34. What if.?
Selene
"What are you going to do next? That's my question of the day."
We're all gathered here, sitting on the moth-eaten couches, waiting for a "very important event," or at least that's what the megaphone I absolutely loathe screamed at us.
Apparently, it's so important that we've been waiting for twenty minutes.
I look around: almost everyone is here, except Indya and Carolina.
I bring my attention back to the man sitting glued to my side.
"You mean... after Haunted Spurs?" I ask.
His hand is resting on my thigh. His fingers lightly grip the denim of my jeans, a distracted, rhythmic pressure that sends tiny electric jolts all the way up my leg.
I already asked my question of the day. His favorite holiday is Christmas. Should've guessed.
"Yeah..." Ron tilts his head, his blue eyes studying me with an intensity I can't quite decipher. "Are you going to stick around?"
"I-I... well." I lick my lips, suddenly nervous.
His thumb stops on my thigh. "Elm Hollow is a loud, nosy town, and the people here are completely unhinged... but it’s my hometown. When I moved back, I didn't do it with a clearly defined long-term plan, but... I think I might extend the lease on my apartment. Or maybe even...
look for a permanent house to buy."
"Seriously?"
His smile explodes. It is a smile so massive, so bright and genuine, that it could easily power the town's electrical grid for a month.
"Y-yeah." I swallow hard, the lump in my throat growing tighter.
Why are my hands suddenly sweating? I fold my fingers in my lap, trying to gather some composure.
"When I came back here, some people went really hard on me with the online comments. They wrote that I was washed up, that I was coming home with my tail between my legs... but to hell with them, it's my own business whether I want to live here or in a big city. With my job,
I can write from anywhere. And... I'm not a failure just because I chose to live in the place where I was born."
"Let them talk, Selly."
His grip on my leg grows a little firmer, an emotional anchor keeping me from sinking into my own paranoias.
"People are always going to do that anyway. Elm Hollow loves you, you can spot it from a mile away. And... if you're happy being here, you only need to listen to your heart."
He gives me a slow, gorgeous wink that sets my stomach on fire.
I shoot him a half-smile.
The silence between us lasts a few seconds. The group around us chats away.
"Selly?" he calls me softly, his voice raspy.
"Mhm?"
"I'm really happy you're staying."
Panic grips me instantly. A cold wave that clashes with the heat of his touch.
We are growing closer with every passing day, it's undeniable. But that... that doesn't mean it's a sure thing. And my survival instinct tells me to throw up my shield right now, before he can hurt me, before he feels trapped with me.
"Y-yeah... well..." I stammer, clearing my throat and straightening my back to pull away by a millimeter.
"Obviously, outside of here, the rules of our agreement apply. We... we don't have to keep doing what we're doing just because I'm staying in town. If you get tired of this when the reality show ends, or... if you want to end this thing between us... you can. No drama."
Ron freezes. His gaze grows more intense.
"And what if I wanted to keep going?" he counters, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
"I already told you I’d give you my all to making sure you don't break this pact. What if I wanted to do it even after we leave here, Selene? What if I wanted to keep bringing you coffee every morning? What if I wanted to come running with you? Find out what your favorite dish at Duke's is?"
My heart skips a beat.
"Are you just assuming I like Duke's?"
Now he's the one rolling his eyes with an exasperated grimace. "Everyone likes Duke's."
I can't stop it. A soft, surrendered smile paints itself across my lips. I look down at my folded hands.
"I think... I might want to keep going, too," I admit, in a whisper so faint I'm afraid he didn't hear it.
He heard it, alright.
His hand doesn't just squeeze my thigh. It slides. It makes its way to my inner thigh, gripping my flesh with a sudden, territorial, shamelessly possessive hold that steals my breath and sets my core ablaze.
"I'm glad to hear it, Queen of Darkness," he murmurs against my ear.
The moment of absolute perfection is obliterated in the blink of an eye.
John Carpenter's original Halloween soundtrack blasts from the living room speakers. The eerie, hammering synthetic piano riff makes everyone jump on the couches.
The double doors of the living room swing open with a theatrical slam.
Aunt Tina makes her triumphant entrance. She's wearing a shredded black tunic that sweeps the floor, her face hidden by a dark hood, and in her hands, she's gripping a massive, fake silver plastic scythe. She's dressed as the Grim Reaper.
"What the fuck?" I hear Lucien's deep, incredulous voice comment from across the room, perfectly summarizing the collective thought.
Behind Aunt Tina's grotesque figure, two shadows emerge from the hallway.
The eerie music fades into a background hum, but the air in the living room instantly grows heavy.
Carolina walks in first. She isn't smiling.
She doesn't have her usual runway strut or her mischievous gaze.
She is holding Indya firmly by the hand, gently pulling her under the cold glare of the spotlights.
Indya is devastated. Her face is pale, drawn, marked by two shiny tracks of freshly dried tears.
I feel Ron's hand instinctively tighten around my thigh. I lean a little closer against his shoulder.
Aunt Tina raises the fake scythe, lowering her black hood. Her face loses its sadistic, theatrical expression, replaced by an almost professional gravity.
"Citizens of Haunted Spurs," she announces, her voice echoing metallically. "The shadows have claimed another tribute. Indya is forced to leave the ranch and the game. Immediately."
A murmur of shock rises from the group. Emma claps her hands over her mouth.
Indya takes a step forward, letting go of Carolina's hand. She sniffs, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, and looks at us, one by one.
"Sorry, guys," she murmurs. Her voice cracks. "I just got a call from home. My horse, Midnight... is really sick. He has a severe case of colic. The vets don't know if... well, they don't know if he'll make it through the night."
The silence that follows is thick, respectful. Her horse is her partner, her family, her entire life.
Emma lunges forward without thinking and wraps her in a hug. Melusine, with her long brown hair flowing free, steps up and places a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it in silent female solidarity.
I pull away from Ron's heat, take two steps to close the distance, and place my hand over Indya's.
Our eyes meet. I give her a small, tight, but absolutely sincere smile.
I don't say anything, because I know that words are sometimes just useless noise, but she understands. she squeezes my fingers, grateful.
"Go to him. And root for us," Carolina whispers to her, hugging her tight before letting her walk toward the exit, escorted by two crew members.
When the front door shuts with a dull thud behind Indya's back, the focus of the room shifts.
Aunt Tina clears her throat, repositioning herself under the spotlight. Her diabolical smile stretches across her lips again.
"As the rules demand," she declares, raising the microphone again, "when one member of a pair withdraws, their partner is automatically disqualified."
Carolina straightens up. She swallows hard, disappointment clouding her gaze, ready to accept defeat.
The Grim Reaper raises a lethal, bejeweled finger.
"However..." Tina drops her voice. The red light of a camera blinks on, zooming in on the ex-princess's face. "Production has evaluated the impact of this loss. And, after a long, heated discussion in the control room, we have chosen to do what is best for the show."
Tina pauses, savoring the power. "Carolina, you are not eliminated."
Carolina's eyes go wide, her hand flying to her chest.
"We have decided to place your fate in the hands of those who truly rule this house," Tina continues, spreading her arms. "The sovereign audience! We launched a flash poll on the official app. The viewers at home will choose your new partner!"
As television adrenaline pumps through the living room, my gaze slides distractedly toward the dark alcove near the hallway.
Lucien and Melusine.
They're standing slightly apart from the others, in a shadow. He is standing behind her. It doesn't look like they are touching, but then I notice Lucien's massive hand sliding down Melusine's waist. He hooks his thumb through the back belt loop of her jeans, pulling her back against his pelvis.
Melusine flinches, arching her back just a fraction.
She doesn't pull away. She turns her head halfway, glaring at him with a look that oozes pure hatred, but her parted lips and hitched breath tell an entirely different story.
Lucien leans down, brushing her ear with his lips to whisper something to her.
"The poll is closed!" Aunt Tina thunders, brutally yanking my attention back to the center of the room.
She pulls a red wax-sealed envelope from her black tunic. The hum of the cameras seems deafening.
"The audience has voted," Tina murmurs, tearing the envelope open with theatrical care. She pulls out a black card. She reads it in silence. Her eyebrows shoot upward, a smile of pure, intoxicating disbelief warping her face.
"Well..." she chuckles into the megaphone. "It seems the audience of Haunted Spurs is very, very demanding. And decidedly irreverent."
Carolina furrows her brow. "What does that mean?"
Tina locks her eyes on her, vibrating with sadistic joy. "It means, Your Highness, that the audience petitioned en masse. They decided that a princess should never have to settle for just one knight."
The silence in the living room is so absolute I can hear Ron's heartbeat against my back.
"For the first time in the history of Elm Hollow reality TV," Aunt Tina yells, throwing her arms wide. "The audience has decided to join forces! Carolina... you will officially compete as a trio. Your partners are Cade and Cole!"
The living room erupts.
Cade and Cole make their entrance, swaggering out and taking their places on either side of Carolina.
"Apparently, Princess..." Cole murmurs, his voice cutting through the chaos, "the audience really wants to see us go for a ride."
Carolina is petrified for a nanosecond. Then, her face breaks into a smile that is the quintessential embodiment of sin. She bites her lower lip, staring at the twins with a look that raises the temperature of the room by at least ten degrees.
I let out an incredulous laugh, shaking my head, as Ron squeezes my leg, leaning down to whisper in my ear: "I told you this place was insane."