Page 34 of Knot Just for Show

They funnel me onto the couch, one of the mobile camera teams setting down before us so close that I could kick the principal photographer.

“Er, well, there’s Ronan.” I wriggle uncomfortably between Brittney and Kara, hating myself for naming names—but unable to stop myself all the same.

“Eugh,” Kara groans—the other three girls making sour, scrunched faces.

I’m about to ask what’s wrong when Brittney volunteers, “Oh my god, that man is such damaged goods! He started trauma dumping like two seconds into our first date.” She gives a little shudder before looking at me.” But, I guess if the two of you are the types who are always looking for a ‘fixer-upper’ it would be a good fit,” she offers innocently, her tone patronizing but still aspartame-sweet.

I know that I shouldn’t care about what someone like Brittney thinks about me. That this kind of behavior from another adult woman just screams that she’s actually the one who’s insecure and a mess—not me.

Knowing that and feeling it are two very different things, however. My thinky brain may understand that Brittney is embarrassing herself on camera—being so outright nasty to mewhen I’ve done nothing to her. My lizard brain though? I’m in full on fight or flight—and in the claws of a predator like Brittney? I’m not trying to go head to head, I’m looking to make a break for it.

I sink into the couch, as if I can simply slip into the crevasse of cushions between Kara and Brittney and disappear from this nightmare scenario.

“Ok–but like,who else?” Kara pinches my arm less than playfully, and I actually yelp in surprise at the pain—drawing a chorus of cruel giggles from the rest of them.

I can feel my bottom lip wobbling, the salt of tears burning at the corners of my eyes—but I will not allow them to see me cry. I will not be undone by them in front of the cameras. I refuse.

“What about you, huh?” I laugh, so breathless that the sound comes out almost like a sob—my attempts at sounding casual and friendly all but dashed by the fragile, sorrowful sound. “Here I am—giving away all my secrets before I’m ready… I don’t know if I should say the rest.”

The smile stays on Brittney’s face, but the heat from her sparkling gaze is pure hatred. Her bimbos in waiting all exchange curious glances with one another before turning their faces to their leader—awaiting Brittney’s final word.

“But I asked you first,hon.” She grits through her toothy smile—an edge of warning in her tone as she tosses her blonde hair over one shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll tell ours after—for sure!” Jesse pipes in, quick to back Brittney up.

“Totally!” Suzi echoes, the flicker of hope that I might be able to escape from this trap without giving up my entire dating pool dying in my chest.

I narrowly avoid looking directly down the barrel of the camera lens in some kind of fourth-wall-breaking call for help,and do my best to keep my poise as I jump through Brittney’s flaming hoops of bullshit.

“Ash and Teddy,” I blurt the next two, hoping that I can just sprint through these answers and slither out of here.

I’m wondering how my strategy is going to fare until I see Brittney’s manic grin falter at the sound of Ash and Teddy’s names.

Shit. She’s going after both of them, isn’t she? We’re going down—mayday!Mayday!

“Wow, AshandTeddy?” She purses her lips in a nasty little smile, as if she’s holding back laughing out loud. “I…didn’t really think you would be each other’s type.” She sneers with poisoned sweetness, her eyes traveling up and down my body meaningfully as she speaks.

I have to roll my lips over my teeth to keep my mouth from trembling, my lashes fanning up and down too fast, trying desperately to keep tears from spilling down my face.

“A-and, Lysander, that’s it. Lysander makes five total,” I blurt, barreling onward in an attempt to keep Brittney and her committee of vultures off balance.

This draws a loud bout of laughter from all four other women on the couch. I blink, not quite yet understanding what this new cruelty is playing at.

“Oh mygod! Of course, if literally anyone is going to talk to the fuckingRain Manand decide to go on a second date with him—it’s going to beour little Ursula.”

Rage lights within me at her words, burning away my tears, my terror with anger–pure and searing.

“What the fuck did you just call Lysander?” I snap back, surprised with the venomous heat in my words.

All four women shrivel at the sudden appearance of my spine.

“I-I-I,” Brittney stammers, thrown off balance by my righteous anger.

“Rain Man,” I supply, wrenching my arm from her hands and shoving off of the couch—spinning around to face her and Suzi, Kara, and Jesse—the same women who had been preying upon me only seconds earlier now cowering under my severe gaze.

“Had to stop yourself from using another r-word, didn’t you?” I hiss just below my breath. I’m not wearing a lavalier mic, so this particular twist of the knife is meant for Brittney and her minions alone—the camera crew scrambling to get a shot of me facing the girls on the couch.

Brittney’s lips set in a grim line, and I can tell that she and I fully understand one another now.

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