.’ Bridget squeals and I almost drop the expensive hair whooshing contraption. ‘Oh God. I hope he’s a good kisser. He is lush.’
I realise I’m not sure who she means. I know she’s been dating a few men – Jackson, Zack, Billy too, I think – but I have no idea who she’s seeing now. She kept her cards close to her chest about who she liked most, and I’ve been too self-involved to pay attention.
That’s another thing I’ve not liked about the last few days. With all this Dolly mess, I haven’t been a good friend. I want these friendships to last, and while Dolly’s turned out not to be the person I thought she was, I think Bridget and Lina could be long term if I put the effort in.
‘Zack?’ I guess.
‘Well, yes, but I was thinking of Jackson. I’m seeing both of them today.’
‘And Zack’s not lush?’
‘He is.’
‘But not totally your type on paper.’
‘Exactly, babes.’
I drop a fresh warm curl, letting it bounce in my hand. ‘What do you like about Jackson?’
‘He’s just very smart, you know. And look, I said I’d never date another rugby boy, but he’s ex-rugby, so all the bod and none of the lifestyle.’
‘Have you dated a lot of rugby players?’
In the mirror she catches my eye. ‘Babes, I’m a little slice and I live in South Wales. What do you think?’
We both laugh, and I love the throaty sound of her big laughs.
‘I’ll have to take your word for it. I feel like I’ve been out of Wales for so long.
Things have changed and keep changing. I mean, two actors bought the local football club and now where I’d mooch round town as a teenager is all over Disney+. It’s so weird.’
‘Surely no weirder than filming a dating show for another international streaming service.’ She gives me a wink.
‘True. I think that part hasn’t hit me yet.’
‘Oh, it’s hit me like a fucking truck. Hence dragging you in here to be my lady’s maid.’ She blows air out her cheeks in one big whoosh. ‘I think this is looking good.’
‘I think we’re done,’ I say, pleased with my curling work. They’re not perfect, but they match the pattern Bridget had put into the rest of her hair without creating too much of a seam at the back.
Bridget cranes around, trying to spy the back of her head in the mirror.
I look around for a second mirror to hold up behind her, but all I have is one of the tiny circle ones for plucking your eyebrows.
I make do, and hold it up for her. ‘I knew I should have snuck in one of my big mirrors from work.’ She grunts frustratedly.
‘Oh well, I can’t see. I’ll have to trust you. Luckily, I do!’
She hops up, and doesn’t quite place a kiss on my cheek as much as kiss the air next to me, so as not to disturb our makeup.
‘Your turn.’
Bridget is so gentle at undoing my hair and brushing through it that I almost fall asleep. ‘I’m going to put some heat and product into it, give you some body,’ she says confidently, and I let her do whatever she wants to.
Bridget is beautiful, but I feel no fluttery feelings from her stroking my head. I’m not getting confused by our friendship or our closeness. I can think she’s stunning and like her a lot, without mistaking it for more.
And I thought all that about Dolly, in the beginning, before I got all tangled up in my confusion and her lies.
I just have to remind myself that this is what a normal adult female friendship is. You can be close without it being romantic.
I don’t really have any close men friends other than a few of the guys at work, and I would never be so touchy-touchy with them. So all the physical intimacy I’ve had with men has been with men I’m dating.
Maybe that’s why I got so confused with Dolly. I couldn’t separate out the crush. And given I find so much social stuff confusing, it’s no real wonder I got that all mixed up in my head.
I feel calm under her touch. You’re supposed to feel comfortable in a friendship, not nervous, and Dolly made me so nervous sometimes. Was that a red flag I missed?
Luckily, I can’t see any here. Bridget and I are close in age, but most people would think I’m younger from the way we dress.
She’s in a white tailored two-piece – a crop top paired with long flowing trousers belted with a gold buckle.
Before I got here, I thought that my mustard jumper with short sleeves tucked into a goldenrod plaid circle skirt looked quite smart, but now I’m worried it makes me look like I teach arts and crafts to forest creatures.
‘Should I ditch the tights?’ I murmur, as I look at my reflection.
Bridget scrunches up her lips as she gives me the once over. ‘No. You look like you.’
I get up and grab a very important accessory from my wardrobe. ‘Will you still say that after you help me pin this beret in place?’
She laughs and takes the matching hat from my hands. ‘Of course. He’s going to love you. I bet he already does.’
I watch as Bridget presses a few hairpins between her lips, and gently sets my beret over my hair, tilted a little way back so it doesn’t close up my face.
Even now, I’m looking at her lips and I feel nothing, even though Bridget is an objectively beautiful girl.
And sure, there’s men whose lips I could probably look at too and not feel anything, but that’s different. Being attracted to men never came with a side serving of dread that I was doing something wrong.
I guess that’s a change. The last few years, I’d have been too rattled by terror to even do that for long, too worried that I was going to get found out. Now, I feel… nothing.
That’s one thing I owe Dolly for – she’s shown me the boundaries of my own attraction to women. What I’m supposed to do with that knowledge, I don’t really know. It’s not like it’s relevant to me, especially if I want to marry Patrick, is it?
‘Why are you staring at my lips, babe?’ says Bridget.
I immediately worry that I’ve made her uncomfortable. I guess old neural pathways take longer to die. ‘I was wondering if you found a sharpener for your lip liner in the end.’
‘Oh! Yeah, my handler Ewa brought me one because they were worried about the health and safety implications of me getting infected from it. Fair enough.’ She laughs throatily again. ‘Are you excited to kiss Patrick?’
‘Yes,’ I say quickly. ‘I am.’
‘Well, you’re cute as a button. He’s going to love it.’ She shapes my beret one last time. ‘All done. Shall we mynd?’
Back in the living room, I manage to nibble down some toast and butter without getting it all over myself, and before I know it I’m back on my too-warm velvet couch, looking at the mirror barrier between mine and Patrick’s rooms.
‘Hello?’ I call, hoping to hear Patrick’s voice.
When he replies, it’s like a melody. A very Yorkshire one, but it’s music to me. ‘Morning, Carys. How are you?’
‘Good,’ I say, and I can hear the nerves in my voice. I’m going to kiss this man today. The last kisses I had were disastrous, let’s put it that way. This will be like the ultimate redo.