And for a moment, I think that he’s going to. Tension crackles between us, as if lightning is about to strike the very spot where we stand.
But before Nolan can reply, a coy feminine voice from behind me shatters the silence, and my stomach drops like a fucking anchor.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Molly.
I whirl around to see her leaning against a stainless-steel counter, her short black dress hiked up higher than I’d like to see, and a pair of red heels dangling from her fingertips. A male PA stands beside her, looking miserable and holding a plate of food.
“You aren’t supposed to be out of your room,” I say, my tone hostile. I eye the PA and decide now is an appropriate scenario for me to pull rank. Mostly because it’s my job…but also because I want to get back to what I had been doing before this disaster in heels walked in. “Thomas—it’s Thomas, right? Why is this contestant out of her room?”
“Uh, the ship doctor said to get her fed. She drank too much after the elimination ceremony.”
“So, she’s got her plate of food. What are you still doing here?” I look expectantly between the two of them, fully aware of my tone. Molly has hopped up on the counter, a haughty look on her face as she eyes Nolan up and down.
I want to claw her eyes out.
“Glen also told me to find someone to film her bringing her food back to the room. I guess Duncan plans to intercept her, and Glen wants to get it on tape.”
“Well, I don’t have my camera on me,” I lie, subtly trying to block out the giant tripod and Sony XDCAM standing like a damn monument behind me—and not an easy one to miss. “I mean, I do, but I’m busy filming other stuff.”
“Oh, yeah? Whatstuff?” Molly asks. She slurs her words just enough for me to know she’s been drinking, but I don’t miss the challenge in them.
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” I hiss. Nolan gently touches the small of my back, and I try to rein in my rage. “Anyway, I’m just a B-cam. I don’t do contestants unless I’m given permission. So, you’ll have to talk to Glen or Demi. Whereisyour producer, anyway, Molly?”
“Oh myGod, Chloe, get a grip. How should I know? She doesn’t even give a shit about me.”
I snort. She’s half-right.
Demi cares about what happens to Molly, but only because it’s tied to her own reputation and performance. That’s it. She doesn’t care about Molly’s feelings, and it’s becoming clearer by the day that Demi doesn’t just dislike Molly; sheloathesher.
Not that I blame her.
“Chloe, can you just—” Thomas pipes up haltingly, his eyes pleading. “Please, can you just help me?”
I’m so angry I could scream. I desperately want to get back to what Nolan and I were doing—or, about to do—but the despondent look Thomas gives me hits me square in my stupid bleeding heart. It’s the same look Sora had on her face when she was floundering in the hotel lobby. And the same look I’ve seen on the faces of countless other PAs and camera assistants this week.
It’s the look of total desperation.
I sigh defeatedly. “Alright, Thomas. Let me pack up here.”
“Are you serious? Oh, thank you, Chloe! I really didn’t want to wake up one of the guys.”
“Mhmm. I’ll meet you in the hall in a few.”
Pure relief washes over his face, and he shoos Molly toward the door as she shoots him an icy glare.
“Don’ttouchme, Tristan.”
“It’s Thomas. Chloe literallyjustsaid my name!” he hisses under his breath.
Before Thomas can get her out the door, though, Molly turns on her heel—stumbling slightly—and points one perfectly manicured finger my way.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you’refuckingship staff.” Molly’s harsh words hit me like daggers, and an ache blooms in my chest. “I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules, last I checked.”
Her venom retreats just as quickly as it appeared and a too-sweet smile spreads wickedly across Molly’s face. She blows Nolan an exaggerated kiss.
“Nighty-night!”
