Ugh. How much longer is this interview going to be?
“Um, I don’t know. I heard he had a bit of a... reputation,” I said, trying to be as eloquent as possible.
“Describe what you mean by ‘reputation.’”
I wanted to groan in frustration. There was no such thing as a vague answer in these interviews. If you tried to skirt around the question, they would probe you until you gave the exact sound bite they wanted.
“Let’s just say he didn’t seem to be the type to be on a show about finding love. But when I talked to him, he seemed nice enough—like he genuinely wanted to get to know me.”
“Any interest in making Eli your partner?”
For reasons I didn’t quite understand, I felt vehemently opposed to that idea. Obviously, I found him attractive, and he was nice enough. But given his past...someone like that would chew up someone like me and spit out my bones beforeI even knew what hit me. I couldn’t let my guard down with him. Not the way I could with Arnie. He felt safe.
“I don’t think so,” I answered his question. “Arnie is my partner.”
Brady leaned in even closer. “And what do you think Michael would have thought about you being here?”
“Michael?” My throat constricted with emotion. Were they going to bring him up every time I found myself in one of these dreary rooms? The truth was, if some form of heaven did exist and Michael was peering down on me from up there, he would be completely bewildered by where life had led me lately. “I think he and Arnie would have been friends,” I said, feeling small. I had already found that when they turned to this topic of discussion, it was best to keep my answers as short as possible. I refused to cheapen Michael’s memory by sharing too much of him in this setting.
“Anything else?” Brady looked disappointed by my clipped response. Good. I hoped he realized he couldn’t just manipulate me into talking about whatever served his agenda.
“Nope.”
I stood and removed my mic before he instructed me to. My clothes, still muddy from the challenge, clung to my body in the most uncomfortable way and I itched to finally take a shower.
“Okay. Thanks for all that, Calla,” Brady said, standing. “You’re free to go clean up now. Don’t be more than an hour. We’ll have your dinner order brought to your room so you’re ready to mingle with the rest of the contestants after you’re done getting ready.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, brushing past him.
“Don’t forget to dress to impress,” Brady called.
The door to the small interview room closed behind me asI stepped out in a hurry. But before I could walk down the hallway, I collided with Eli’s solid frame.
He reached out to steady me. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Tailored black jeans clung to his frame. On top, he wore a dark green crew neck sweater. He looked like he belonged on some upscale street in Manhattan. A stark contrast from my dirty face and crusty clothes.
“Crap. I’m sorry. Did I get anything on you?”
He looked down between the two of us but didn’t step away. “I think we’re good,” he said.
“I need to get out of these disgusting clothes,” I said, bitter that the guys had already gotten the luxury of cleaning up.
Eli cocked his head with a twinkle in his eye as I realized what I’d said. “You know what I mean!”
“I don’t know,” he said, laughing. “I think they suit you.” Eli grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt and examined it. Even though he wasn’t directly touching me, the small gesture sent my stomach into a nervous flutter.
“I better go get changed. I’ll see you in there.” I sidestepped him and hurried away before he had a chance to say anything else. I flung open the door to my room and threw myself inside before closing the door firmly and leaning back against it.
One hour,a scalding hot shower, and a mediocre salad later, I stood at the doorway to the large lounge, bracing myself for another evening of socializing. My skin felt a million times better after scrubbing it clean, and I had learned my lesson from the raggedy sweater I’d worn on the first day. Tonight, I made sure to put slightly more effort into myappearance. While I was sure my cream knit top and light jeans would look dowdy compared to whatever ensemble Sofia had put together, it was still an improvement. My hair hung loose around my shoulders. Brady had begged me never to wear it up again. Did I really look like such a monster in a braid?
Danny, Grant, and Sofia already sat on the couches by the giant fireplace in the center of the room. Grant and Danny were talking animatedly about something; they even might be arguing, judging from the vein bulging in Danny’s neck. Sofia just looked bored—and stunning—as per usual. She was draped across the side of the sofa and kept stealing glances at the door, likely waiting for Eli to arrive. I was surprised he wasn’t here yet.
Danny and Grant didn’t even glance up as I walked over to the sofa. Sofia eyed me disdainfully before sighing and shifting so I could sit next to her.
“Skiing is just as badass as snowboarding, I can’t even believe we’re having this discussion,” Danny huffed.
“Nah, snowboarding is way cooler. Skiers are so prim and proper. Like someone shoved one of their poles up their ass.”
