Chapter 30
thirty
RYAN
The sun’s already slipped beyond the horizon, leaving behind dusky hues. Everything around us smells like the sharp mix of lavender-scented disinfectant and astringent lemon soap.
We’ve finally been liberated from the grimy clutches of the obstacle course, each of us emerging one by one from the chaos, victorious in cleanliness.
Everyone’s been scrubbed, polished, and repaired, ready to brave another evening in the artificial romance wonderland.
Hair is back in place like nothing ever happened. Makeup, flawlessly reapplied.
Now we’ve traded the wild frenzy of the day for a bougie, low-key atmosphere.
Instead of wet and wild, we’re back to pretending we’re a group of sophisticated folks having a civilized glass of wine and nibbling on artisan cheese.
Acting more like casual friends than cutthroat competitors.
As if we aren’t in the middle of a dating circus that airs weekly on national television.
Elena’s determined to set a scene tonight. She’s turned off half the lamps and lit candles across every table, the flickering flames casting romantic shapes against the walls. The cameras, ever-present but trying to stay invisible, have been pulled back to give the illusion of privacy.
It’s supposed to be the moment in the show where it feels organic. Like we’re not all aware of the microphones pinned to our collars. More intimate. Relaxed. Real.
I can practically hear Elena talking to the crew. “We need the audience to see how much this group connects.”
The girls trickle in slowly at first. This time a little more polished than usual, as if the invitation said cocktail party instead of last rose standing. They ease into the room like it’s a friend’s loft apartment, posing with glasses of wine and clutching their sides in laughter.
Everyone’s dressed up just enough to look effortless.
I relax against the giant L-shaped sectional as a couple of girls sit at the other end, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially. Nobody wants to seem too eager, even though that’s the whole point of why we’re here.
I’m trying to melt into the cushions when I spot Wren arriving.
She appears in the doorway, framed by the dim light and the shadowy background of the hall. She’s in soft black. Nothing flashy, but she looks beautiful. Simple. Unapproachable.
I grit my teeth.
She’s been doing this all day. Sending signals, then clamming up and keeping her distance. Playing this maddening game of push and pull that’s driving me insane.
She pauses as she comes in, scanning the scene with those unreadable eyes. My pulse picks up and I shuffle a little, half expecting, half hoping she’ll make a move my way.
Wren seems to spot me, but it’s like nothing registers on her face. She just gives a slight shrug, like she’s got no idea I’m even here.
She heads for the far end of the room, her chin up, making a point to sit as far away from me as possible.
Elena calls out across the room. “Wren! Sit beside him, would you? Everyone move over and make room.”
It’s an order. Not a request. Elena’s eyebrows arch with expectation as she gestures insistently to the cushion on my left, the empty spot beside me that might as well be blinking with neon arrows.
Wren hesitates, caught in the spotlight, while Heidi dramatically scoots closer on my right. She smirks as she stakes her claim by practically gluing her thigh to mine. Her perfume hangs thick in the air.
I start to feel like I’m trapped in the world’s most awkward sandwich.
Wren’s face flickers with something. Indecision, maybe. Frustration. Then she lets out a sigh so quiet it’s almost inaudible and gives a small nod.
She finally sits next to me with a silent huff. So close yet so far away. Her body stiff, tense. A tightly wound coil ready to spring at any second.
Her leg bounces once, then goes still. She looks everywhere but at me, like the candles and cheese trays have suddenly become wildly interesting.
I shuffle uncomfortably, caught between the jubilant giggles on my right and Wren’s icy indifference on my left.
We start talking, though it’s more like a play. The kind the producers want us to perform, complete with a suggested script and prompt cards.
The cameras hover nearby, eager for a soundbite, as we throw ourselves into the kind of forced conversation that’s supposed to seem deep and interesting.
About love, about life, about dating in the public eye.
It’s all calculated to sound breezy and intimate and relatable, but it’s anything but that.
The phrase hockey god’s girlfriend comes up, just like I knew it would.
I cringe so hard my entire body tightens, retreating instinctively behind a gulp of wine.
When someone says that dreaded phrase, Wren glances at me with a sideways look. Just briefly. A quick flash of something. Then she smothers it with a nonchalant shrug and turns away, feigning indifference like it didn’t mean anything at all.
I know it’s only a matter of time before someone derails this cozy little chat we’re supposed to be having.
Heidi doesn’t bother with subtlety.
She turns to me halfway through a bite of cracker and says, “Are you ever gonna kiss me, or are you scared I’ll be too good at it?”
Someone hoots. A few of the girls chime in with catcalls and teasing nudges, egging Heidi on with barely suppressed giggles.
I shift uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, and look toward Elena. She’s nodding emphatically from behind the cameras. All “do it for the footage.”
I know there’s no escaping this moment.
Yeah. This is happening.
Heidi waits expectantly, her eyes practically daring me to back down. I give her a sideways grin, then lean in and kiss her.
It’s quick. Almost clinical. I barely let it last ten seconds. The whole thing has a wine-flavored aftertaste and feels more like an obligation than passion. Just enough to satisfy the cameras. Probably Heidi’s ego, too.
She pulls away with a triumphant smile like she’s just won a challenge.
Everyone claps and someone whistles as the pressure breaks. The conversation picks up again, full of manufactured intimacy and playful banter.
I steal a glance at Wren, but she’s still looking coolly uninterested. Ignoring the kiss entirely.
My heart sinks a little and I throw myself into more meaningless chatter about cheese and poorly matched wine pairings. I almost convince myself I’m relaxed, but I know the veneer won’t last long.
Raven, who has clearly been refilling her glass more often than anyone else, leans forward with the inebriated persistence of someone who’s got a truth bomb to deliver.
Her cheeks are flushed. She hiccups a little before blurting, “Okay, but like… why haven’t you kissed Wren more? She’s right there.”
The words hang in the air. Bold and unrestrained. Much like Raven herself on a tipsy night.
I freeze. So does Wren.
Elena’s smiling again from the shadows. Waiting.
Wren mutters, “You don’t have to…” But I’m already leaning in.
It’s a reckless urge. A runaway impulse. And it takes over completely, pulling me across the invisible line.
I’m sure I’ll regret it. I’m sure it’s a terrible idea.
But I don’t care. Not in this instant.
I breathe in the scent of her. Sweet and soft and impossible. Just as our lips meet.
Everything else blurs. Everyone else vanishes. There’s no show. No competition. No awkward sandwiching to escape from.
There’s only Wren.
It’s like I’m kissing her for the first time.
She doesn’t pull away or start with another protest. She doesn’t freeze up or brush it off like I halfway expected.
Instead, her mouth opens against mine like she forgot there were people watching. Her fingers curl into the cushion between us.
I seize the moment, tilting her chin to deepen the kiss.
It’s suddenly more than I thought it would be. Hotter. Wilder. More real. It tastes like fear and longing, not cheap wine.
It’s wrong. It’s dangerous. There are a thousand reasons why we should stop.
But we don’t stop.
We don’t hold back.
We don’t break away until the whisper of silence falls over the room.
We just made out for a solid minute in front of everyone.
I look around and realize most of the girls are pretending it didn’t happen. Wren looks like she wants to sink through the floor.
I reach for my wine again, trying to cool off after the kiss. After the whole crazy scene. After that one blazing moment when everything else disappeared.
I try to shake off the awkwardness of returning to reality, taking a shaky breath as conversations resume around me. Wren is still beside me but miles away. Silent and distant. The tension hangs between us like smoke.
I’m pretty sure Elena’s got a whole new plan now and won’t stop until she gets exactly what she wants.
She paces behind the cameras, hatching new schemes, while I sit there dazed and drained and not sure how to handle this latest insanity.
Later, after everyone’s been herded out to the back patio for the fastest rose ceremony we’ve done all season, I call the names like I’m supposed to.
They’re expecting dramatic tension, lingering shots, and suspenseful pauses, but I power through it at warp speed instead. I get through the names like I’m ripping off bandages. Fast, clumsy, and hoping the sting won’t last long.
Wren’s name leaves my lips with more force than necessary. I can’t stop thinking about that kiss. About how it felt. About how she wouldn’t look at me afterward.
Nobody misses my hesitation. My pause is monumental as her name echoes in the night.
Her eyes find mine for a fraction of a second as I hand her the rose.
I’m not sure if she’s angry or confused or both. Maybe she hates what just happened.
Maybe she’s scared she didn’t hate it enough.
When I say Daisy, I pause again. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it.
She looks at me with big, playful eyes and that mischievous grin, already knowing what it means.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I hand her a goodbye rose. “You’re not the one.”
She nods, hugs me, and makes a joke about dodging a bullet. Because that’s Daisy. Always the life of every party, even her own farewell.
Elena’s thrilled with the unexpected drama and is probably brainstorming how to make Wren and me even more of a spectacle next week.
I’d put money on her sending us on the dreaded two-on-one date. The ultimate showdown. Guaranteed humiliation.
My mind spins in a million directions, but I can’t shake how close I just came to messing everything up.
Wren doesn’t look at me. Not directly.
Every time I think she might, she turns away at the last second, avoiding my gaze like it burns.
I feel the sting of it as the rest of the girls gather inside. Full of whispers and speculation now that the biggest cat is out of the bag.
I catch sight of a few producers punching notes into their phones and scrambling to adjust the storyline.
Everyone looks a little frantic as we file back in. A little too eager to build on the segment they never saw coming.
The whole house heaves with so much noise, it feels like the walls will burst. A thousand voices. A thousand excited whispers. Everyone’s alive with the sound of what just went down.
I lose track of Wren in the chaos. I’m not sure if she’s avoiding me or just caught up in the surge, but Elena’s voice carries over it all.
“Keep rolling!” she shouts, full of manic energy, ready to capitalize on the madness. “We’re getting it all on camera!”
Her words push the crew into a frenzy, desperate to capture more shocking moments. More sizzling drama.
I barely have time to think before I get swept away in it again. Thrown right back into the storm of glittery chaos.
That’s when it happens.
A sputter. A flicker. A buzz.
Then nothing.
The lights die out. The whole set is dark. I can still make out the shadowy faces of people, but I’m not certain who I’m looking at.
For a second, we’re all frozen. It’s like someone hit pause on our very own reality TV, leaving us in a void that’s as silent as it is sudden.
Stunned confusion ripples through the room, a wave of uncertain murmurs.
“What the hell?” I hear someone say, and it’s as if that breaks the spell.
The air snaps with bewildered voices, all at once.
“Did someone trip over a cable?” one of the guys calls out, trying to lighten the mood.
Some of the girls laugh like they think it’s part of the show. Another crazy twist to shake things up.
But then a metallic clang echoes, and the laughter falters.
I reach awkwardly in the dark, bumping into elbows, knees, and a body I hope is Heidi’s.
Accusations fly.
“Who touched me?”
“Wasn’t me.”
“Very funny, guys.”
A crash sounds from somewhere close, followed by a panicked “Watch out!”
It feels like the world’s starting to tilt. To turn on its head. To slip out of control.
A chorus of voices, high-pitched and frantic, starts rising over the din. The sound builds and builds, gaining momentum like a runaway train. Like everyone’s about to lose their minds.
“Is this a joke?”
More shouts. More random guesses.
“Come on, you guys!”
“Um, are we gonna die?”
“Not cool!”
Even the crew’s yelling, fumbling to figure it out, as chaos spreads like a quickly catching fire.
I hear feet scuffling across the floor. Bodies jostling for position. Everyone crowding toward the nearest windows. Anywhere there might be some light. Some relief from the sudden plunge into uncertainty.
Then Elena’s voice cuts through.
“Power’s out! Something electrical is definitely on fire!”
It’s loud. Authoritative. It sucks up the noise like a vacuum.
What follows is dead silence. Like we’re all holding our breath.
“We’re halting production until further notice,” she announces.
The finality of her words hangs in the air. Dimming our panic, but not by much.
Everyone murmurs and starts scattering.
I glance at Wren. Her hands tremble at her sides.
When I take a step toward her, she flinches.
She’s not just startled.
She’s afraid.
For the first time, I’m not sure it’s only the dark she fears.