Page 24 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
I pause. It’s not that she’s not pretty. She is. But I already know this isn’t going anywhere. She has a moral code that doesn’t jive with mine.
“I’d rather not,” I admit.
Her lips stay puckered for a beat too long. Her eyes flicker with disappointment before she covers it.
It’s not her fault. She came here hoping to fall in love with a handsome hockey player. To win. And all I can give her is a camera-ready peck and an apology I can’t say out loud.
“Thanks, Ryan,” she says. “I look forward to spending some more time with you.”
Like hell.I nod. “Thanks for tonight.”
As I stand, I glance once more at the camera crew. One guy gives me a thumbs-up, like I just nailed a scene. I want to tell him this isn’t a scene. It’s real for her. It’s completely fake for me.
It wasn’t a disaster. She was polite about our obvious differences. But it wasn’t a connection, either.
And in a few hours, I’ll be back under the lights, handing out roses.
She walks away thinking this is a win. That I’ll keep her around. In the long run, we have different priorities. And let’s face it. I’m not worried about Trinity.
If this is what the next few weeks look like, I’m going to need stronger coffee. Or better lies. Because if they think I’m going to fall for someone like Trinity, they haven’t been paying attention.
Rich appears at my elbow with that fake producer smile. “Great date, Ryan. We need to talk about tomorrow’s group date. There’s been a change of plans.”
seven
WREN
By noon the next day,I’m the opposite of cool. I’m tense, anxious, and halfway unglued. I stare at myself in the three-way mirror of the wardrobe room and have a minor freak-out. Or major, depending on how good your self-esteem is normally.
God. Am I really going through with this? I think about how I’ve been assigned to fawn over Ryan and my neck heats.
This can only go badly.
“Are you sure this isn’t too much skin?” I call to Jennifer, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing a full-length tulle skirt, a black crop top that says PRINCESS across the chest, spike heels, and the ever-present black choker.
My hair is fuller and shinier than it’s ever been. My skin glows. I look… not like me, but like a version of me from a parallel universe where I got enough sleep and had a personal stylist.
I should feel like an impostor. I should feel like a fraud. But instead, I kind of like it. The heels make me feel taller. The skirt hugs my hips just right. There’s something bold in my reflection I’ve never seen before. I don’t fully recognize Mirror Wren, but she looks like someone who gets what she wants.
I’m not used to this much skin. Or sparkle. Or attention. My usual look is “invisible intern,” not “backup singer at a royal wedding.” Right now, I look like I’m either about to strut down a runway or start a riot. I don’t even know which.
Jennifer stands behind me, clucking her tongue.
“It’s perfect. I know you can’t see it, but you’re really pulling it off. I’m not ever going to lie to you about that. You have a banging body.”
My cheeks heat. “Thanks. You too, obviously. I mean, look at you.” I gesture at her little blue dress.
She chuckles. “At least someone appreciates it. Now, come here.”
She crooks a finger at me and leads me back into the crowded dressing area where the other bachelorettes are milling around. Jennifer steers me to an unoccupied vanity, grabs a little pot of silvery highlighter, and brushes it along my cheekbones and the tip of my nose. I wrinkle my nose, but she just grins.
“You look perfect,” she declares. “Really gorgeous. I’m sure you have nothing to worry about tonight.”
The word gorgeous doesn’t fit me. It’s like a borrowed dress. Pretty, but not mine. Not meant to stay.
It’s only week one out of eight. At the rose ceremony at the end of each week, Ryan will line up the bachelorettes and eliminate one or more of us. Supposedly, he has a lot of say over who stays and goes. And I already want to crawl into a prop closet and stay there until filming wraps.
A snort escapes me. “The bachelor hates me. Like, literally. I’ll probably make the cut, but it doesn’t mean anything. Trust me.”
