Page 87 of The Final Rose

I left the house with a soccer jersey, denim shorts, and a ponytail. I was thinking about how much I wanted to see Sebastian. How much I missed that stupid face of his, but I completely forgotten that it wasn’t just me who watched the season finale.

The paparazzi spot us, and I curse when flash burns my retina. The first picture of me is probably of my shell-shocked expression over the dashboard.

Ben pushes the truck forward, seemingly not scared of running people over. They probably got the message by the scowl on his face and let us go, even if at snail pace.

A man a head taller than everyone else parts the crowd like Moses, and I breathe easily when I see Antonio’s familiar face. He shoos the reporters, a snarl on his lip, and Ben follows his directions to park in front of the mansion.

Without taking his eyes off the front door and his hands from the wheels, my older brother asks, “Are you ready?”

No.

No, I’m not ready to have my picture plastered in every shitty magazine tomorrow morning. I’m not ready to have them speculate about what Sebastian Riggs saw in a girl with a ponytail and Colombia’s national team jersey.

But I’m ready to see him. I need to see him. I nod numbly.

“I’m going to open the door and help you out,” Dario says. “You hold on to me, ok?”

I look up at my younger brother and try to feel secure about his words. Ben and Dario are here. Antonio is just outside, shooing people and keeping them away from the passenger door.

Sebastian is inside.

“All right.” I agree and grip his arm.

Once the door is open, I waver. The flashlights are blinding, their voices yelling on top of each other.

“What are you going to say to him?”

“Is it true you were having an affair way before this season?”

“What do you have to say to the contestants who fell in love with Sebastian?”

I don’t answer any of their questions. I can’t. I’m overwhelmed and confused. I look down and follow Dario’s steps as he followsAntonio’s. Ben magically appears behind me, and I hear him stopping one reporter and another when they venture too close.

It’s a short walk, but it takes forever.

They ask things repeatedly, and not all of them make sense. Not all are flattering, not all are about love. I tune out and look down at my shoes. When I go up the two steps to the main door, I breathe in.

Dario takes my arm and hauls me through. Ben is right on my heels, and then the noise is gone, the flashes stop and there’s finally silence.

I look up and I see all my friends.

I stumble back, but Ben holds me by my shoulders. Around the main shooting area is a small crew, cameras, sound, and assistants, and they all are smiling at me. David, the cameraman, gives me a thumbs-up from behind the equipment. Doris is at the back, smiling big.

I stay frozen, looking at them, an impossibly big lump stuck in my throat.

Devi comes closer, greeting me quickly before he starts to mic me. My mouth is opening and closing like I’m a fish. I let him run the wires under my clothes when Nessa comes along, her eyes full of tears.

“Just relax and don’t look at the camera, ok?”

“Nessa…” I’m able to say. But that’s it.

She smiles at my inability to talk. “Don’t talk too fast. David and Gary are working on A and B, ok?”

I don’t point out she’s the one talking fast now. Devi moves behind me, hooking the mic on my shorts. Nessa is giving me the basics that we run through with the first-timers. I never thought I was going to be on this side of the conversation.

My eyes must tell how scared I am, because once Devi is finished and gone, Nessa takes my hands and squeezes between hers. My brothers are not beside me anymore and my hearthammers inside my chest. I wiggle my hands in front of my body, and I catch Jeff making a face. I laugh, knowing I am ruining the shot if I don’t quit fidgeting and brushing my clothes on the mic.

I never saidIwas camera-ready.

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