Brooke doesn’t look surprised.
This is standard reality show stuff. I should quiz all three of them, act conflicted, and then keep one for drama. But I clear my throat.
“I’m opting to send you home.”
Brooke looks stunned. “But I thought we were connecting!”
“I realize I’ve reached the end of the road with you.” I shrug. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t even get to finish before Brooke flips her hair and storms off in a fury.
I’m very careful not to look at Wren. But it’s hard.
I know I shouldn’t care what she thinks. But I can feel her gaze burning into me as she witnesses my charades.
What would she say if she knew how I felt?
sixteen
WREN
We finally wrap filming around11 p.m. Everyone is pretty tired. We all veg out for a few minutes in the living room without saying a word to each other. Eventually, I head upstairs and change into my pink silky shorts and white tank top. Then I grab an Atlanta Ice Storms hoodie and pull it on, zipping it quickly.
I keep replaying the way Ryan looked at me during the challenge. There was something hot in his eyes. Curious. Like he was starting to wonder who I really am.
Who am I? That’s the question. I feel like I’ve been changing, molting, like I’m almost ready to emerge from my cocoon.
Wait. Did I just compare myself to a butterfly? I really must be out of my mind.
I lie down on my bed and try to read a little, but my mind won’t stop spinning. Mostly, I’m thinking about Ryan. The way he looked at me right before I took the cold plunge. Like he saw straight through me.
My brain won’t stop spinning. I need quiet, I need stillness, but mostly, I need to stop remembering the way his eyes tracked me like I was something worth seeing.
No one’s ever looked at me like that. Of course, the one person who finally does is my big brother’s best friend. One man that I absolutely can’t have. Figures.
I sit up and decide to take my book downstairs. A few people are still watching TV in the living room. Ryan is nowhere to be found, which kind of makes sense. He’s probably not looking to hang out with one of the bachelorettes right now.
I scrunch my face and try to think of where I can go, somewhere without cameras but with good light. Somewhere comfortable. Like the confessional trailer.
It’s only a few steps from the house. It’s fully powered. I climb the steps and flip the lights on. At one end of a long modern pink couch, a huge lens faces it. That’s where we’re supposed to sit and relay everything that’s happened to us each day. So far, I’ve only been in here once, but I’m sure the producers will start dragging me in soon enough.
I close the door behind me and settle on the couch. There are a lot of snuggly pillows. I prop myself up on them. At first, I look at the camera, remembering every stupid lie I’ve told in confessional. But then I open my book and try to relax.
I manage maybe two pages before I hear the door creak open. My heart leaps into my throat, but I should have known who it was.
Of course, it’s him. Of course. My pulse taps a frantic rhythm as he closes the door behind him, sealing us inside.
Ryan. The only person who might be gently stalking me.
“I figured you were out here somewhere.”
I lick my top lip and look at him. Silence stretches between us. He doesn’t come closer. Just stands there, watching me.
I’m not exactly sure what he wants.
I exhale. “You sent home two girls.”
“I did.”
