Page 109 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
I can practically hear Elena talking to the crew. “We need the audience to see how much this group connects.”
The girls trickle in slowly at first. This time a little more polished than usual, as if the invitation said cocktail party instead of last rose standing. They ease into the room like it’s a friend’s loft apartment, posing with glasses of wine and clutching their sides in laughter.
Everyone’s dressed up just enough to look effortless.
I relax against the giant L-shaped sectional as a couple of girls sit at the other end, leaning close to whisper conspiratorially. Nobody wants to seem too eager, even though that’s the whole point of why we’re here.
I’m trying to melt into the cushions when I spot Wren arriving.
She appears in the doorway, framed by the dim light and the shadowy background of the hall. She’s in soft black. Nothing flashy, but she looks beautiful. Simple. Unapproachable.
I grit my teeth.
She’s been doing this all day. Sending signals, then clamming up and keeping her distance. Playing this maddening game of push and pull that’s driving me insane.
She pauses as she comes in, scanning the scene with those unreadable eyes. My pulse picks up and I shuffle a little, half expecting, half hoping she’ll make a move my way.
Wren seems to spot me, but it’s like nothing registers on her face. She just gives a slight shrug, like she’s got no idea I’m even here.
She heads for the far end of the room, her chin up, making a point to sit as far away from me as possible.
Elena calls out across the room. “Wren! Sit beside him, would you? Everyone move over and make room.”
It’s an order. Not a request. Elena’s eyebrows arch with expectation as she gestures insistently to the cushion on my left, the empty spot beside me that might as well be blinking with neon arrows.
Wren hesitates, caught in the spotlight, while Heidi dramatically scoots closer on my right. She smirks as she stakes her claim by practically gluing her thigh to mine. Her perfume hangs thick in the air.
I start to feel like I’m trapped in the world’s most awkward sandwich.
Wren’s face flickers with something. Indecision, maybe. Frustration. Then she lets out a sigh so quiet it’s almost inaudible and gives a small nod.
She finally sits next to me with a silent huff. So close yet so far away. Her body stiff, tense. A tightly wound coil ready to spring at any second.
Her leg bounces once, then goes still. She looks everywhere but at me, like the candles and cheese trays have suddenly become wildly interesting.
I shuffle uncomfortably, caught between the jubilant giggles on my right and Wren’s icy indifference on my left.
We start talking, though it’s more like a play. The kind the producers want us to perform, complete with a suggested script and prompt cards.
The cameras hover nearby, eager for a soundbite, as we throw ourselves into the kind of forced conversation that’s supposed to seem deep and interesting. About love, about life, about dating in the public eye. It’s all calculated to sound breezy and intimate and relatable, but it’s anything but that.
The phrasehockey god’s girlfriendcomes up, just like I knew it would.
I cringe so hard my entire body tightens, retreating instinctively behind a gulp of wine.
When someone says that dreaded phrase, Wren glances at me with a sideways look. Just briefly. A quick flash of something. Then she smothers it with a nonchalant shrug and turns away, feigning indifference like it didn’t mean anything at all.
I know it’s only a matter of time before someone derails this cozy little chat we’re supposed to be having.
Heidi doesn’t bother with subtlety.
She turns to me halfway through a bite of cracker and says, “Are you ever gonna kiss me, or are you scared I’ll be too good at it?”
Someone hoots. A few of the girls chime in with catcalls and teasing nudges, egging Heidi on with barely suppressed giggles.
I shift uncomfortably, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, and look toward Elena. She’s nodding emphatically from behind the cameras. All “do it for the footage.”
I know there’s no escaping this moment.
