This situation gets amilliontimes worse when Buckley extends the hand I refused to shake earlier. “Hi, I’m Buckley.”
The shock on Leo’s face is apparent. “Nice to meet you, Buckley. I’m Leo. Holden’s boyfriend.”
The downpour of awkwardness soaks through us all. Leo obviously wouldn’t expect this to be the same Buckley who dumped me and made me move out back in New York. Buckley obviously wouldn’t expect me to have moved on so quickly. Also, he’d have no reason to believe Leo is lying as part of an elaborate ruse we constructed to get on the show.
An immaculate, sticky spiderweb has been spun around me. I’m starting to think I won’t find a means of escape before the arachnid of my mistakes eats me for lunch.
The production assistant appears out of thin air and shouts right in my ear, “All contestants are needed on set for a safety walk-through! Again, that’s all contestants!”
We haven’t even begun rehearsing and this is already proving to be a shit show.
Twenty-One
The cotton-polyester blend of this shirt is warm under the bright television lights.
Leo and I have been taken aside into a smaller studio where two stools are set up against a green screen backdrop that unrolls in a smooth, clean wave. There’s a condensed crew in here with only one camera.
Two makeup artists check our foreheads and noses for unwanted shininess. I keep trying to catch Leo’s eye through the blur of hands and brushes, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t want to look at me. Both cause my hopes to droop.
“You have such amazing skin,” the tall man with swoopy hair doing Leo’s makeup says with a dash of flirtation, barely doing anything with his sponges to even Leo’s tone. “What’s your routine?”
“Washing my face and moisturizing,” Leo says with a half laugh and a one-shoulder shrug.
The makeup artist raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
Leo laughs harder. “I’m being for real. I wouldn’t lie about that.”
The guy’s painted-in left eyebrow goes, somehow, even higher. “I guess I’m just supposed to believe that you’re blessed then, huh?”
“In more ways than one,” Leo says back.
Jealousy mixes in with the bewilderment and upset already overwhelming me. In my pocket is the napkin Leo and I signed last night. It felt wrong to leave it behind in the hotel room this morning. I was too afraid Mrs. Min would see it or another housekeeper would throw it out by accident.
Besides, it made me smile. I knew today would be hectic. I assured myself that anytime I needed a pick me up, I could look at that crumply napkin and think about what was on the other side of this.
Now it serves as a wishing token—a physical reminder of how badly I wish I could go back to last night before complicated became downright convoluted.
“Hello, gentlemen,” says the breezy white female assistant director with auburn hair. “Once makeup is finished, we’re going to get some good banter out of you with some prepared questions. I’ll be back in about ten. Can I get you anything—water, tea?”
“Water, thanks,” Leo says.
“I’ll have the same.”
I knowMadcap Marketby heart. This is the part of the day where we film our package materials.
Some contestants share sob stories, others funny stories or heartwarming stories. I know, from us, they’re looking for a sweet, make-them-say-aw love story, and I’m sorely selling it short today. My smiles are mannequin-esque and my laughs sound waterlogged. We’ve had barely a second to pause, let alone have a decent conversation dissecting why Buckley is here and what we do about it.
As if they can hear my thoughts, the makeup team announce that they’ve finished. Before they disappear, Leo’s guy slips him a business card. “If you ever decide to come clean on your skin secret, hit me up.”
Leo pockets the card as the door closes.
I don’t think I expected him to throw it out. Or laugh it off. Or tell me not to worry. Except, in my right pocket, I’ve got that napkin! Which makes me feel a little stupid. It could’ve been a post-sex, post-burger haze we were stuck in. Buckley’s arrival might’ve knocked us out of it.
“He seemed nice,” I say, testing the waters. Not wanting to play this role but needing to say something that isn’t a swirling garble of gibberish.
“Really?” Leo asks, sounding annoyed, and again, I don’t blame him for that.
I take a deep breath before diving in. “Yes, that Buckley out there is my ex. No, I didn’t know he was coming out here or competing. You have to believe me on that.”
