Page 129 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
I sitin the confessional chair, arms crossed, watching the producer across from me with what I hope looks like my usual cocky smirk. The lighting in here is harsh, designed to make people look vulnerable and exposed. It makes me feel like a bug under a glass.
I’ve let three more girls go in one ceremony: Heidi, Divya, and Whitney. Letting Divya go was a huge weight off my shoulders, even if it wasn’t what the producers wanted. But now I’m left with three finalists.
JacqLyn, Nikki, and Wren. I think the producers are expecting me to pick Wren at this point. What I don’t know is why Rich is being so nice about it.
There are only two weeks of the show left and suddenly I can’t tell what’s real anymore.
“This is starting to feel like an interrogation,” I say.
“Just a check-in. The audience is really invested in you and Wren.”
I clock the way Rich keeps glancing at his notebook like he’s checking off boxes. Not a check-in. A setup.
“Yeah?” I lean back, stretching my arms behind my head like I don’t have a care in the world. “What’s the verdict?”
Rich tilts his head, studying me with those beady eyes that remind me of a hawk circling prey. “They’re wondering if it’s real.”
I roll my eyes. “Define real.”
And there it is. The real reason I’m here. The trapdoor under the chair creaks open.
“Are you falling for her?”
The question hits harder than I expect it to. I open my mouth to laugh it off, to give him some charming nonanswer that’ll keep everyone guessing. But the words get stuck somewhere between my brain and my throat.
Rich watches me, waiting. The silence stretches longer than it should.
My knee bounces once, then twice. I stop it. I don’t want to give anything away, but my body already has.
“She’s a pain in my ass,” I say finally.
His grin spreads wider. “That’s not a no.”
I don’t respond. Can’t respond. Because the truth is sitting right there in my chest, heavy and undeniable. I think about her all the time. The more I try not to, the worse it gets. I’m not about to hand that over to these vultures.
“Let’s try a different approach,” Rich says, flipping through his notes. “Tell me about last night. The overnight date.”
My jaw tightens automatically. “What about it?”
“How did it go? Any… developments?”
I know what he’s fishing for. He wants me to spill about what happened between Wren and me on that balcony, in my room, in the hours when the cameras weren’t rolling. He wants details he can twist into whatever narrative Elena’s cooking up.
“It was nice,” I say carefully. “We talked.”
“Just talked?”
“Is that a problem?”
Rich laughs. “Of course not. It’s just… the viewers are expecting more. You two have so much chemistry. They want to see that connection deepen.”
My throat goes dry. Jay’s going to see this. He’s going to see all of it.
Chemistry. Like what’s happening between Wren and me is just some chemical reaction they can manipulate for ratings. The thought makes me sick.
“Maybe the viewers need to be patient,” I say.
“Patience doesn’t make for good television, Ryan.”
