Chapter 14
Nina
Once all the men’s costumes have been sorted, Deja invites me to watch them film the “meet-cute,” the scene in which the Mountainettes will meet all the Mountain Men for the first time.
“Technically,” Deja tells me, “we’ll be there in case anything goes wrong with wardrobe, but really, it’s just fun to see all the hormonal chaos.”
Deja has worked on other reality dating shows, so I’ll take her word for it.
Although I’m intrigued to see the contestants interact with each other, I also feel a little sick to my stomach.
And not just because I’ll be watching Wes flirt with a bunch of women.
I’m also vicariously nervous for all the Mountainettes.
I can’t help but imagine myself as one of them, how anxious I would be meeting so many big, imposing men, with all the lights on me, the cameras tracking my every move.
All of the men have seemed nice enough in my brief interactions with them, but I know if I were in the show, I’d worry they were only talking to me because a producer was making them.
My anxiety would insist that no matter how pleasant they were being, they’d be wishing they could talk to one of the other Mountainettes instead of me.
I voice a carefully pared-down version of this concern to Deja. “It would be so hard to try to juggle so many men at once.”
“Two tops,” Deja agrees, nodding sagely. “Three gets complicated. Four is just plain messy.”
Something about her tone makes me think I better not ask any follow-up questions.
I’m relieved when I see various producers positioning the Mountainettes into place in front of the log cabin being used for shooting.
“Cabin” is a bit misleading, since the structure is huge, easily big enough to house all the Mountain Men who make it past the first round.
Although it’s more rustic than the Lodge, where my family is staying, it has all the basics the men will need, along with an absolutely breathtaking view of the Smoky Mountains.
The Mountainettes have all been styled in different colors of cute flannels, with beanies to match their chosen shade. Jeans and boots complete the ensemble. I see Harmony was assigned pink, which should thrill her. Pink is her signature color, after all.
I notice, with a pang I try my best to squash, that each Mountainette looks beautiful, polished, and confident. “They look so pretty,” I tell Deja, trying my best to smile. “You all did a great job.”
There. See how magnanimous I am? You would never guess I’m about to watch them all flirt with the only man I’ve ever loved. (Envy.) But I’m fine with it. It’s fine! (Dishonesty.)
Deja points to where the road comes around the bend. “That’s where the men will be arriving. Production found four old DeKalb Lumberjack trucks, the kind from the 1950s, and refurbished them. Each one will carry in eight men.”
So that will be thirty-two men total, all competing for four Mountainettes. Sounds complicated. “How many will they eliminate this week?” I ask her.
“Each woman will get to choose six men she wants to keep on for this first round. Every week, one more will be eliminated, until each woman only has one man left—or decides to leave the show single.”
I must be a horrible person, because my immediate, unfiltered hope is that Wes gets cut in the first round. That he decides to go back to wherever it is he really comes from. That way, I won’t have to watch him flirt with anyone.
Then again, if he leaves in the first round, I’ll probably never see him again. My dumb heart can’t decide which prospect would be worse.
Deja and I are positioned across the dirt driveway from the Mountainettes, where we’ll be able to see the Mountain Men arrive but stay out of the shot.
Between the cast and the production crew, there are so many people on set, I don’t expect Harmony to take any notice of me.
To my surprise, she spots me right away and gives me a happy wave, motioning excitedly to her hat. Pink! she mouths.
I give her a double thumbs-up to show how happy I am for her.
Her attention is drawn away by Lyle, who seems to be giving her some last-minute instructions, so I let my gaze drift around the group gathered to watch the filming.
I never realized there would be so many people on film sets.
I recognize Lyle, of course, and Sienna and Raquel, though all of them look far too busy for me to approach.
Everyone seems occupied and determined, focused on whatever their job is on set.
Everyone but Morrie. I’ve been put under firm instruction not to acknowledge him in person unless strictly necessary, so I’m surprised to find that he’s staring at me intently, looking back and forth between Harmony and me with a furrowed brow.
My attention is snagged away by Deja, who nudges me and points toward the first truck rounding the bend.
The Mountainettes snap to attention as the cameras start rolling, trying to capture their reactions to the first group of men.
As the vehicle approaches, I see the Mountain Men are thrumming with excitement, buoyed by the adventure and the cameras and the pretty women waiting for them.
I scan their faces and am relieved that I don’t see Wes yet, then annoyed at myself for feeling relieved. Before either emotion can get too carried away, my attention gets snagged by Morrie again. He’s still staring at me.
Weird. Though his eyes are fixed on me, I avert my gaze, feeling too awkward and self-conscious to look back and have him catch me watching him in return. (Someone help me make that make sense, please.) Even so, I see him gesturing at me—jerking his head to the side, indicating I should join him.
Frowning, I look at Deja, trying to come up with a good excuse to leave her. “I’m just going to . . .”
I trail off when I realize she’s too busy watching the filming to care about what I do.
After sneaking over to Morrie, I look at him questioningly, but he jerks his head at me again. “Don’t look at me. Stand a few feet in front of me. Face forward.”
Without thinking, I do as he commands, even though it’s an extremely strange way to behave.
If anyone notices us, we’ll look far more guilty than if we just have a regular conversation with each other.
“What’s going on?” I whisper back to him.
Well, I think I’m whispering to him, anyway.
It’s possible he’s already walked off, since my back is turned to him.
“You know Harmony Miller?” he asks.
Wherever I thought this conversation was going, this wasn’t it. “Y-yes,” I stammer, stupidly.
Morrie’s voice sounds grim. “We need to talk . . .”