Not my chair.
Not my house.
This is not my house.
I can’t do this.
I need to leave.
“We’re just about to start.” Drew adjusts one of my curls to lie more naturally on my shoulder. They put a glaze on my hair as they styled it this morning to make my normally mousy brown hair more ‘TV-ready,’ whatever that means. I don’t hate it. It helps me pretend that Onion isn’t Ariana. Onion isn’t afraid. Onion just wants to meet Sax.
“Just pretend like no one else is here.”
I struggle not to roll my eyes at the Beta. Like I’ll be able to forget that I’ve got cameras trained on me from all angles.
“Alright, roll camera.” The assistantdirector calls to start filming. Bridgette adjusts in her chair, pasting on a beautiful smile.
She’s stunning, precisely the type of woman you’d expect to see on television. Her hair is deep chestnut brown, and it is so shiny, so smooth, that it looks like she’s a living photo from a magazine cover. Her pale brown eyes are wide and expressive, taking up a large portion of her face. She has a small, upturned nose and plush, full lips. Her long, beautifully bronzed legs are on display in a tight red dress, and even though the room is full of people, I can still pick out her sugared berry scent. She must be wearing scent-enhancing perfume because it’s strong for a Beta.
Next to her, I’m self-conscious in my black jeans and sapphire blue blouse. They told me I was supposed to look casual, as if I just arrived on set, so even though I spent two hours in hair and makeup this morning, I have a casual, girl-next-door look.
Whatever that means. Any girl can live next door.
I’m wearing enough makeup to avoid washing me out, but it should still look natural and soft on camera. The type of makeup that men mean when they say “I don’t like a girl who wears a lot of makeup.”
“Well, Ariana, welcome toKnot What You Expected!I gotta know…” She leans over like she’s telling me a secret, and I angle my body closer to hers. “Is this what you expected?”
It’s the same line at the start of every first interview, every season.
I’m supposed to play everything up for the camera. Drew and I had a long conversation about how the most important thing I can be is the three f’s: friendly, funny, and fuckable. That’s what makes for good reality television.
How do I appear fuckable when I’m a virgin?
How can I be funny when I’m scared that bumping into the wrong person is going to be a death sentence?
I guess I have to shoot for friendly.
“I don’t know what I expected, honestly.” I’m hoping my smile isn’t a grimace, but the way her eyes tighten at the corners isn’t promising.
“That’s a valid reaction. This is a new experience for you in more ways than one, right?” I nod, and she doesn’t give me a chance to answer verbally. “I know this is your first time out of your home in a long time. Are you comfortable talking about that with us?”
No, I’m not comfortable with that. What makes her think I would be? Is it the way I cried when I got on the plane? Perhaps how my makeup artist had to reapply my makeup three times because I wiped it off and hid in the shower to scream?
But I don’t have a choice. This was another of the network’s non-negotiables. I have to talk about it.
Why did I agree to do this? Why didn’t I call Sax and ask to meet?
Fucking Marlie.
They want me to lay my trauma out like a TV dinner, and I’m going to do it.
All to meet Sax. It’ll be worth it.
“Sure, Bridgette. It’s a bit of a long story. My brother, Calvin…”
Bridgette interrupts me. “That’s former socialite and influencer Calvin Drevin, right?”
“Right. I sometimes forget that’s how everyone saw him. But he wasn’t any of those things to me. He was my big brother and my best friend. When he died, I didn’t handle it well.”
