Chapter 4
Chapter Four
“We’ve got to go,” Michael rushed through the kitchen, kissing the top of my head.
“I just need to find a different shirt.”
He grinned. “What you have on is fine.”
But it wasn’t fine. I couldn’t explain it, but I had to find that shirt. I couldn’t remember which one, but I’d know it when I found it. I tore through all my drawers, my pulse spiking as the internal clock in my mind kept counting down.
Finally, Michael came back into our closet, gripping my arms. “Calla, we have to go. It’s been an hour.”
I looked at the clock on the wall in a panic. “But it only felt like thirty seconds.”
Michael shook his head. “Let’s go.”
All of a sudden, we were in the hallway in front of our apartment, headed for the elevator. As soon as he pushed the button, I cried, “Wait!”
“We have to go,” he said.
“I forgot my bag!” I exclaimed, racing back into the apartment.
Instead of the apartment I shared with Michael, I entered my current studio. Thinking nothing of it, I tore through the place, checking every corner for my missing...What was I even looking for again? My heart rate continued to rise as I searched fruitlessly.
The door slammed and Michael stood there.
“I’m still looking,” I said, flustered.
“It’s been hours. It’s too late now.”
“But. . .”
I jerked up, soaked in a cold sweat. Even in the darkness, I could tell I wasn’t in my own bed. Jumping to my feet, I took in my surroundings in a panic before the past two days came slamming back into me.
“The show,” I whispered, clutching my chest.
Sitting back on the bed, I concentrated on taking deep breaths, willing my rapid heartbeat to slow. Once I had successfully calmed myself down, I remembered what had woken me up in such a panic in the first place.
I could never rid myself of these intrusive nightmares. And yes, I called them nightmares. Because even though nothing scary took place, my body’s visceral reaction was the same as if I had just fallen off the edge of a cliff. When I started having to sleep without Michael, I had gotten them almost nightly. We were always going somewhere or trying to leave for something, although I was never quite sure where. And I never found out, because we never made it.
The pillow behind my head felt too plush and the scent was unfamiliar. The alarm clock by the side of my bed informed me it was only three a.m. I stared at the ceiling, already knowing I wouldn’t be falling back asleep. Especially not with the looming uncertainty of tomorrow’s first challenge weighing heavily on my mind.
During my interview yesterday, they had asked me a dozen times how I was feeling. They were clearly trying to get a specific answer out of me, but I apparently wasn’t providing it. Part of me just wanted a script, so I could do exactly what they wanted and get out of there as quickly as possible.
A familiar burning sensation stung behind my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to soothe it away. I’d have to see my fellow castmates for breakfast first thing in the morning. I refused to be the girl with perpetually red-rimmed eyes that nobody asked about, but everybody pitied.
“You’re going to do great today,” Brady chirped, all too cheerful as he led me to the dining room that was through a short hallway just off the main lounge.
“Um, is this just breakfast, or is this part of the show?” I asked, hoping to at least have a peaceful morning.
Brady chuckled. “Everything is part of the show. Sure, there will be competitions, but the conversations and relationships with the other contestants are what viewers want to see.”
Meaning every movement I made would be watched.
Great.
“Relax, everyone is going to love you,” Brady insisted.
Only if everyone didn’t mind a contestant whose whole personality screamed stiff and uncomfortable.
Right before we entered the dining room, he spun me around and tugged some of my hair from behind my back, pulling it forward. They had begged me to wear it down this morning, and since I clearly wouldn’t be writing today, I figured I’d let them win this battle.
“Perfect,” Brady said before stepping back and pointing to the entryway. “Go get ‘em.”
I stepped through the door. A long wood table was in the middle of the room, with four chairs on either side. All four guys were already seated. I was the first of the girls to arrive.
“Morning,” I said.
They all said their hellos.
“How did you sleep?” Eli asked.
“As well as can be expected,” I said, walking around the table.
Each guy had a seat open next to him. By the way Eli nodded at the chair to his left, I got the sense he wanted me to join him. But as soon as Arnie waved, my anxiety melted away. I pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.
“I slept like shit,” he whispered.
I laughed and turned toward him. “Same. I’ve been up since three.”
“You might have gotten an hour more than me,” he said. “I kept convincing myself the challenge today would be something horrendous, like facing a pit of snakes or something.”
Covering my mouth, I laughed at the visual of Arnie battling a pit of vipers. When I looked up, Eli was staring at me and frowning. I hastily turned my attention back to Arnie. The clear disappointment in Eli’s face must have been my imagination. Why would he care if I sat next to him? We had barely spoken for fifteen minutes yesterday.
“We’d be lucky if it were snakes,” Danny grumbled. “It’s going to be a hell of a lot worse than that.”
Grant made a face. “Worse than being covered in snakes?”
“They’ll probably make us talk about our feelings, or some shit.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Eli said dismissively.
“With a history like yours, I would have thought that would be your worst fear too,” Grant said, chuckling at his own joke .
Eli scowled at Grant. “You don’t know everything about me.”
“Morning.” Trace’s bubbly voice carried through the room.
“Hey,” I greeted her as she took the seat across from me.
“How are you feeling today?” she asked as the guys continued to make guesses about the first competition.
“I’m hanging in there,” I said. “You?”
“I’m pretty excited. I could hardly sleep, thinking about everything that’s going to be happening today.”
I poured myself some coffee from a carafe in the center of the table. “I got no sleep either, but for entirely different reasons,” I said.
As we continued to chat, Rachel and Sofia made their entrances and sat next to their respective partners. Sofia rested a hand on Eli’s shoulder before leaning in to whisper something in his ear. When she pulled back, giggling, I couldn’t help but feel a hint of annoyance.
Someone from the catering staff came in and wordlessly sat down plates of food in front of us.
“So,” Grant said, still chewing the enormous bite of eggs he’d just taken. “We should get to know each other.”
Rachel and Danny both groaned.
“I’m good,” Danny said.
“No, come on,” Trace insisted. “Let’s do an icebreaker.”
Eli nodded. “I’m in.”
Trace held up a finger. “Okay, first question. We’ll start easy. Who signed you up?”
“My mother,” Rachel grumbled.
Everyone went around the table answering the question before it got to me.
“My sister,” I said. There. That wasn’t so bad. I could be open and get to know these people .
“Okay, next question,” Grant continued. “Why did they do it?”
My face froze while he rambled on about being a misunderstood playboy.
Crap, what should I say?
Sofia started talking about having her heart broken by some married European millionaire, while I wracked my brain trying to think of a way to phrase this without going into detail.
“My mother is constantly after me to settle down,” said Danny. “She says she’s sick of me taking too many risks. She wants grandchildren.” He said grandchildren as if it were a dirty word.
“My mom is the same way,” Rachel said in agreement. “Says I’m too focused on dancing and my career. According to her, I’m going to wake up one day miserable and alone. I’m only thirty!”
“My mother doesn’t think I could land a man to save my life,” Trace joked, her tone not quite masking the sting I’m sure she felt.
“Um, my last relationship didn’t end on great terms,” Arnie said, with a gulp. “My sister just wants to help.”
“What happened?” Grant demanded.
Rachel glared at him. “He doesn’t have to share if he doesn’t want to.”
“That’s literally the whole point of this,” Grant argued.
“It’s alright,” Arnie continued. “She cheated on me. And I took it pretty badly.”
There were some apologetic murmurs and my heart ached for how sad he looked. Then it was down to Eli and me. When I remained silent, he cleared his throat.
“I’m here because I guess my dad is ashamed of me. ”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I swore he was looking only at me when he answered.
Now there was no hiding. It was my turn.
“My sister just wants me to be happy too,” I started carefully. “Since my last relationship ended two years ago, she just wants me to move on.”
Trace’s eyes shone with sympathy. “Oh sweetie.”
“What happened?” Grant asked.
My spine stiffened at the completely normal follow-up question. Maybe it was best to treat it like ripping off a Band-Aid.
“My fiancé died,” I blurted out.
Silence fell over the table except for the sound of a piece of silverware clattering against a plate.
I stuck my chin out and made an effort to meet everyone’s eyes, more determined than ever not to appear pathetic.
“Oh my God, Calla, I had no idea. I’m so sorry,” Trace said.
Arnie bumped my arm with his and shot me a smile that made me feel less alone.
“I’m okay,” I lied. “It’s been two years.”
Eli had his gaze fixed on me. Except this time when I met his eyes, he dropped them to his plate instead of continuing to stare. Guess that was enough to scare him off. A quiet girl was only interesting and mysterious until her hefty baggage came to light.
“What happened?” Sofia asked. “Ouch! Did you just kick me?”
“I’ll do it again if you don’t keep your big mouth shut,” Rachel snapped.
The table remained quiet for a few seconds longer than what could be considered comfortable.
It always felt like my job to say something in these moments, to absolve people of the discomfort they felt after learning about my grief. I didn’t have it in me today, so I just sat there silently and stared at my plate, my already-minuscule appetite having completely vanished.
“So,” Danny finally said. “Seems like I was right about forced conversation being worse than a pit of snakes.”