While I’m equally as frustrated about the interruption as it seems he is, I’m also slightly amused by his newfound exasperation. Before tonight, I had clocked Nolan as, well—sort of like a chocolate croissant. Sweet. Comforting. Indulgent.
But maybe there’s more spice to him than I thought.
SEVENTEEN
Chloe’s ‘90s Hits, Now Playing:
EVERYBODY WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU — SNOW
“Doyou think Carly isactuallyinto Duncan?”
Sora’s voice is far too perky for 6 AM. I consider asking her to share whatever uppers she’s hiding in that giant messenger bag of hers, as I lean in close to the mirror of my cramped stateroom bathroom and inspect the bags under my eyes.
Instead, I grunt noncommittally. I’m not even going to pretend to know where she’s going with this conversation.
“Or do you think Greta is helping Carly manipulate him into likingher,so that she doesn’t get kicked off at the next elimination ceremony?” I glance over to where Sora is sitting cross-legged on my unmade bed, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she stares at the wall, lost in thought. “That would make sense, actually. She hasn’t made headway with any other relationships, and I feel like Greta knows better than to wait for something to happen organically, you know what I mean?”
“Uhh…who?” I ask distractedly, swiping a glob of tinted sunscreen across my face and massaging it into my skin aggressively, as if the harder I rub, the more awake I’ll feel.
Sora frowns. “Carly. Greta’s contestant?”
“Right,” I say, unconvincingly. Sora’s frown deepens in disappointment as she shakes her head, as if to say,typical Chloe.
Which—rude.
But also…fair.
I assume Carly is a contestant, which would make Greta her producer, but the women still all kind of look the same to me: tall blonds in short dresses with similar-sounding names that were popular in the ’90s.
“You’ve got to start getting better at remembering the contestants and their producers, Chloe, especially since you’re a DOP now.” Sora stands up from my bed and crosses the room to lean against the doorway to the bathroom.
I make sure our gazes connect before I give her the most sarcastic eyeroll I’ve quite possibly ever delivered, and say, “Uh, yeah. Thanks,Mom.”
Bill, the DOP who had cornered Molly at the bar and laughed with her at me from across the deck, had been benched the day after that scene at the pool—he’d gotten drunk at karaoke night and said something dumb to a producer.
From what Sora’s heard, Glen hasn’t decided if he’s going to fire him or not, so, in the meantime, Bill’s been holed up in his room while I’ve been promoted. Not that Glen actually said the word “promoted,” exactly. Or promised me a corresponding pay raise. Or any other kind of job perks.
Instead, he just asked me to “take one for the team” and help with the extra workload by handling all the same duties a DOP would—filming confessionals, following contestants, and working closely with the producers.
I guess this is what Glen meant by wanting to be prepared for the worst. With Bill in TV jail, the crew would have beendown a DOP until the production company could hire and get someone out here. Now Glen looks like a fast-acting exec with a knack for noticing talent.
At least I no longer have to pretend I’m a potted plant when someone looks my way.
As much as I’m still annoyed with Glen—not just for how he treated me before filming began, but also forstillnot seeing my worth even now, with the extra responsibilities—I’mthrilled.
Because I finally get to leave this stupid fucking ship.
So, as it stands, Sora’s point that I may need to work on my people skills is, sadly, valid.
My phone vibrates on the tiny counter in front of me, rattling itself off the edge and nearly falling into the open toilet. I grumble as I pick it up off the floor, expecting Kyla’s name—I haven’t heard from her in a few days. But my expression changes as soon as I see who the message is from.
Nolan.
Our almost-kiss—and the unfortunate run-in with Molly—has haunted me all week. We’ve yet to pick up where we left off, thanks in part to his hectic work schedule, as well as a few late nights and very early mornings for me. But our flirting has evolved from handwritten letters on my breakfast tray to cute texts throughout the day.
NOLAN: I actually have a night off. You free tonight?
CHLOE: Only if you can give me one fun fact about yourself that no one else knows. Consider it my nextquestion.
