10. The Urge to Puke （and the Terror of Actually Doing It）
Selene
Jessica: Good luckkkk, rooting for you xx
Me: Obviously.
Jessica: [photo]
Me: Was that really necessary?
Jessica: A "Team Willers-Dusk" pin? Absolutely yes! Wait until you see my bet on how long it'll take you guys to sleep together...
Me: Are you kidding me?!
Jessica: Absolutely not! The Elm Hollow website has a Haunted Spurs Fantasy League!
Me: I'm blocking you and finding a new agent. I just have to decide in what order.
Jessica: I know deep down you can't live without me! XD
I feel exactly like I did when I was about to sign my first publishing contract.
I remember having this ferocious nausea, a knot in my stomach that kept pulling tighter and tighter during those long, endless silences. I'd held it together right up until the last second, only to bolt to the bathroom and puke my guts out the minute the ink dried on the page.
Well, I really hope I don't puke today.
It would be incredibly embarrassing to do it on live television.
I feel a sudden touch on my arm.
I stiffen instinctively, but the heat seeping through the fabric of my dark sweater is so solid, so reassuring, that my muscles surrender almost immediately. I hate physical contact. I loathe it. But this touch... I hate this one for a completely different reason. I hate it because I like it.
Why the hell does Ron Willers have to have this effect on me?
I tear my gaze away from the imposing iron grates of the Haunted Spurs gates and turn toward him.
His hand is still resting gently on my forearm.
Ron smiles at me. He has the exact same happy, enthusiastic puppy-dog face as his Labrador, Ollie, who is sitting right by his side, wagging his tail so hard he's kicking up dust from the driveway.
"Relax," he murmurs. "It'll be fun."
"I am relaxed," I snap back. Too fast. Too bitter. Too tense even for my own standards.
His thumb moves slightly against my arm. I hold my breath, terrified he's about to pull his hand away. But he doesn't. His thumb strokes the knit fabric in a light caress.
I hate how much this tiny gesture calms me down. The oppressive nausea is still there, lurking at the base of my throat, but... the icy vice around my lungs loosens. I can breathe now.
"Sure!" He exclaims, his smile widening, taking my grumpiness in stride with his usual ease. "Of course you aren't tense. I just meant... if you happened to be, in some parallel universe, you'd have absolutely no reason to be. Everyone out there loves you."
"Everyone loves you, Ron. Not me," I shoot back, crossing my other arm over my chest like a shield.
"Have you read the articles this week?" he counters, leaning in just a fraction to catch my eye. "Your fans are thrilled. Social media has been going crazy ever since the trailer dropped."
"I stopped reading the articles," I lie under my breath. Or rather, it's a half-truth.
When Jim and I broke up, it was an absolute media shitshow. He started giving endless interviews, going on podcasts, and selling out the details of our breakup just to scrape together a few followers and stay in the spotlight.
I, on the other hand, did the only thing I know how to do: disappear.
I hate being the center of attention. I didn't even respond on social media to defend myself against his toxic little digs.
I just left little black hearts on the comments from my most loyal readers, the ones who sent me sweet messages or defended me in the comment sections of tabloid posts.
Jessica stuck her neck out for me, too. She released a ruthless, flawless statement in my defense, but...
she's my friend. And she's my literary agent.
"Well..." Ron's voice suddenly goes much more serious, much deeper, pulling me back to the present. "Just know there are a lot of people out there rooting for you. And I'm really happy to be doing this reality show with you."
He drops his hand from my arm to brush the brim of his hat in an almost nervous gesture.
The spot where his skin pressed against mine goes cold instantly. I already miss his touch.
Christ, I'm pathetic.
"I'm serious, Selene," he continues, and his tone comes out a little rushed, like the words are tripping over each other trying to get out.
"I've always appreciated you so much as a writer, right from your first book. But over this past month and a half... I've started to appreciate you more and more as a person, too. Not that I didn't before, obviously! I mean...
not that you've ever really given too many details about yourself so I could get to know you deeply. You're locked up almost as tight as Grant is, and that's saying something, but there's something about you that..."
"Why are you telling me this?"
I cut his monologue off sharply, almost ruthlessly.
I sound defensive, I sound like the usual cold, standoffish Selene. But the truth is, he doesn't know me at all. He's talking nonsense. He only knows a tiny fraction of my awful personality. His words are just meant to soften me up and make me emotional.
And I can't afford to get emotional.
Not here. Not with him.
"Because it's true, and I figure someone ought to tell you," he states, with that blinding optimism of his that doesn't seem to give a damn about my walls.
Ollie steps forward and gives Ron's hand a small, affectionate nudge with his snout. Ron looks down, gives him a scratch behind the ears, and then looks back up at me with a smile, that dimple popping on his cheek. "See? Ollie feels exactly the same way."
I shake my head, rolling my eyes, but my lips betray me. I can't stop myself from smiling. Ron catches it instantly, and the flash of pure triumph that crosses his gaze tells me exactly how pleased he is with himself.
Meanwhile, the crunch of footsteps on the gravel announces the arrival of the other contestants.
I look around, suddenly hyper-aware of the space around us.
At least we didn't get the wrong day... it's a ghost town out here.
No sign of the crew. No sign of Aunt Tina.
Shouldn't there be the usual, overflowing chaos that Elm Hollow is known for?
Or, at the very least, an army of cameramen, boom operators, and producers ready to mic us up?
"No one else here yet?" Levi's cheerful voice breaks the silence. He steps up beside Ron and claps him amicably on the shoulder, while Emma, wrapped in a pastel yellow sweater, stops right next to him. She and I lock eyes and give a small wave, exchanging a silent greeting.
"So it's not just me who thinks this is weird?" Ron replies, returning Levi's shoulder pat with a handshake.
"No, guys... this is absurd." Carolina and Indya walk up at a brisk pace.
They're both wearing high-waisted jeans and fitted t-shirts that hug them perfectly, looking like they just stepped out of a Texas tourism commercial.
Carolina looks around, frowning, hands planted on her hips.
"Are we sure there hasn't been some kind of mistake?"
"What mistake could there be?" Indya counters, checking her phone screen. "The day and location look right to me. The email from production was pretty clear."
"Yeah, but... I was on Summer Lovin' this summer," Carolina insists, gesturing to the empty space around the massive iron gates. "This is absolutely not how Elm Hollow handles its reality shows. Usually, there's a marching band, a buffet, Francis, the mayor, and the whole damn squad!"
"Everything okay, guys?"
Four new figures join the circle. It's Sam and Katherine, followed closely by Josh and Lizzie.
"We were just saying how weird it is that... there's no one here to welcome us," Ron comments, turning to the newcomers. As always, he slips right into the group dynamic with disarming ease; it's like he was born to be the social glue holding people together.
"Well, hey there! Aren't you just a handsome boy!"
Completely ignoring the conversation about the mysterious production crew, Josh lights up.
He flashes a smile that shows off two magazine-cover dimples, crouches down, and starts vigorously petting Ollie.
Lizzie, the brunette who I think is his girlfriend, can't resist the Labrador's charm either and drops down to give him some love.
I don't follow hockey, but... I seem to recall reading some headlines about a fierce past rivalry between the two of them.
Seeing them now, crouched on the ground baby-talking a dog, makes the idea of the "terrifying NHL captain" seem pretty ridiculous.
"Yeah... but shouldn't there at least be cameramen?" chimes in the girl with the brown braid and oversized gold wire-rimmed glasses. Katherine, the archaeologist. She studies the closed gate with a critical eye. "Or someone to give us directions?"
Her boyfriend, Sam, shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. "It's a small-town reality show... maybe they just have a more chill, laid-back approach."
Carolina bursts out laughing, a clear, ringing sound that echoes against the iron gate. "No, guys... trust me. Around here, things are usually anything but chill."
"Can confirm," Levi echoes, nodding solemnly. "We were on Summer Lovin' too, and it was completely unhinged right from minute zero."
I nod to myself. Yeah... even I’ve heard how much of a stir past reality shows have caused in this town. I've even replied to a few social media posts talking about Sebastian and his read-alouds of my monster romances... it was fun, I’ll admit.
"So... what do we do?" Emma interjects, chewing on her lower lip, her eyes darting nervously toward the imposing house in the background.
"Is everyone here?" Josh asks, standing back up and dusting off his jeans. He starts counting us with his index finger, doing a quick scan of the group. "Looks like we're still missing a few people, judging by the intro videos... speaking of which, great job guys, I loved them."
"They were a blast to shoot! Great job on yours too, man. Straight out of Hollywood," Ron replies, reaching out to give Josh a high-five.
While they chat, laugh, and mesh together perfectly, I start to shrink into myself. I feel exactly like a fish out of water. The buzz of their voices, the group's energy... it's all too much, and it makes me want to retreat.