Page 34 of House of Desire

“Wow, that’s impressive,” I say. “When did you decide to become a nurse, then?”

I feel bad for grilling her about her background, but the more I learn about this woman, the more interested I am, and the more questions I have.

“I was an intern and one day we were doing rounds. And there was this kid having blood drawn. The nurse was telling him a joke to distract him. Logan was afraid of needles and needed to be distracted, too. And it just reminded me of how much time the nurses spent with Logan. How they’d bring him things to play with. They always spent the most time with us and I realized what I wanted to do. I switched tracks that day.”

"That was brave of you to make that change." The music catches my attention, one of my favorite slow songs. “Will you dance with me?” I ask Carmen, standing and setting my wine glass down on the bar so I can hold my hand out in invitation. Her smile is bright.

“I’d love to.” Her hand is soft in mine. She stands and I lead her to an open spot on the floor, pulling her into my arms.

“I’m going to admit, you’ve snuck up on me,” I say as we sway to the music.

“Snuck up on you, how?”

“I didn’t really think I was going to end up having a crush on someone here.” Everything I learn about Carmen makes me feel more and more drawn to her. Anastasia’s honey brown eyes and smile flash through my mind as Carmen’s fingers play with the ends of my hair and I want her to run her fingers through it, but she restrains herself.

“Parker, are you telling me you have a crush on me?” she teases.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” This time, I don’t care about the cameras. I press a kiss to her lips, keeping it relatively chaste. Her lips are pillow soft and I know, with time, I could become addicted to them.

We part. One of the members of production has been sitting off in a secluded corner and comes over to let us know our time together and out of the house is over. And I remind myself this is a show and at the end, I’m going to have to pick only one person.

Cut off at the shoulders in the short mirror, I try to tie the tie on the suit I was instructed to wear today. The wardrobe team allows me to be myself when it comes to clothes, for the most part, but sometimes, I have to dress according to the date we are going on.

“We will get to the field at eleven for the group date. The ladies will show up at 11:05. You will have six minutes to greet everyone. The girls will go off and get dressed for about twenty minutes and then we will begin the date!

“After that, you and the winner of the competition will get cleaned up and you will have a date with her. We will provide you a light snack. You’ll have, at max, two hours and thirty minutes with her. Like always, you can end the date whenever you’d like. You’re also allowed to eliminate her if you feel the need to do so at the end of the solo date.

“It tends to be very dramatic when it happens and the audience will love it when they see it happen to Lucy,” Philip says, ticking things off his list as I try to tie my tie while partially squatting.

“Got it,” I tell him simply, annoyed they’d think I would do anything just for ratings.

Once my tie is tied, I put my hair up into a low bun, the bane of the hairdresser’s existence. She offers to style it for me every day, promising to not make it look too done, but I just know it won’t feel like me, no matter what she does.

When it’s time, and to avoid seeing the girls before the date, Philip leads me through a back door to a gate in the fence, hidden by a faux wall production created. My car is waiting for me.

Inside the car are various cameras strapped to the backs of the front seats so I can film my thoughts before or after the dates, should the mood strike. Sometimes, they give me scripted things to say so they can cut them in where needed.

“Good morning, Parker. How are you?” the production assistant assigned to ride with me today asks, her Boston accent thick.

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

Luckily, she always gives me the Reader’s Digest version of her day before lapsing into silence. There are few things I dislike more than feeling like I have to fill the air with words. There is enough pressure on me to keep up the conversation during dates, the last thing I want to do is ride in the car with a constant diatribe.

We pull up in front of a local college’s football stadium and I wonder what they will be doing today. Without waiting for the driver to open the door, I get out of the car. It disappears the second the door slams and I make my way to my blue mark at the end of a red carpet.

Almost every date I’ve been on has involved a red carpet for the ladies to walk down. I think it’s incredibly cheesy, and probably a little bit of a pain for whomever has to deal with it, but I know there’s no point in my objecting. The show is going to do what it’s going to do. The thoughts of the leading man certainly don’t matter to them.

At exactly 11:05, the limo carrying Victoria, Anastasia, Mia, and Aisha pulls up. Anastasia is the first from the car, her long black hair swinging freely. Her smile is perfect, and pulls one onto my face every time.

I find no matter who’s in the room with me, if Anastasia is there, all I want to do is look at her. And talk to her. But the conversation with Carmen was so easy and flowed on our one-on-one date the other day, I was shocked when the date ended and I realized I had barely thought of Anastasia. Her perfume envelopes me moments before her arms do, pushing all thoughts of Carmen from my brain.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I tell her as I take a deep breath in, hoping we’ll be able to go on a truly solo date soon.

“Are you stalking me? You’re being really obvious about it. Stalking, by its nature, is a more low-key endeavor,” she jokes with a smile I want to kiss.

“Maybe I want you to know I’m stalking you, otherwise where’s the fun?” I say with a wink.

“I think staying hidden is the fun. But I wouldn’t know. You’re the professional here.”

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