Chapter 8
eight
WREN
After the showdown in the rose garden, I can’t wait to be alone.
I’m definitely an introvert, and I’ve officially used up all my conversation talking points for the day.
I just want to stare at the wall and sort through my thoughts in peace.
My throat’s tight, my hands won’t stop shaking, and my skin feels too tight for my bones.
I need quiet. I need out .
The whole night feels like emotional whiplash. I’ve gone from zero to heartbreak to hope in less than an hour, and now I just want to shut my brain off.
Ryan disappears off set, and I trail behind the other contestants as we’re herded away from the rose garden and into the house. It’s weird. Everyone is smiling like they’re in a toothpaste commercial while also trying to look very sexy climbing the stairs.
I’m just trying not to trip in the heels Jennifer picked out for me as I head upstairs toward the bedroom I share with several other bachelorettes.
The bedroom doors have tags with our names.
I’m staying in the third bedroom with Heidi, Raven, and Divya.
Heidi opens the door and leads the way. The bedroom is gorgeous— white bedding, blush accents, very Instagram-ready.
Two sets of bunk beds make me nervous, but the vibe is pretty. A little too cheerful, maybe.
Heidi is on the top bunk on the right, I’m on the bottom. On the left side of the room, Divya is on the top bunk and Raven is on the bottom.
Heidi gives me a sly look. “Hey, we made it through night one. That’s something to be proud of.”
I laugh while she claims a bureau and vanity on our side of the room. “Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t combust during the final rose ceremony. I’ve never been on TV before.”
“Neither have I.” She grins. “I guess we both did pretty well.”
I glance at Divya and Raven, silently moving around across the room, unpacking and straightening. Divya saw me falter tonight. She’ll use it. Maybe not today. But it’s coming.
I see that Raven has pulled out a book titled Spiritual Divination and tossed it on her bunk. She shimmies out of her dress and hangs it up, then changes into dark jammies. Divya pulls on a satin teddy and carefully applies gold under-eye patches.
It’s quiet in the room as we all change. Heidi takes off her makeup with a disposable cleaning cloth. Seeing the girls in their natural state is a bit startling. There are no cameras, so there’s no reason for Divya to needle me or Heidi to be flirtatious.
Raven arches a brow at me. “Do you want me to do your tarot?”
“No.” I sit down on my bunk and shake my head. “I’m completely wiped out by the elimination ceremony. I feel like all that aggressive energy flowing around stole my vigor.”
“I get that. The rose ceremony was weird.” Raven sighs. “It’s nice that we can be friendly, at least for now. Maybe we’ll make some new friends.”
“That a nice change of pace. Usually girls on these shows are like, ‘I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to win .’ Which is gross.”
As we settle in, Raven stretches out on her bed. “I just want to see if falling in love on reality TV actually works. That and the free wine. That’s really why I’m here.”
“That’s very honest of you,” Heidi says, chuckling.
Raven shrugs. “I’m an honest bitch.”
Divya looks up. “Well, I’m here to be seen. What else is there to do after med school?”
“I don’t know. Save lives?” Raven suggests.
“Ugh. Boring,” Divya shoots back, grabbing her toiletry bag like it’s sacred. “I’m changing and starting my self-care routine.”
“This feels like summer camp,” Heidi says.
I’ve never been good at summer camp. Or sleepovers. Or any place where I have to pretend I belong. I’m great at school and structure. I’m not great at competing for love in front of a camera.
I pull on pink silk shorts and a white camisole. “Yeah. If summer camp had cameras, heels, and one guy dating twelve women.”
Heidi winks but says nothing.
After unpacking, I pull out a Greek mythology book and drop it on my bed. My phone, given to me by the show and which has no internet capability, buzzes. I check it and immediately wish I hadn’t.
A text from Ryan:
Outside patio. Five minutes. Don’t make me come find you, Rustin.
My heart stutters. Ryan. Demanding as always. Even here. Where we can get caught. Cameras are everywhere. Doesn’t he care?
If anyone sees me sneaking off to meet him, the narrative will write itself. I’ll go from weird invisible girl to desperate villain in one episode flat.
I should ignore it. I should delete it. But my fingers hover over the screen like they’re waiting for permission to want something impossible.
Unfortunately, my body tenses with excitement anyway. It’s muscle memory at this point. Hear from Ryan? Heart races. Brain short-circuits. Soul quietly begs for dignity. I hate that my body doesn’t listen.
When I look up, Raven is smirking. “What? Did your evil overlord text you or something?”
“No,” I lie. My ears warm.
“You’re blushing,” Heidi says gently.
“It’s warm in here.”
“Only your ears are red,” Raven adds.
“God. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to wash my face.”
Grabbing a hoodie and my toiletry bag, I slip out quickly. I stash my bag in the nearest open bathroom and hurry downstairs. The house is quiet, dimly lit.
I open the sliding door to the rose garden.
Ryan’s standing by a column, looking at his phone. He’s out of his suit now, wearing a tank top and gray sweatpants. His body is big and solid, like always. I can see every line of his arms and back.
He’s lounging like a great cat, all slow confidence and dangerous smiles. It’s criminal how good he looks in sweatpants. I want to hate him. I do hate him. Just not enough.
As much as I despise it, I feel a jolt low in my belly. I clench my jaw.
This is not what I need right now.
The second I see him, I feel everything at once—relief, dread, that fluttery warning in my gut. Like stepping into shade and realizing you still might burn.
I step out and glance at the camera angled toward him. Ryan looks up, sees me, and turns. I press a finger to my lips, point to the camera, and slip around the corner to one of the blind spots.
He follows, his presence prickling across my skin.
He crosses his arms, cocky and relaxed. Like he owns the place. Unfortunately, he kind of does.
“Wow,” I say. “Summoning me like a villain. Very on-brand.”
He drags his eyes down my bare legs. A shiver runs through me.
“You showed up,” he says. “Must’ve missed me.”
“Maybe I was worried you’d do something dramatic. Like bang on my windows and scream my name.”
He grins. “Don’t tempt me, Chirp.”
I scowl. “I hate that nickname.”
“Yep. I know. But you can deal. You snuck out to see me. You’re on a show where I’m the prize, so as far as I’m concerned, you do what I say.”
I should lie. I should deny it. But the truth is clinging to my skin like humidity. I hate that he knows I’ll come when he calls. I hate that he might be the only person who sees me this clearly.
Everyone else makes me shrink. With Ryan, I snap back. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because he’s never let me be invisible. And I’m scared of how much I like that.
“Yeah, that’s always worked well. Expectations and me? Besties.”
“Well, you’re still here. I could’ve eliminated you.”
I cross my arms. He keeps looking at my chest, and my body—traitorous and evil—reacts. I swear, my nipples tighten under the thin fabric of my cami.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you, Ryan. I thought you’d cut me immediately.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Now I get to watch you squirm on national TV.”
“Glad my suffering is so entertaining.”
“Oh, it’s more than entertaining. It’s the highlight of my day.”
“You’re really leaning into the whole bachelor villain thing, huh?”
He shrugs. “Only because you make it so easy. You’re the perfect storm. Sarcastic, hostile, and still blushing like I’m your first crush.”
“I’m not blushing.”
He taps my earlobe. “Looks like a blush to me.”
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying. But here you are.”
I heave a sigh. “I’m not one of your groupies. I’m not even dating material, okay?”
Because I’m not. I’m awkward and too smart and not hot in the way people want. No one has ever picked me. Not really. So why would he?
“Oh yeah? So you’re just waiting for some dream boyfriend to appear out of thin air?”
“I’m waiting for the right person. Someone who respects me. My first boyfriend. My first… everything. And unless you’re volunteering to be a respectful soulmate—which you’re not—I suggest you back off.”
My voice cracks on the word. I wish it didn’t. But there’s a part of me that meant it. That wants it. That wants him to be different, even when I know better.
He tilts his head. “I’m not the right person.”
“Good. Because you’re not even in the running. If you were the last man on earth, the human race would die out before I slept with you.”
“You say that a lot. But you keep showing up when I text.” He smirks at me.
Yeah . Because I’m an idiot . And because some small, masochistic part of me likes pretending I’m important to you, even if it’s just for five minutes in the dark.
“Because you’re manipulative. And I don’t trust you not to blow up my time here by dredging up our past. Whatever this… thing is.”
“There’s a difference between hating me and fantasizing about me.”
“You’re inescapable. That’s not the same as fantasizing.”
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”
“There are plenty of women here who want your attention. Just let me exist until the producers send me home. That’s it.”
He cocks his head.
“You do realize we will probably have to kiss at some point?”
My face flames. “What? No we won’t.”
“Yes, we will. This is a dating show. That’s what people do when they’re trying to figure out if they’re compatible.” He squints at me. “Maybe you’ve never done that.”
“I’m not talking to you about this,” I grit out.
“What’s a matter, Chirp? Never kissed anyone before?”
“I’ve kissed people. Jesus. What is this, middle school?”
“I’m not sure that you have.”
“I have,” I growl. “You sure are interested for someone that absolutely shouldn’t touch me lest you risk Jay killing you.”
His smile slides through me like a superheated knife.
“Relax, Wren. You’re Jay’s little sister. You’re innocent. Off-limits.”
“Off-limits,” I repeat.
He shrugs. “Yeah. And I’ve got self-control.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
“Believe it or not, I’m doing you a favor.”
“Oh, now you’re protecting me?”
His smile slips. His voice softens. “You’re too good for this.”
It’s the softest he’s ever spoken to me. And I hate that it hits harder than any insult ever could.
“You mean too good for you.”
He shrugs again. “Same thing.”
“Eventually, I’ll find someone I don’t want to strangle every time they talk.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what? Don’t answer that. You’re exhausting.”
“And yet,” he says, “here you are.”
I glance around. We’ve been talking too long.
“Yeah, I should go.”
“Sure. Run back to your room. Try not to dream about me, Chirp.”
I fix him with a glare. “You’re not even a real person. You’re just nice teeth and a smirk.”
He laughs. “You love me.”
I turn away, my cheeks flaming bright red. He says I’m too good for this. But he’s the one who keeps pulling me in. And I’m the one who keeps letting him.
I don’t say thank you. I don’t say anything. I just breathe him in and pretend, for one selfish second, that this could be real.