Page 50 of The Billionaire Love Match

****

“HOW BAD IS IT?”

Amanda started with the bright side, which Casey knew meant that it was very bad. She had shut herself in the phone room the day after the ceremony after sleeping in late. She was getting tired of avoiding the common areas in the house that were always on camera, but more tired of the four walls of the room she shared with Tessa. It had been weird to talk on the phone the first time, knowing everything was recorded. But she was so used to the cameras and just assuming people were watching that it didn’t feel strange at all.

“Well, you’re still getting lots of press, which means your followers are growing rapidly.”

“But?”

“It’s a big but.”

“I’ve seen the new hashtag. Basket Casey. Clever. I can handle it. I know I’m not crazy. Wait—is that the first sign? Denial?”

Amanda did laugh now. “I’m glad you still have your sense of humor. You seem to be wilting week by week on the show.”

Wilting was an understatement. She felt like the cracked and broken ground underneath a wilted plant.

“It’s draining. That’s not even scratching the surface. It sucks. Also, I’m glad you’re watching, but it’s also humiliating.”

“I know. It’s almost over, though.”

“One way or another.”

“Do you not think you’ll end up with Colt?”

Casey thought about the constant fluctuation in how she felt. Not about Colt—the moment she kissed him in the bathroom, something flipped for her. As stupid as she knew that sounded. As much as she would tell Amanda she was nuts if she said the same thing. Maybe Basket Casey was the perfect name.

The ups and downs were more about Colt and how he felt about her. The show did an amazing job of keeping them apart, it seems. Even with the other girls, contact was so limited that it was hard to imagine the show ending with a real relationship. More than simple attraction.

Which they more than had. But was there more?

Something had her holding on, but she had so little faith in people or romantic notions.

“I don’t know, but I’m betting it all on black.”

Amanda laughed. “I miss you. Our apartment is so lonely.”

“It’s only been like three weeks.”

“Two. I might get a cat.”

“Don’t you dare. You know I’m allergic.”

“Fine. But seriously, hang in there.”

“How are my parents handling this?” Casey asked.

“Your mother called to say that you should wear your hair down more.”

Casey snorted. “And my dad?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I haven’t talked to him. Just your mom.”

“Okay. Wait—Amanda, was there more?”

“More what?”

“Than the hashtag? Surely you weren’t hesitant to tell me that.” Silence dragged out over the line. “Amanda.”

---