Page 8 of Insta Bride

“What about the quiet one in the blue overalls, what’s her story?” I’d hoped it had been enough of a description.

No one had an opinion. It seemed no one had spoken to her and she hadn’t gone out of her way to approach anyone.

“Dunno why she hasn’t been cut, yet. Maybe she’s just making up the numbers for diversity.” Jason or James, or some J name suggested to nods all around.

Would Bree give me Flower’s number after the show?

If she did, would I use it?

No and Never

Australian Love Story Cast Leaks

He thinks he is famous. She saves lives for a living. Will our resident narcissist have his heart carved out by a woman who knows what she’s doing? Or will he be worth saving?

You’ll read it here first. This is Danielle Stone from Wake Up Australia.

Elena

At least I hadn’t gotten sea-sick on the ferry out to the Island. It would be just my luck to survive the audition process only to die from embarrassment.

I’d gotten more attention and smiles from the camera men trained to be invisible, than I did from the two women I’d been grouped with for the ride over.

They were more excited to be on the show than they had been to lose their virginity to a football captain and school captain, respectively. I only knew these important details because they couldn’t stop gushing on our boat from the mainland to a small island that the producers refused to name.

I listened, while the other two gushed.

How we’d drink for free for a whole month.

How their social media status would pay their way to fame and fortune. I didn’t want to burst their bubble, it would all come down to editing and quite frankly, I couldn’t tell them apart.

Barbie One and Barbie Two. Both siliconed to death through injection or implants, I didn’t know. But there wasn’t a natural hair on either of their bodies that hadn’t been dyed, extended, plucked, or waxed.

In comparison, I felt dowdy. I’d packed for comfort and lounging around. Their short bright pink and yellow dresses would make them stand out of the crowd—unless they were the crowd.

Perhaps, in a sea of women wanting to impress and shine, I’d be the one to find a spotlight in my faded grey-blue t-shirt and shorts?

I could only hope.

My friends understood when I handed over control of my social media accounts to the production team. I’d only get control after the finale. Fine. I hardly used them anyway. Still, I didn’t miss them until I couldn’t post.

Suddenly, I wanted the world to know about my chipped toenail polish and the fourteen types of gin on offer in the Brisbane hotel last night.

I didn’t drink gin.

But, if I had to keep listening to the Barbies, I’d be willing to learn.

“So, which one were you interested in?” One of the Barbies decided to reach out into enemy territory.

I kept it light and carefree, “I doubt any of them would be interested in me. None of them talked to me at the mixer.”

“Did you see Kye?”

“Who?” I hoped my answer hadn’t come out too quickly or too forced. I’d watched him watching me. Pity or disgust? I didn’t know and didn’t care. At one point, I thought he had started to walk my way, before he became trapped by three sets of perfectly exposed breasts. I mean, their nipples were hidden by fabric, but not much else. Even across the crowded room, his grey eyes met mine and I liked to think he’d raised an eyebrow in resigned annoyance.

Yes, I knew who Kye was. I even dared to assume he’d remember me—if he’d made the cut.

“There were so many hot guys at the mixer, how am I supposed to tell them apart?”

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