Page 13 of The Final Rose

“I don’t know these girls, Callie.”

The way he says my name makes a chill go up my spine. I don’t know if he ever said it before. I don’t care about the way it makesme feel. And I hate-hate-the delicious sound the syllables make in his mouth.

Because I’m Callie Sosa and I refuse to dwell on how a man pronounces my name, I force a reply through my dry mouth. “You knew the drill.”

I hate myself the second the words are out. We all know the first elimination is based on appearances only. Sure, we can edit enough interactions and interviews to weave some kind of narrative, and the public will know a little about the girls and hopefully get their favorites. But the people who are here in real life?

The days are long, but they don’t have time to talk organically. I know Sebastian probably can’t tell the girls apart or remember all their names.

It’s an overwhelming experience, and the thing is,we want him to be overwhelmed. This show is a game. It toys with the girls, and it toys with the Eligible.

The only reason I’m ok with it is because of what I just told him.He knows the drill.Each one of them is a consenting adult of sound mind who has watched many seasons ofThe Final Rosebefore.

Sebastian looks away from me, raking his fingers through his soft-looking hair. “I just rang Maverick to make sense of things.”

I nod. It’s not exactly a crime to want to talk through it with a friend, but to the network’s lawyers, it is an infringement of the NDA.

“I get it. But if you do it again, your ass will be sued.”

He lets out a raggedy breath and I almost pity him. “I know, I know!” His palms are up in defeat. “I’m just…”

And I do the unthinkable. I feel bad for the hot guy.

“You can call me next time.”

Sebastian’s eyes raise to fix on mine, his expression as surprised as I feel when the words escape my lips.

What an idiotic suggestion.

I’m ready to back out of it when something crosses his eyes. A little twinkle. “Would you answer my call?”

“I just said that.”

“It was late at night.”

I groan. “How late?”

“Late. It was an ordeal.” He can’t hide his smirk.

“I’m regretting it now. Forget what I suggested.” And to break eye contact, I resume walking.

He follows me, though. “Don’t think I can forget such a heartfelt offer.”

“It was heartfelt. I’m helping you avoid a lawsuit. I’m probably your best friend.”

“I don’t doubt it. Maverick only sends me flowers. What good does that do?”

I press my step forward toward the back of the mansion. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t think flowers are good for anything.”

“Aren’t you the most romantic? Now tell me, wouldn’t your boyfriend be cross if I call preposterously late every night?”

I laugh, shaking my head, “Shameful, really.”

“What?” he asks with a straight face.

“You’re trying to pry into my life.”

“I’m only trying not to step on anyone’s toes.”

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