‘Wow, thanks,’ I laugh nervously.
‘I meant that as a compliment. Sometimes I just sound sarcastic,’ Whit insists. ‘It’ll be alright. She’ll come around and realise you were just trying to help.’
I worry at my lip, still tender from where Carys playfully bit it last night.
Will she tell them about me and Warren? It’s not like she can prove anything, and if she wants to beat us, she needs me to stay in the experiment.
But then if she did tell production I was a girl-kisser, that would unleash too many questions that might taint her own image.
God, I wish I knew what the fuck was going on.
‘Hey, tell me what’s going on with you?’ I ask Whit, eagerfor distraction from my potential impending outing. ‘You get to see Malachi last night?’
Her face lights up. ‘Oh did I!’
‘Okay, hello! Tell me more.’
Her shoulders soften as though she’s just stepped into a warm bath. ‘He’s so beautiful, Dolly. And he is such a kind soul that I really did not care what he looked like because I was already gone. But it doesn’t hurt that he looks like a bit of me, you know what I’m saying.’
I pull her into a hug, more for me than her. ‘I’m really glad for you.’
‘Thanks, beauts.’
As we break apart, I notice the ache in my arms from less wholesome activities last night. Perhaps I should be doing more weights. Maybe these gym girls I’m surrounded by are onto something, not that I suspect any of them are doingexactlywhat I did last night.
Not that I plan on having sex again any time soon, especially not with Carys fucking Cadwallader.
‘Who are you thinking about?’ Whit’s eyes sparkle with mischief, and I’m just about to splutter an excuse when she asks, ‘WasWarrenall you ever hoped for?’
How to answer that? Yes, he’s the perfect fake-husband-to-be (provided he proposes). He’s objectively handsome. Do I feel anything remotely sexual towards him? No. Looking at him is like looking at a really good statue in the Walker.
‘Babe, he’s a basketball player,’ I say, hoping this will carry me far enough. I think back to the many photos of the WNBA players I’ve seen over the years for what attracted me most. ‘Thosearms.’
She sucks her teeth. ‘I knew it. Iknewthat voice was the voice of a hot man.’
‘I can confirm.’
‘Do you know if he saw anyone else?’
I hesitate because I’m not supposed to know that he’s also seeing Priya and Niamh, but I wheedled that out of him. And as good as it might be for the show to stir up some jealousy and drama, the last thing I need is any more of that.
And as if on cue, in walks Carys with Reb in tow. For some reason, Bridget is also with them, her head high like she’s a teacher about to bust me for bunking off for a fag behind the sports centre. Carys’s head is low, her face smudged in pink and red like she’s been crying. She and Bridget hang back, while Reb walks over to me with a harried look. ‘Hey, Dolly, can you come with me for a second? Louise wants to talk to you.’
I follow Reb through to backstage. I just about manage not to look at Carys until we are level, and she flashes the quickest sharp smile at me from behind her mouth.
What the hell am I walking into?
Reb leads me out to the small kitchen area to wait for Louise, and as I take a seat, I can’t help but notice one of the doors a little away from me open and close. Through the gap, I see a flash of screens, at least one for every single date cubicle, plus several angles in our living quarters.
‘Hey, babe,’ says Posh Louise, sliding into a seat next to me. In her hand is a gigantic insulated cup with theWedded Blisslogo on the front.
‘Hiya. No day off today?’
‘What’s one of those?’ she says with a sigh. ‘We’re all stationed down the road so if anyone has a crisis we can come get you.’
‘Am I having a crisis?’
‘You tell me.’ She takes a long sip from her jug.
