Rebel Hearts

5. Aiden

5

AIDEN

N olan glared up at me from the ground, and I swallowed.

“I am so fucking sorry,” I told him. “Really. It was a total accident, I didn’t even realize you were—”

“Just—don’t.” Nolan pushed onto his hands and knees, then bent over to inspect his cake, which looked sort of like if the Leaning Tower of Pisa had finally collapsed, its tiers sliding across the floor in a flood of frosting and sugar bits.

I’d completely ruined it.

“But I—”

“Don’t,” Nolan snapped. The anger in his voice was enough to make me step back.

I wasn’t afraid of Nolan doing something to me physically—he put way too much of a premium on being prim and proper, from what I could tell, and we were on camera anyway. But still, it seemed prudent to put some space between us.

I’d thought I’d made him mad before, but I’d had no idea. That was a candle. The ire rolling off him now was a bonfire.

“I’m just trying to apologize,” I said, words spilling out of my mouth. “To explain. I was just in the back, trying to see if there was anything I could use to salvage my cake—if it’s any consolation, mine looks even worse than yours and it didn’t even fall on the floor—and I just didn’t see you when I was walking past and I—”

“I said stop it ,” Nolan hissed. “Goddammit, you can’t even do that right, can you?”

“I didn’t mean to…” I trailed off. It was hard to talk with Nolan’s eyes pinning me down. I swallowed again.

He looked back at the remains of his cake. He’d really done a number on it when he fell. Or, well, I had. Because it was definitely my fault. There was no way around that.

“Well, you got what you wanted.” His voice was bitter.

“What?” The question was out of my mouth before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to be talking.

“You found a way to make sure I ended up in the bottom three again. Maybe I should say congratulations. You managed to exceed my already extremely low expectations. Kind of impressive.”

“But it wasn’t on purpose!”

Nolan barked a laugh. “Sure.”

“No, really. It wasn’t. I just didn’t see you, and I was in such a rush that—” I cut myself off. I hated how desperate I sounded. Like I was pleading with him to like me.

I’d promised myself years ago I’d never beg for that.

“It was an accident, I swear,” I said faintly.

It was almost comical, how badly I’d fucked up. Everything that could have possibly gone wrong with my own bake, had, and on top of that, I’d managed to screw up someone else’s, too? And not just anyone’s, but the person who already hated me most on the show?

Little bits of sugar sculpture decorated Nolan’s hair like shattered glass, and there was frosting smeared right where his ear met his neck. In another world—one where he didn’t hate me—I would have volunteered to clean him up with my mouth. The thought of offering to do that now sent me over the edge, a panicked giggle rising from my throat.

“Are you laughing ?” Nolan asked, incredulous.

He looked even more offended now, which I hadn’t realized was possible. But then again, with the way my day was going, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I looked around. Of course, there were cameras on us. Just to make this even more ridiculous.

“I’m not laughing at you ,” I said, trying to stop the tears that were leaking from the corners of my eyes. It was a laugh of desperation. I sounded completely unhinged, but I was helpless against it. “I’m laughing at me . I’ve done everything wrong today, and I can’t—can’t believe I—God, I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to—”

“Save it for the confessional.” Nolan sounded disgusted. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He began to pick up pieces of his cake, throwing them back onto the board in wet handfuls. I knelt down next to him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered. I didn’t know it was possible to pack so much fury into such a soft sound.

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I think you’ve done more than enough.”

“But I—”

“Aiden, I am this close to losing control,” he hissed. “And since I don’t think either one of us wants you to get punched on camera, I would really recommend you getting away from me. Now.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. The tears that had welled up with my laughter were turning into tears of frustration. But there was nothing I could do. If Nolan wouldn’t even let me help him clean up, I had to accept that.

It was a subdued end to the challenge. I explained to the judges that what had happened was my fault, not Nolan’s, and they said they’d take it into account with their deliberations, but they couldn’t ignore the fact that he had nothing to present to them.

Nolan didn’t disagree with them. Didn’t tell them that wasn’t fair. When Tanner told him that it was important to always be aware of what was going on around you in a kitchen, Nolan stiffened, but he didn’t object.

I didn’t understand how he could be so calm. I would have been bubbling over with excuses if roles had been reversed. Or at least trying to make jokes about it, to get them to laugh. But Nolan barely spoke at all, not even to throw me—deservedly—under the bus.

Not that I needed any help there. My baking accomplished that on its own. Apparently, I’d not only forgotten to add egg whites to the batter for the top tier of my cake, but the bottom two tiers had egg shells in them. That earned me a lecture about kitchen safety and taking things more seriously.

I couldn’t seem to get anything right with baking. No matter how much I tried to rehearse the ingredients and amounts, I couldn’t keep them straight in my head. My brain was just no good at that sort of thing. I’d been sure that I could manage the minimum I needed to scrape through, but I was beginning to see how naive I had been.

“I just think this whole thing was a mistake,” I told my brother Gabe that Thursday night.

I’d met him and Brooklyn, his husband, at a little cafe a few blocks from the Wisteria Inn. The summer air hung thick and sweet around us now that dusk had settled over the island. Across the street, kids played in a baseball field, chasing after fireflies. The scent of jasmine and salt drifted past us on the breeze.

It felt good to get away from the inn and the world of the show, even if it was only for an evening. I’d barely seen Nolan since the disaster in the tent on Monday, and I was giving myself an ulcer, wondering if I’d run into him every time I turned a corner up on the third floor.

“What are you talking about?” Gabe said, reaching forward to steal a French fry from me. “You can totally do this.”

“Can I, though?” I swirled a fry around my plate, carving ancient runes into a puddle of ketchup. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m getting worse with each week, not better.”

“It’s only been two weeks, though,” Brooklyn said, leaning back in his chair on the other side of the table. “That’s not enough data to see a pattern, much less draw a conclusion.”

“It is when you’re terrible enough,” I said darkly. “The whole point was to hang on long enough to make an impression on viewers. But at the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky if I even make it through to next week. Maybe I should just quit while I’m ahead. Or, well, behind. Go back to LA before the coffee shop refuses to give me any more shifts.”

Gabe’s face went from gently encouraging to gently understanding, which was way, way worse. It always made me feel like I was about eight years old and being a crybaby about something. The fact that I basically was being a crybaby right now was beside the point.

“You’re absolutely committed to being in LA?” he said.

I sighed. “Gabe.”

“I know, I know.” He held his hands up. “You want to be an actor, you’re determined to make it. I know that’s how you feel. I was just wondering if maybe you’d…consider reconsidering.”

“What exactly am I supposed to reconsider? What do you want me to do, just give up and go home to Mom and Dad?”

“God no.” He shuddered.

“Good. For a second I thought you were even crazier than I am.”

Gabe laughed. “Trust me, I would never suggest that. I just meant…well, you could stay here, couldn’t you?”

“Here?”

My eyes took in the scene around us—the cobblestoned streets, the two-hundred-year-old buildings, everything painted a pretty pastel. Old-fashioned, fake gaslight-style street lamps spread golden pools of light over the petunias that spilled out of the sidewalk cafe’s planters. Above it all, some kind of shorebird cried a clear, keening note.

“What’s so bad about here?” Gabe asked.

“It’s just so—” I broke off. I didn’t want to sound like I was shitting on his life here with Brooklyn. They’d both chosen to move to Summersea. They were happy.

“Boring?” Brooklyn offered, raising an eyebrow.

“Small,” I countered.

Gabe snorted. “That means boring, in Aiden-speak.”

“It’s nice,” I said. “I don’t mean that I don’t like it here. But it’s just, when I left Mom and Dad’s house, I promised myself I’d never end up somewhere that claustrophobic and backwards ever again.”

“It’s not that bad here,” Gabe said.

“I’m sorry, were you not listening when I told you about that crazy guy I met on the ferry?” I asked. “The one who told me I was going to hell for being gay?”

“We don’t even know if he was local,” Gabe objected. “And he’s just one guy. Besides, you were kind of baiting him.”

“I was not!”

“So you just had to write about getting rawed by your beer-drinking, golf-watching stepdad and his poker buddies while this guy was sitting right next to you?”

“Okay, first of all, Stepdad Greg prefers hard cider to beer, and he watches NASCAR, not golf.”

“My mistake.”

“And second of all, no one made that guy look.” I made a face. “Anyway, I don’t think this is a conversation I want to have with my brother.”

“Oh, now you have boundaries.” Gabe chuckled. “You didn’t have any before, when you were giving me passwords to your porn accounts.”

“I was doing that out of brotherly love, out of my concern that you should be able to fully explore your sexuality and blossom into your truest self.” I gave him a dirty look. “You’re just trying to make fun of me.”

He grinned. “Maybe. But you can’t do anything about it. You still owe me—owe us —for putting our marriage all over the internet without our knowledge. Which means I get to make fun of you, and whatever you put on the internet about yourself , for, oh, let’s just say the rest of your life.”

“Keep it up, and I’ll start telling all my subscribers I have a stepbrother fantasy too,” I threatened.

Gabe’s eyes widened. “Eww. You wouldn’t.”

“You have no idea the depths to which I will sink if it means making you deeply, deeply uncomfortable,” I said with a grin.

“Lovely and definitely-not-weird as this conversation is,” Brooklyn broke in, “I don’t actually think you’re going to be sent home any time soon, Aiden.” He’d pulled his phone out while Gabe and I were arguing and was staring at his screen. “Have you seen what people are saying about you online?”

“Uh, yeah?” I nodded. “They all think I crashed into Nolan on purpose and should be sent home for trying to sabotage him. Everyone’s saying I should never have been cast in the first place!”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Gabe said.

“No, it is.” I shuddered. “Trust me, I’m too much of a narcissist not to look myself up online. The worst part is, they’re right.”

“But I thought you bumped into him by accident?”

“I did.” I rested my elbows on the tabletop and let my chin sink into my hands. “I swear to God, I did. I’m not actually coordinated enough to do something like that on purpose. I just meant that they’re right that I shouldn’t be on the show.”

I grabbed another fry and chewed on it disconsolately.

“Oh, come on. Where’s that overweening self-confidence I know and hate?” Gabe asked.

“Sunken in and burned, like all my cakes.”

“Well, get it back. I don’t know what to do with you when you’re sad and thoughtful. It’s weird.” Gabe cocked his head to the side. “Anyway, they cast you for a reason.”

“They cast me because I lied and said I knew how to bake.”

“Yeah, but hundreds of other people told them the same thing. And they picked you.”

“I bet they’re regretting that decision now. I don’t even think Tanner likes me, and he’s the gay judge. If I don’t have him in my corner, what hope do I have?”

Brooklyn’s head snapped up, and Gabe stared at me, wide-eyed.

“What?” I looked between the two of them in confusion. “What did I do?”

“When you say Tanner ,” Gabe said slowly, “are you talking about Tanner Carmichael?”

“Um. Yes? Should I…not be?”

“ He’s involved with the show?” Brooklyn said.

“Yeah. Have you not been watching?”

“We, uh—that is, we wanted to, but, well—”

“It’s on the DVR,” Gabe said. “We’ll catch up. I promise.”

“Okay, but doesn’t it say Tanner’s name in whatever reviews you’ve been reading?” I nodded at Brooklyn’s phone.

“I’ve just been skimming for your name,” Brooklyn said. “Apparently I shouldn’t have been. I had no idea he was one of the judges.”

“Well, he is. But I still don’t understand why it matters.”

Gabe shook his head and pointed between himself and Brooklyn. “Tanner Carmichael is the reason we got married. He was the one who made that bet. Didn’t I tell you that, back when it happened?”

“Wait, are you serious?”

Brooklyn nodded. “He’s my friend Jesse’s ex. He’s—God, he’s got his fingers in a lot of different things, but somehow, I hadn’t realized he was connected to A Piece of Cake . Though, come to think of it, he did say something about wanting to film here, ages ago.”

“I’m positive I told you about him,” Gabe said. “Did his name not ring any bells when you saw it?”

I shrugged. “Not really. Maybe you did tell me, but you know what my brain’s like.” I sighed. “He’s one of the executive producers for the show. His signing on was one of the reasons they were even able to have a Season 13.” I paused. “Should I be worried?”

Gabe grimaced. “I mean…no? I don’t think so. Ultimately, I think he’s harmless. Just very bitter.”

“And petty,” Brooklyn put in. “But as long as you’re not trying to date him, I think you’re probably fine.”

“Trust me, I’m not trying to date anybody on that show. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be around long enough. There’s no way I’m not going home after what happened on Monday.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Brooklyn said, looking back at his phone. “All of the reviews I’ve seen are talking about your confrontation with Nolan. And for the record, at least some people seem to think that he deserved it and needed to be taken down a peg or two.”

That, I supposed, I agreed with. The asshole hadn’t even let me apologize. But still, I could admit when I was in the wrong. To myself, at least.

“Believe me, I wouldn’t mind if Nolan had fucked up of his own accord,” I said. “But I don’t want it to be my fault.”

“But like you said, it’s good TV, right? And hey, maybe we could help you with your baking stuff in the meantime. What’s next week’s challenge?”

“We find out tomorrow,” I said. “Right after we find out who goes home. But technically, we’re not supposed to get outside help once we’re on the show. We can use books and the internet and stuff, but we can’t have people coach us.”

“Well, that sucks.”

Gabe laughed. “Yeah, but I guess it’s only fair to the other contestants who don’t have their brother, and their brother’s super-hot husband, around to provide support.”

“Super-hot, huh?” Brooklyn grinned.

Gabe wiggled his eyebrows. “I call it like I see it.”

Something in my heart constricted when Brooklyn leaned over to kiss my brother. They were so cute together it actually hurt. And Gabe was right. Brooklyn was super-hot.

I understood why Gabe had fallen for him—and he hadn’t even hooked up with a guy before he met Brooklyn. I didn’t begrudge him his happiness. I didn’t.

I just hated when I got maudlin like this. I tried so hard not to want a relationship, not to want something so completely out of reach. I didn’t want someone else, or the lack of someone else, to be able to control my happiness.

I wasn’t the kind of guy people fell for. I was short, and not all that smart, and, let’s be honest, kind of annoying. I was cute, but that was really my only virtue. Every guy I’d ever hooked up with had realized that eventually and moved on.

I tried not to let it bother me. But ever since my brother and my best friend had both found these perfect guys, I couldn’t help feeling a little lonely.

So when I got home from dinner, I did what I always did when I was overwhelmed by unpleasant feelings: pushed them down and ignored them in favor of a quick dopamine hit instead.

I waved to Deacon, one of the annoyingly attractive owners of the Wisteria—another cute gay couple just rubbing their love in my face—and went up to my room, already planning out the video I was going to make.

Five minutes later, I was lying on my side, leg up in the air, sliding a black silicone dildo with a wickedly large head into my hole, recording it with my phone and streaming it live to my CamFans account.

“Fuck, Daddy, I wish this were your cock right now,” I moaned, biting my lip as I pulled the toy out, feeling my hole slowly stretch around the bulbous head. “If you weren’t away for work right now, I’d sneak into your workshop and tell you I had a nightmare and couldn’t sleep. You’d be annoyed at first, but when you saw how upset I was, you’d set down the fishing lure you were working on and pull me into a hug.”

I pulled the dildo all the way out, then squeezed my hole open and shut a few times for the camera. A little trickle of lube dripped down onto my thigh as I brought my hand to my cock.

“You’d feel how hard I was when you pressed your body to mine. You’d feel my lips on your neck, soft and wet and begging for comfort. You’d know it was wrong. I’m only eighteen, and you’re my stepdad. You’d try to stop yourself from feeling this way—but when I clutched your cock and asked you to make me feel warm again, you wouldn’t be able to say no.”

I grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some into my hands, slicking the toy up even more. I could see a steady stream of comments from my subscribers popping up on my screen, but my phone was just far enough away that I couldn’t make out the words. Some people were just sending long strings of heart or eggplant emojis, though, which was clear enough.

“You’d lay me down on the floor of your workshop and tell me you’d keep me safe. You’d brush my cock with your hand, tentatively at first, like you weren’t sure if I’d let you. But you’d feel the precum leaking from the tip, and you’d know I wanted this, too.”

I moved the dildo back between my legs and shifted, making sure the camera had a good angle for the insertion.

“And when you pulled my pajama pants down and slid your finger back to my tight little hole, it would slip inside, so wet and easily, already lubed up and loosened for you. You’d ask me if I was playing with myself again, remind me that you told me not to do that, and I’d want to lie and tell you that I’d been a good boy, but I wouldn’t be able to.”

I let my breath hitch, saying the next bit in a soft, needy voice.

“I’d tell you that I’d touched myself, and when you asked me what I thought about when I put my fingers inside myself, I’d confess that I thought about you. That I knew it was wicked, but I couldn’t help myself. That’s dangerous, you’d tell me. That’s how boys like you get hurt. We have to stop you from having these thoughts. And I’d tell you I was sorry, that I’d be a good boy, that I’d stop, but you’d say you couldn’t trust me anymore.”

I licked my lips as I put the tip of the dildo against my entrance.

“And then you’d spread my legs and bring your big cock right up to my hole. You’d tell me that this might hurt, but I needed to learn a lesson I wouldn’t forget. And you’d shove your cock in, hard and fast, all the way to the hilt, but it wouldn’t hurt me at all. I’d just want more.”

I slid the dildo inside me, all in one go. I gasped involuntarily, then whined on purpose, like the toy was too big for me. In truth, it was on the large side, and I probably should have taken more time to warm up before I began shooting, but hey, it added verisimilitude, right?

I panted as I slid the dildo in and out. Some videos, I liked to really draw it out, but tonight, I just wanted to come. I needed that rush, that release, and the peace that came after. So I set a hard pace, my right hand teasing the tip of my cock as my left controlled the dildo, and soon enough, I was on the edge of an orgasm. I looked back at the camera, summoning tears to my eyes.

“You’d fuck me hard and fast, angry at yourself for wanting me this badly, angry at me for tempting you. You’d tell yourself this was the last time, that you’d never touch me again after tonight. I’d moan underneath you, but soon you’d realize that I wasn’t moaning in pain—I was moaning in pleasure. That I was loving every second of your big cock rearranging my guts. You’d be so angry that I wasn’t learning my lesson, that I was still your insatiable little cockslut. But as I begged and whined for you to fill me up, to give me your seed, your anger would disappear, and you’d know that I needed you, that I needed something only you could give.”

I was so close. I bit down on a groan as I thrust the dildo harder inside me. I didn’t want to wake up the entire inn, but I was seconds from coming.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” I whined, letting my eyes close, letting myself go completely. “Breed my hole. Make me yours. Please, Daddy, I need—I’m so—fuck, I’m gonna come—gonna—fuck me, Daddy, please, fuck me harder!”

I came in a rush, spurting down onto the towel I’d laid underneath me. My breath was ragged, my heart racing as I stroked myself through the end of my orgasm. God, that had felt good. I could take or leave the Daddy fantasy, but I was always going to be a fan of having something in my ass.

With a sigh, I opened my eyes and smiled, dazed, into the camera. I slid the dildo out of my ass with a soft little moan. Then I reached for my phone.

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, giving the camera a shy smile before finally turning it off.

I had a slew of comments and messages to check, but honestly, I was too tired to deal with them right now. Too tired to do much of anything except crawl into bed and go to sleep. For the first time in days, I wasn’t even thinking about tomorrow and the results of the voting.

Nolan’s face did come to mind as I drifted off, but in my imagination, he was smiling. There was something wrong about that, but my mind couldn’t quite focus enough to figure out what it was. Nolan smiling. It was a nice idea.

Sleep pulled me under.

I woke up the next morning feeling more rested than I had since arriving on Summersea. My room was kind of a mess, and I’d neglected to charge my phone, but those were tiny problems compared to the good mood a full night’s sleep had brought me. I didn’t even feel that guilty about the cum-filled towel I was tossing into the laundry. At least it was better than cum-soaked sheets, right?

I wasn’t even that worried about the results of the voting. Or, at least, I was getting better at not thinking about it as I threw on a tight, baby-blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans that hugged my ass. If I went home today, I was going to go home looking good. It wasn’t until I grabbed my phone on my way out the door that I came crashing back down to reality.

Not about the show, but about, well, my little show, the one I’d put on last night. I hadn’t bothered to read any of the CamFans messages that had come in the night before. They were mostly harmless, but my heart sank when I saw that I had a new one from HungTopXL.

@HungTopXL: I told you that you were just a hole to be used—glad to see you agree. I knew you’d like being punished like the whore you are. Just wait until I find you in real life. I’ll fuck you raw, with just spit for lube, until you beg me to stop. I won’t though. I’ll keep going until I’ve filled your cunt and broken you down. You know you’d like that. Can’t wait to see you act it out in your next video.

Jesus Christ. It was six forty-five in the morning. The human brain wasn’t meant to read messages like that before coffee. Or possibly ever.

I leaned back against the wall in the hallway, feeling sick to my stomach. Did this guy really think I was agreeing with him? And cribbing from his messages to make my videos? I scrolled up through the most recent ones he’d sent me, that queasy feeling growing.

I supposed that text post I’d written on the ferry was a little questionable, now that I thought about it. And last night’s video…I’d tried to make it clear that I—or the fake, eighteen-year-old version of me I pretended to be, anyway—was into the whole scenario I was spinning. That I wasn’t actually looking for pain. But maybe that hadn’t come across clearly.

I felt so stupid. I’d thought I was doing what people wanted. And most of my subscribers did seem to like it. But no one else sent me messages like this. No one else said they were going to find me in real life.

Did I have any right to be upset by HungTopXL’s messages, though, when I’d basically brought them on myself?

I’d just have to make sure that all the videos I made from here on out were one hundred percent vanilla. Maybe he’d get bored and move on. I hadn’t responded to him for over a week now. At some point, he’d have to get the message and give up, right?

I shoved my phone into my pocket with a grimace and headed down to the tent, but the day only got worse from there. Vivian and Tanner read out the results of the vote, and both Nolan and I were in the bottom three, along with Roy, an older man with white hair who was barely taller than I was. Knowing that I deserved to be there didn’t make it suck any less.

“Nolan,” Tanner said sternly, “we understand that extenuating circumstances affected your performance in the tent on Monday. But if viewers aren’t voting for you, as judges, we can only do so much to save you.”

“And Aiden,” Vivian said, waving her spoon in the air to emphasize her points, “while I personally find you a delight, this is A Piece of Cake , not A Piece of Raw, Burned, Cake-Like Substance .”

“The fact of the matter is,” Tanner said, “the two of you both have a lot to work on. We believe you have potential, but you need to act on that potential, not waste it. Do you understand?”

We nodded, although I didn’t really see what the point was. Couldn’t they just tell me I was going home and not keep drawing it out?”

“Good,” Vivian said with a sharp nod. “Because we’re moving both of you on to next week. Don’t let us down.”

My jaw dropped. I was dimly aware of Nolan saying something next to me. He sounded as shocked as I felt, but I couldn’t process his words. I wasn’t going home? I got to stay for another week? I didn’t even mind that Nolan was staying too, that’s how happy I was.

It was kind of a shitty way to tell Roy he was going home, but I couldn’t deny they’d milked as much drama as possible from the situation. Relief swept over me. I felt like I might collapse. The other bakers came over to congratulate us and commiserate with Roy, and I swear their hugs were the only thing keeping me upright.

Finally, they cut the cameras, and Roy was allowed to step out of the tent to call his family and pack. They kept the rest of us inside for another few minutes, though, so the judges could explain the rest of the day’s schedule.

“Next week is pie week,” Vivian announced. “And your challenge is going to require some research. We’ll be heading over to the Adair public library to film you all as you gather ideas. We’ll actually film the bulk of your practice bakes tomorrow morning, so you’ll need to be ready bright and early again. We’ve got half an hour for lunch now, and then we’ll reconvene so we can film walking over to the library together.”

“Why not just film us at the library?” asked Lucinda, one of the other bakers.

“Or just let us look things up online like normal,” put in Omar.

“Because the Summersea Island tourism board has agreed to facilitate our filming here,” Tanner said, “in exchange for us showcasing the delights of their charming island.”

“Which include the library?” Omar arched an eyebrow.

“Which include many things,” Tanner said smoothly. “Of which the library is one. Now go grab your lunches and be back here in thirty minutes sharp.”

I was on my way out of the tent when one of the story producers, a young woman with long, dark hair, tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hey, Aiden, you have a sec?”

“Uh, sure. You’re Nora, right?”

The woman nodded. “Yep! I’m sorry we haven’t had much of a chance to chat yet. For some reason, I’ve always been working the other side of the tent.”

“No worries.” My brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? You’re not about to tell me that they made a mistake, and I actually am going home, right?”

I laughed to show that I was joking, but it petered out quickly when Nora didn’t join in.

“Oh shit, is that really what’s happening?”

“No, no.” Nora shook her head quickly. “It’s not that, it’s just—well, can you meet me inside in like, five minutes? Up in your room? Not for anything weird, I promise, I just don’t want us to be seen talking for too long.”

“Um. Okay?” I swallowed. This was getting stranger and stranger—a feeling that only intensified when I opened up my bedroom door five minutes later and Nora, that camera guy, Em, and Nolan all trooped into my room.

“Wait a second, why’s he here?” I asked, pointing to Nolan.

“I could say the same thing about you,” he said.

“It’s my room,” I retorted. “But I don’t have anything to say to—”

“Guys, guys, calm down, please?” Em held out his hands like he was separating us at a boxing match.

“I’m calm,” Nolan said, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. “Who said I wasn’t calm?”

I rolled my eyes, but Em gave me a pleading look, and I acquiesced. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. What’s so important that we have to meet all clandestinely about it up here?”

“Well, it’s actually Nora who found out about it,” Em said. “I’m just here because I didn’t think Nolan would agree to come talk to you on his own.”

“I’m not a child, Em,” Nolan protested.

“Could’ve fooled me,” I said. I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“Oh my lord, can y’all chill for one second?” Nora said. “This shouldn’t take too long. I just wanted to let you know—well, I kind of overheard something I shouldn’t have, I think. And it’s possible that I’m wrong, or I misheard, or they’ve changed their minds, but, well—” She took a deep breath. “I heard Vivian and Tanner talking earlier this morning. They got a note from the network that said they need to send you both home next week.”

“Wait, what?” My mouth fell open.

“Are you serious?” Nolan asked.

He looked as confused as I was. It was disconcerting, actually, feeling like I had something in common with him.

“They can’t do that,” I protested. “Not both of us, not in one week.”

“They can, actually,” Nora said. “I looked over the contract all the contestants signed, and you agreed that you’d only stay for as long as the show wants you here.”

“But the votes—”

“Even with the votes,” Nora said. “You basically signed your soul away when you came on the show. If you read the fine print, it only says that the judges will take the votes into account when making their final decisions—not that they have to abide by the voting totals.”

“But it’ll throw their numbers off,” I said, feeling increasingly desperate. “It’s an eight-week show. If they get rid of both of us—”

“They’ll just save someone another week,” Nora said with a shrug. “Have a week where no one goes home.”

“But why ?”

My voice went up an octave. I hated it, but couldn’t stop it. It didn’t help that Nolan was just standing there, silent, like he wasn’t even bothered by any of this.

Nora made a face. “It sounded—I mean, I could be wrong, but it sounded like the network never intended either of you to last that long. They wanted the brownie points they got for diversity in casting you, but you were never meant to make it. If things had gone differently, maybe they would have kept one of you around for a few more episodes, but as it is…”

“What do you mean, if things had gone differently ?” I asked.

“Jesus, what do you think?” Nolan pushed away from the wall. “She means that we look ridiculous. They wanted sweet, inoffensive gays who make them look good, not two guys who can’t stop fighting, one of whom can’t even bake.”

“But it’s good TV.”

“Not if the network doesn’t want it,” Nolan said. He looked at Em and Nora. “Thanks for letting me know. This gives me some time to try to line up a job before I have to go back to DC.”

Before I could say anything else, he was gone. Em and Nora left pretty quickly after him, nervous about someone seeing them and wondering if they were giving us some sort of inside scoop. I supposed they were—though it wasn’t a very helpful one.

Nolan had gone back to his room—I heard him shut the door down the hall—but I couldn’t stay in mine anymore. My mind was swirling, trying to come up with some way out of this, and I felt the need to move. I’d just gotten down to the main floor of the inn when I ran into Tanner in a back hallway.

“Oh, Aiden. Wonderful. I was hoping to see you.”

He smiled broadly and took a step towards me. I stepped back involuntarily. Tanner was taller than I was—well, everyone was taller than I was—but there was something vaguely predatory in his broad smile. It was all teeth.

“You—you were?” I asked, confused. He couldn’t possibly know what Em and Nora had just told us, could he?

“I was.” He stepped closer. “I hope we weren’t too hard on you out there, just now.”

“You weren’t,” I said, a little breathless. Somehow, I’d bumped up against the wall. “You were—I mean, what you said was fair.”

“It was also true,” Tanner said. “I really do want you to stick around. It would be a shame to lose you so early.”

“But what about—” I broke off, confused. I couldn’t tell him what I knew—unless he already knew that I knew. But how could I find out without asking him directly?

“What about what?” Tanner tilted his head to the side and smiled again. I felt like a caterpillar being examined by a large, hungry bird of prey.

“Just—nothing,” I said, laughing lightly. “Ignore me. I’m being dumb.”

“But I don’t want to ignore you.” He leaned against the wall, his forearm braced above my head, and looked down at me. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. I’d like the chance to get to know you a little better.”

“You…would?”

He laughed. “I just have this feeling you haven’t been able to show off your best side for the camera. That sweet, lovable side we saw back when you auditioned. I think America’s missing out on the real you.” His smile grew. “I’d love to be able to get to know the real you. And maybe, if I found him, I could make sure viewers got to know him too. Make sure you got to stay on the show.”

My jaw dropped. It was really getting a workout this morning. But I couldn’t help it. I felt like one of those comic-strip characters with a lightbulb over his head. I wasn’t going to take Tanner up on his proposition, but he’d just given me the best idea.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Tanner asked, his eyes boring into mine.

“I—I—I have to go,” I said, sprinting down the hall before he could say anything else.

I did understand what Tanner was saying. And I needed to talk to Nolan.