Page 122 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
RYAN
The helicopter rideto the resort feels like it lasts forever and no time at all. I’m sitting across from Wren, pretending to look out the window at the coastline below while really watching her reflection in the glass. She’s gripping the armrests so tight her knuckles are white. I want nothing more than to reach over and take her hand.
But there are cameras rolling and Elena is sitting right next to the pilot, occasionally turning back to check on us with that predatory smile of hers. This whole setup screams manipulation, from the romantic sunset timing to the overnight bags the crew loaded without asking what we wanted to pack.
“An overnight escape with Ryan.” That’s what the date card said. Like we’re going on some dreamy romantic getaway instead of another carefully orchestrated scene in Elena’s twisted love story.
The resort comes into view as we descend. I have to admit, it’s impressive. Infinity pool, private beach, the kind of place that costs more per night than most people make in a month. The producers aren’t messing around with this one.
We land on a helipad that’s been decorated with rose petals and candles. Because of course, it has. Elena’s nothing if not thorough in her pursuit of maximum cheese factor.
“Welcome to paradise,” the pilot announces as we touch down.
Wren shoots me a look that says “kill me now” and I have to bite back a smile. At least we’re on the same page about how ridiculous this is.
Elena climbs out first, gesturing for us to follow. “Ryan, Wren, welcome to your romantic overnight date. You have the entire resort to yourselves until tomorrow afternoon.”
The entire resort. Jesus. I knew the show had money, but this is next-level.
“The dining room has been set up for a candlelit dinner,” Elena continues, checking something on her clipboard. “After that, you’re free to explore. Your rooms are on the second floor.”
“Rooms?” Wren asks. “Plural?”
Elena’s smile sharpens. “Well, yes. We can’t very well put you in the same room, can we? What would the viewers think?”
Right. Because heaven forbid the audience actually believe we might want to sleep in the same bed. That would be too real for reality TV.
“The cameras will be capturing your dinner and some ambient shots around the property,” Elena goes on. “But you’ll have plenty of private time to… connect.”
The way she saysconnectmakes my skin crawl. Like our relationship is just another plot point for her to manipulate.
“Any questions?” she asks.
“How long do we have before the cameras start rolling?” I ask.
“Fifteen minutes. Just enough time to freshen up and get into character.”
Get into character. As if my feelings for Wren are just another performance.
Elena and her crew disappear into the resort, leaving Wren and me alone on the helipad. The sun is setting over the ocean, painting everything in shades of gold and pink. It would be romantic if it weren’t so obviously manufactured.
“Well,” Wren says, adjusting the strap of her overnight bag. “This isn’t subtle.”
“Elena doesn’t do subtle.”
“The woman once told me to cry prettier for a confessional. Prettier. Like my tears weren’t aesthetically pleasing enough.”
I laugh, despite the tension coiling in my shoulders. “Rich told me to look more conflicted during last week’s rose ceremony. Apparently my face wasn’t conveying enough inner turmoil.”
“Were you having inner turmoil?”
“About sending Raven home? I don’t know. I guess.”
Wren’s expression flickers with something I can’t read. “Right. Raven.”
There’s an edge to her voice that makes me pause. “What about Raven?”
“Nothing. Just… you two seemed close.”
