Uh, what? A statement like that should have come with dramatic music—low strings, ominous drums, something that told the audience a dreadful plot twist was on the horizon.
But I didn’t have time to process it. Or hyperventilate. Because our “bestie” crew for the summer appeared out of the dark, laughing and waving like we hadn’t just been discussing my mythical doom.
“Hey, ladies!” Brinley shouted, arms full of blankets and snacks, leading the group of women.
I sat up and straightened out my pink flannel pajama top. Cassie had conjured me a new wardrobe full of pastels and bright colors. It felt more like me. At least I thought so. I still wasn’t sure who I was. But for now, I was faking being a best friend and cheerleader. Maybe if I faked it enough, the real me would appear. But I knew I would never really be myself without my heart.
And the thought that it really was Roman who was supposed to unlock it? I couldn’t deal with that. At least not tonight.
I mean, I’d signed a contract. A very clear, very binding contract that said I wouldn’t fraternize with any members of the crew. And I was pretty sure that included the host of the show.
Not to say I hadn’t broken a bunch of other rules, but that was beside the point. Roman and I, we just couldn’t be.
I plastered on a fake smile and waved. “Hello, girls!”
Cassie snickered beside me, fully aware that just days ago I would’ve chosen to muck out Pegasus’s stall over playing happy camper.
Brinley, Maggie, Paloma, and Jessica giggled and ran up the deck stairs, apparently accepting that Cassie was there first. We’d really sold the whole BFF-at-first-sight thing.
“Let’s get this party started,” Paloma purred in her sultry Spanish accent.
Every woman wore pajamas, from leopard print to polka dots and stripes. Each beamed, thrilled to be there. It reminded me that I had to do more than play a part. I’d started this so-called club, which meant these women saw me as their ringleader and friend. So I had to be a friend. I could do that. Right?
A lot of hugging ensued before everyone settled around the firepit, its flames flickering in reds and oranges, offering not just light but warmth.
I got sandwiched between Cassie and Maggie, the quietest woman in the group. She tucked a strand of short brown hair behind her ear, her Lucy Hale vibe understated but unmistakable.
I could read her emotions like a book. Maggie didn’t feel like she belonged here. She felt less than—less glamorous, less beautiful, less bold. She regretted applying to be on the show. But she wanted love. Wanted someone to share her life with.
Without thinking, I reached for her hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Isaid.
It wasn’t a lie. But the words felt foreign in my mouth. Not in a bad way. Actually . . . it felt nice.
Maggie gripped my hand and smiled.
“Thank you. You know, I took gymnastics because of you.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that, but it always meant something. Even now—when my feelings felt stunted, like they were stuck behind glass. When I hadn’t so much as touched a mat in years. Too afraid to be the girl I used to be.
“Really?”
“Yes. But I was awful at it.” She giggled, softly and self-deprecatingly.
I wanted to tell her the truth—that the only reason I was any good was because of the divinity running through me. But I also didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in Tartarus.
Before I could say anything, Jessica trilled from across the firepit, twirling her marshmallow like it was a microphone.
“Demi, you have to tell us what you’re doing here. Seriously, girl. All the boys wanted you back in the day. Even my high school boyfriend had a picture of you in his locker.”
I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Not exactly sure why I was here after my recent conversation with Cassie. Thankfully—or maybe not—Paloma jumped in.
“It’s getting harder out there, isn’t it?” she said, voice low and smoky. “It feels like no one can find love anymore.”
“Yeah,” Brinley sighed, her shoulders slumping.
Cassie gave me a sidelong glance, the kind that saw straight through me. She knew the increasing guilt I’d been carrying about the state of the world’s love lives. I couldn’t avoid the truth—I had hurt people. Even these women, who used to be just faceless names flashing across screens orbeing discussed in committees at the Bureau, waiting for approval or denial. I could feel their pain. It was almost tangible.
