Page 13 of House of Desire

“I did have someone, though. Do you think we only get one shot at this thing? Maybe I used my chance up on someone who,”—I struggle to find the words without spilling my entire sob story—“didn’t want me, in the end.”

Dating experience is not something I have a lot of. And my brief foray into online dating when I returned from House of Deceit didn’t go well. As I would sit with girl after girl at dinner listening to their stories, my mind would turn back to the place that always wondered if Brittany and I were supposed to be together or if circumstance just pushed us together.

Charlie gets off the bed and moves over to me, wrapping her arms around my middle. My arms go around her automatically and I rest my head on top of hers, which is hard considering she’s taller than most women.

“You didn’t use up your chance, Parker.”

“Well, you did pick your wrangler over me, so I don’t know if that’s true,” I joke.

She pulls back from me and gently flicks me on the nose. “We weren’t really dating!” she says, fake outrage coating the exclamation.

“My heart didn’t know that!” I protest, grabbing my chest like I’m in pain and falling on the bed. “Call the paramedics. I think I’m dying of a broken heart.”

“You’re so dramatic, you oversized Viking man.” She falls onto the bed next to me, giggling.

I’m lucky to have Charlie as a friend.

Basically, everyone called me crazy when I came home and told them I wasn’t going to pursue Charlie in the real world. No matter what I said, they didn’t believe me that it was all for the show. Is she gorgeous? Absolutely. Was I attracted to her initially? Yes. I think most people were. But there was one day when we were talking on the sun bed when she mentioned Alec and I saw it. I saw the spark I felt when I first met Brittany. Back before she pulverized my heart into such small pieces you’d need a microscope to see them.

Which always seemed amazing to me. The pieces were so small and yet the pain felt as though I was buried alive. Every time I would open my mouth to scream, the dirt would fall in, further suffocating me. Being in the mansion during filming was the first time it felt like the pressure was starting to ease.

“I’m going to miss you,” Charlie tells me, knocking me with her elbow.

“You know I’ll miss you, too.”

Jacob Jacobson sits in the makeup chair next to me, a man I never thought I’d see in person again. His perpetual tan makes him glow even though it’s May and the day is cold and rainy. My skin feels itchy in the unfamiliar routine. The pressure of day-to-day life fading away into a new pressure of picking the right person settles on my shoulders.

Rain splatters against the tent roof where we are getting ready before filming starts. The hairstylist stands behind me, trying to tame my hair into a more manageable mane, the humidity making their job harder.

“You can pull it back, if that’d make your life easier,” I tell the person after they have struggled for a good ten minutes.

“Unfortunately, they want it down for the first night. They feel like it will make you look more debonair,” they say. I can see the stylist’s trepidation, but I’m sure they are up to the task.

“I didn’t realize you were going to be the host this year, Jake,” I say, trying to make small talk with the man beside me.

“It was a last-minute change. The usual host was moved to a morning show for the duration of her pregnancy. She didn’t want to travel since she’s in her third trimester,” he says as the artist pats powder around his face. “Too bad about a few years ago. You would have been a phenomenal winner for Deceit.”

“Thanks. I’m glad it was Charlie, though, since it wasn’t me.”

A production worker pokes their head into the tent, warning us there is only thirty minutes until we are needed.

It’s amazing how different this show feels than House of Deceit. With that show, once we were in the house, we never saw any production members except our assigned wranglers. But even before we made it to the house, the number of people we met from the show were minimal.

But with this one? There are all sorts of assistants rushing around for their given department. Not only that, but I’ll be living separately from the women in a pool house behind the mansion.

Desire also doesn’t have live eliminations. Nothing about this show is live due to the filming schedule. One week to the audience will only be five days to us. While intense, it allows for filming to only take nine weeks instead of twelve.

The schedule sounds grueling, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

Once Alec confirmed I would be the new lead, I watched a few seasons of House of Desire to determine what I was in for in regard to the dates. Over the course of nine weeks, I will be dating twenty women who will be competing to be the flame of my desire. Their words, not mine. There will be group dates and competitions for solo dates. And many meals where we aren’t allowed to eat because no one looks attractive eating. And then, at the end of the week, I’ll send home one lady.

Tonight, I have to meet all twenty contestants, speak to everyone during what will probably end up being a ten-hour cocktail hour, and then I will send home five women. I’m not quite sure why I have to get rid of five people right off the bat, but this was a sticking point with the show. I suggested keeping the majority of the ladies until we hit week six and then kick seven people to the curb. By then, at least, it wouldn’t be a snap decision, allowing everyone to settle into the show and show their true colors.

But they wouldn’t hear of it.

Once my hair is complete, the stylist switches places with the makeup artist. She stands in front of me, her hand under my chin turning my face this way and that. I’ve long gotten used to the random touching from strangers before being on TV.

“You have a gorgeous bone structure,” she tells me before grabbing her brushes.

---