Chapter 9
Peter
Iwas hunched in a corner, peeking through the opening in the door and at the same time trying to awkwardly blend into the wallpaper. I wasn’t quite supposed to be here, eavesdropping on Oliver being grilled by Gina, but I was up next and I was early and…here I was.
“Was it a shock?” Gina asked gently as Oliver was squirming in his seat on the sofa. “I mean, it was very obvious that Peter didn’t feel comfortable with his match. At least not at first.”
“I don’t think either of us was comfortable with the other,” Oliver replied calmly.
Impressively skirting what could have been another faux pas.
I knew I had said some very stupid things on day one.
Today? I was going to learn to control my mouth.
Think before I speak. Not like Oliver here, who was laughing at whatever Gina had just said.
“He’s really good for me, I think,” Oliver continued. “Peter is calm in this absolute chaos here. You have noticed the chaos, Gina? I mean? Last night? What was that? Fill me in on the details, doll.”
Now he was winking, and even I was blushing as he leant forward, far too close to Gina’s ample…cleavage.
She was nice, but equally terrifying. On the surface very pleasant, but I was learning to guard my walls here. I had no idea where my loyalties were supposed to lie, apart from.
Damn it.
“So are you saying that Peter could be a possibility for you here?” Gina smiled. “Is calm something you are looking for in a partner?”
“I am looking for calm, of course I am. Loyalty and support are things I value. Don’t we all? We all need that person in our life, the one who we know will have our back, no matter what. That is what my ideal partner would look like.”
Good answer, I thought, standing there staring at him. Then at Gina, who just smirked knowingly.
“I think you like Peter. I think that perhaps there has been an initial surprise connection there. Who knows? I mean, let me ask you this. If you were asked to re-couple today, who would you choose?”
“Peter,” he said without hesitation, as my face flamed.
Then I swallowed, because as that question had been spoken?
I had thought the same thing. There was…
It was day two, and there was nobody else here I had even considered.
But then. We were twenty-four hours in, and Oliver?
A friend. A good friend. For now? I wanted to stay with him. Easy. Comfortable.
Uncomplicated.
I just stood there, unable to actually function.
“Your turn,” he said cheerily, suddenly passing me as he exited the small backroom that served as our intimate chat-with-Gina place. We’d done this twice yesterday, and here I was again. With nothing to say. I had nothing to say at all.
If someone had asked me the same question yesterday?
Hell.
“Peter,” Gina said softly. “Take a seat.”
Not even a chance to breathe.
“How have the past twenty-four hours been? And Oliver? Is he what you expected?”
“What I expected?” I almost snarled. Then I managed to actually produce a smile. A smirk perhaps.
“Oliver is a delight. Very nice. We’ve had a great time. I look forward to spending more time with him today.”
Neat. Tidy.
“And what about Diane? She expressed her desire to spend time with you earlier, and today we will have the speed-dating challenge, where you get to choose three people to spend alone time with. Have you thought about who those people will be for you?”
“What?” I gulped out as the cameraman laughed.
The cameraman. What kind of circus were they running here?
“Do you know what I would like?” I said instead, feeling my face heat up.
“No. Tell me. What are you hoping for?”
“I hoped for a connection. For laughter. And I hoped I would meet someone who would make me feel…all those things I haven’t felt in a long time.”
“Sounds wonderful. Things we all hope for,” Gina said softly.
“And instead? I am sat here wondering what is actually going on.”
“Well, that, dear viewers, is exactly what we are all thinking. Am I right?” She turned to the camera. “Because that is where you, the viewer, come in…”
“It shouldn’t be up to strangers to decide.”
Who was I again? Some middle-aged idiot thinking this would have been the answer to all his prayers or something? What a fool I was. And now I was even voicing it out loud.
“Perhaps, Peter, perhaps sometimes strangers can see what none of us notice ourselves.”
“Only we know what we feel. You can’t see feelings on the outside.” I was being too sharp here. Not guarded enough. And that’s why I was spouting nonsense.
“Oh, but I think you can. Sometimes a simple glance can tell an almost complete story. Don’t you think?”
“We’re human beings here. We don’t communicate through…glances.”
“No,” Gina agreed, adjusting herself in her seat. “But sometimes actions speak louder than words. And your defensiveness here tells me something I think we all can read.”
I stood up. And I walked out, as Gina’s voice rang through the air, calling my name.
There was anger in my chest. I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t like this. I didn’t like any of it.
Finding myself standing in the middle of the common room?
The sound of people’s chatter, doors slamming and a cameraman panning across the sofa?
I couldn’t even figure out where I was going or what I was looking for.
But I felt lost, and at a loss. Confused and out of place.
If someone had shoved a plate of X-rays in my hand?
I could have found solid ground and gathered my thoughts.
Here I had nothing. No boys to keep me grounded. No house chores to complete.
No Mary.
I fled, and I wasn’t proud. Through that door with the metallic four. Into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind me.
This wasn’t me. I couldn’t do this. I had nothing to bring to the table here. Nothing. What was I supposed to do? Go out there and make small talk with a bunch of desperate, seemingly fame-hungry strangers? Talk about the length of my dick? Discuss sexual habits…or something?
I ripped my mic off and threw it at the floor. I hoped the distortion would hit whoever was listening in on all of this. Cause a migraine. I couldn’t even smile at my lame joke.
The silence was shattered by more shouting, doors slamming and someone calling my name.
I was needed. And just like that, I was being summoned to the common room on the sofa, expected to perform forced pleasantries with some people I’d never met.
And here I was, willingly retrieving my mic set from the tiled bathroom floor and hanging it back around my neck. Straightening myself up.
I couldn’t even meet my own gaze in the mirror.
I still did. Squirmed in unease. Then I walked back out there and allowed myself to be manhandled to wherever they wanted me.
These…faceless strangers. Production people.
They didn’t even wear name tags. Just blank IDs with colours and the production company logo.
“Oliver,” I said, answering another ridiculous question. “I’m with Oliver.” I sounded like a fraud. “And you are?”
Some woman who nodded knowingly. “I’m new here, just brought in. My name is Roxette. Named after that pop band, yes. I am aware.” She rolled her eyes in some kind of fake tic. Hands everywhere. “My parents were big fans.”
“Okay?” I questioned, turning to the bloke next to her, who was just staring at me. I’d never seen him either.
“Elia,” he growled out, his voice far too deep for my…fragile head. “So, you’re gay?”
“No!” I burst out.
“No?” This Roxette woman smiled. “But your partner is Oliver. A man, yes?”
“Yes,” I started, then stopped. “I’m with Oliver.”
“Good for you,” the bloke said. “I’m all about skipping the labels.
And you’re happy with this Oliver? It’s nice that they have done such a good job of coupling us up.
I mean, Roxette here, I asked for Scandinavian, blonde, curves and smiles.
I think I hit the jackpot!” The bloke grinned as Roxette did another squirm…
slash eye-roll. Followed by a blinding smile. Teeth.
I was doing it again and had to shrug myself out of it. Fake. Badly fitted and the absolutely wrong shade for her appearance.
“That’s nice,” I said weakly as production cut in, saving me from commenting on something I had no right to comment on.
Perhaps I should ask to join the styling team.
I would have been great at sorting these people’s teeth out.
And now there was another guy with headphones adjusting my jumper. Someone else I hadn’t seen yesterday.
“Guys, we need more spice. We need confessions. How are you feeling? Peter, I need you to ask Roxette and Elia about their first meeting, and after that, can you share your experience from yesterday? How your initial shock ended with the two of you falling asleep together?”
“My what?” I squirmed.
“Hang on.” The production guy rattled off something into his headset.
“Wait,” he continued as I sat there like the fool I was.
“I’m very excited for all this.” Roxette filled in the silence. “I always wanted to do reality TV. I’ve done some extra work before, and then I did a commercial for Novello hair spray. Did you see it?”
“Novello?” the guy said. “They sponsor us?”
“YES!” Roxette shouted. “Ideal opportunity. I jumped at it.”
“Great.” He crossed his arms. I wasn’t following this. None of it.
“Here’s Oliver. Now, I need you two to lead the conversation here and ensure all of you share your first meetings, first Roxette and Elia here, then if you, Oliver, if you can start off the conversation. We need steam. We need gossip. And we need drama. Can you do that for us?”
Oliver. Sinking down on the sofa, far too close to me. Arm around my back.
I wanted to move. Move out of the way and make space, but I had nowhere to go.
“And action!”
“Sorry, I just need to do some very unnecessary public displays of affection here.” Oliver smiled, wriggling down. “Move over a bit, doll.”
“I’m the doll now?” I huffed out. I was just giving him grief. I didn’t mind his little nicknames. His vocal quirks.
“This is stupid,” he whispered, giving me a wink. “Just play along.”
“So you’re Oliver,” Elia said, leaning far too far into the conversation. Placing a hand on Oliver’s knee.
“Yes. And you two are?”
Introductions. More stupidity. And Oliver now pretty much curled up on my lap. I had no idea where to put my hands, letting them awkwardly rest somewhere at the back of the sofa. Also, I behaved like the twat I clearly was, swatting Elia’s hand away from Oliver’s knee. Because. Okay.
“This here? This is Peter. Peter is my emotional support person and partner. He’s absolutely delightful. Apart from that, he likes tuna sandwiches.”
Oliver… What now?
“I don’t…what?”
“Plain tuna sandwiches. He told me. Why would you like that when you can get Fisher and Brea’s new tuna spread? They’re the perfect filling for your sandwich. Don’t you agree, Peter?”
I couldn’t help myself; I actually laughed out loud, letting my hand fall heavily on Oliver’s leg, sternly brushing Elia’s yet again incoming hand away. My head falling against his shoulder. Like some kind of weird embrace.
The little bastard. Oh God. And that Elia needed to control his wandering hands. What was it with everyone trying to touch people? And now Roxette had her arm slung around Elia’s shoulders.
“Get with the script.” He chuckled into my ear.
“Tuna sandwiches.”
“Classy.” He laughed. I did too.