Chapter 20 The Conversation Pit of Hell #2
I figured she must have mellowed out in the two decades that have passed since then.
But maybe not, given the way she’s rapidly tapping her fingers on the sofa back, attention laser-focused on us and us alone.
She certainly looks entertained by our performance.
Hopefully entertained enough to give us the incentive.
Blake pokes Beck. “Ask Dean when he first realized he was in love.”
Beck does so. Everyone looks at me. The sound director gestures urgently at the boom mic operator on the other side of the room, who runs closer. Every camera has swiveled to train on me. My body turns to ice.
“Um—” I say. Everyone I know will see me be a blubbering, blustering idiot in love. It’s setting in for the first time. “Well, first off, this is still new, you know? ‘Love’ is a little strong. Maybe?”
Seyoon has a satisfied smirk on her face. I’ve won, it screams.
I want to wipe that smirk off her face so bad, it turns me feverish.
“However,” I say. I pause to smother the nerves buzzing deliriously in my bones. It takes all my strength to keep my hands and legs from shaking. I lick my lips. Seyoon’s eyes dart to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. Whatever shows there makes her smugness falter. Good.
“If I had to trace when I knew I liked her down to a single moment…” I start again, my voice taking on a gentler, more raw tone, not necessarily by choice. My gaze trails over Seyoon’s face. The best lies need to have some truth to be believable. It’s how we’ll convince Blake to give us that clue.
Seyoon’s hand on my knee twitches, heavy and hot.
The sensation brings me back to the first time she touched me.
It was during Mountain Marathon. Like the reckless, overeager moron she is, she leaped onto my zip line.
We could’ve fallen. I nearly did—until she reached out and grabbed me, uncaring of how it opened her fresh wounds back up.
“It was probably when she kept me from falling off the zip line in the first challenge,” I answer.
I’m only looking at Seyoon now. It’s easier than at the cameras for some reason.
“And it wasn’t because she saved my life.
It was because she did it without thinking.
Like… like helping someone was a reflex for her.
Even in the heat of competition, she helped a rival out. That’s what made me start to like her.”
Silence punctuates my words. Seyoon is stiff, like she’s not breathing. At some point, I leaned in. I watch her watch me, uncaring for once of the others and the cameras circling around us for several long moments.
Adin hiccups—and it rips me from the trance I had tripped into.
“Holy crap,” he says. “That is so romantic.”
Garrett erupts into cheers from where he’d sprawled across the pool table. I expect Blake to yell at him for ruining her scene, but she’s too busy fist-pumping the air behind the couch.
“Beautiful, you two!” she shouts. Loose silver hairs fall carelessly across her bright face, her usually perfect bun now falling apart on her shoulders. “Yes, yes! Okay, let’s keep this energy, everyone. Siddharth, I have a question for you to ask the group now…”
Blake expertly directs the rest of the scene, her enthusiasm bleeding into the following conversations about family, each of our hopes, what we stand to lose if we’re cut from the game.
Questions—and their heavy answers—that would usually have me on the edge of my seat.
Having this information about my fellow competitors is crucial, so I try tirelessly to tune in.
But it’s impossible with Seyoon’s incinerating, weighty stare on me.
I’m snapped back to reality when it’s Vendredi’s turn to answer a question. She looks miserable, still nursing a headache and leaning heavily on the arm of the couch.
“No, I actually don’t care what my mom thinks about me being here,” she sighs. “I’m not interested in fulfilling a family legacy or anything like that. I’m doing this because it’s my dream to be an actress.”
On the opposite couch, Carter scoffs. “What a shallow answer.”
Vendredi stills. “Excuse me?”
“Your mom is the whole reason you’re here, and you’re not going to give her any credit?”
Vendredi leans forward, gripping the sofa arm. “You don’t know shit about the situation between me and my mother.”
Blake creeps up on Carter’s side. “Ask her to explain,” she says like the devil over his shoulder.
Carter crosses one leg over his knee. “Then, explain it to us.”
Vendredi is clearly restraining herself. I glance between her and Carter, then the cameras. Which are, thankfully, finally off us.
Her voice is steady when she speaks, but heavy, like the calm before a storm. “You think you know who Mariah Dillworth is because you watched her on television. Well, I don’t care how good of a player she was. I know how terrible of a mom she is. And that’s none of your business.”
Carter gives her a once-over, his long nose scrunching with distaste. “No one here cares if she was a good or bad mom. What we care about is how entitled you are to not acknowledge that you’re only here because of her.”
She shoots up to stand, face twisted with fury.
“What are you going to do? Hit me?” Carter drawls. A small smirk ghosts his mouth. “That wouldn’t be a good look for you.”
Everybody stays still, even the crew members.
Vendredi clenches her fists. Unclenches them.
“I’m leaving,” she spits.
Blake tries to stop her, but Vendredi steps to the side and exits the rec room, slamming the door behind her.
Siddharth is the one sitting closest to Carter. He turns to him and shakes his head. “Dude. What’s your problem?”
CONFESSION TAPE—Carter Moxley, Contestant
Blake said the most entertaining performance wins a clue for tomorrow’s challenge. Was that or was that not entertaining?
I’m not going to apologize for playing the game, even if it hurts people’s feelings. Come on. Some of us have a million dollars to win.
The air is heavy. The cameras keep rolling, but none of us says anything. Carter ignores Siddharth entirely, continuing to pick at the threads on his pants. Eventually, Garrett hops off the pool table and joins us.
“I can’t take it anymore. That must be enough footage, right?” he asks. Blake sighs.
“Yeah, it was. Alright. You’re all free to go. Except you—” She points at Carter. “I want you in the confession booth now while everything is still fresh.”
Seyoon’s up first, on her feet and out of the room quickly.
As others move to leave, I follow her, past the cafeteria and onto the porch.
Night has fallen fully by now. There’s just enough light emanating from the cabins to make out Vendredi sitting by the empty bonfire pit.
Seyoon jogs toward her. More hesitantly, I join.
Vendredi’s leaning over her knees with her head buried in her arms. She turns when she hears our shoes crunching in the grass and quickly wipes her face. She’s been crying.
“Oh. Hi,” she says.
I don’t know how to comfort somebody in need. I never have. What’s the right thing to say in a moment like this?
Seyoon crouches next to Vendredi. Curious, I watch, wondering if she’ll try validating her feelings or maybe start by telling her everything will be okay. Seyoon waits until Vendredi sits up enough to meet her gaze. Then she smiles and says just one thing.
“Want to pull a prank on Carter with me?”
A beat of quiet. Then, a laugh barks out of Vendredi. She sits up fully, and even in the dim light, I can make out the genuine smile carving a spot on her face for the first time tonight.
“Hell yeah, I do,” she says.
I huff in amusement, my eyes glued to Seyoon.
Yeah. Helping others really is like a reflex for her, huh?