“Don’t talk to me. I’m not looking for drama right now.”
The words hang in the air. Before the silence stretches too long, Bee calmly retorts.
“Do you know the stereotype you were cast for?” Her voice is measured, calm, but there’s a definite undertone of challenge.
I roll my eyes. “Of course I do.”
Bee’s gaze pierces through me, her expression unyielding. “Logan and I know ours, too. I didn’t come onAdventureverseto befriend people who are going to talk behind my back once the cameras stop rolling. So, to be honest, I don’t give a shit if youwalk away fromTheAdventureversehating me. I would throw you under the bus any day, if it meant we’d win.”
“Well, good for you!” I snap back. “Throw me under the bus, but don’t expect me to act like I’m okay with it. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
Bee’s facade cracks for just a moment before she regains composure. “I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but don’t pretend like you know me, either. Logan’s family needs the money, okay? We’re all here for our own reasons. So don’t judge me for playing the game the way I need to.”
Her words hit me with a sudden gravity, a revelation that cuts through the fog of rivalry. I understand them now.
But it doesn’t make me hate her any less.
Chapter 42
Roof Access
To her credit, Yumi triesto look remorseful when the group returns to the hotel, most of them puffy-eyed and grinning.
For maximum drama, the producers have positioned Bee and me on a couch in the lobby, directly in front of the hotel’s revolving door. Each team that steps through drops their smiles immediately—Logan and Yumi bring up the rear, no smiles to drop.
Bee rushes forward, very much embodying her name as she flits around Logan, quietly asking questions and touching one part of his body or another. It’s almost endearing. I wonder if I think that because of our conversation or if she really is just softer in this moment.
I grind my teeth so hard, I expect one to chip.
“Noe,” Yumi starts, but I angle my body away from her. I don’t even want to look at her.
“Not now,” I bite out. Not with everyone standing around, not giving the producers exactly what they wanted from this setup.
She lowers herself onto the cushion beside me. “Okay, but I—”
“Not now, Yumi,” I snap a little too harshly, popping to my feet.
Her gaze darts to the cameras, the other contestants, and back to me in warning.The cameras, she mouths.
But the feelings I thought I had under control start to spill over,like carbonation when soda is poured too fast. “I don’t care about the cameras. You know why I’m here, and you couldn’t even—” I break off in a sob.
The outburst catches everyone off guard, but possibly me most of all.
Yumi’s expression shifts from defensiveness to sorrow. “I tried. I promise.”
Her hand lands on my arm, a silent plea for me to calm down, but I shake her off. The floodgates have opened, and I can’t stop the torrent of anger. “I know youtried. And maybe you would’ve been able to do it, if—”
Yumi’s eyes flicker with alarm, and I cut myself off, the beginning of an accusation hanging heavy in the air, and for a moment, no one speaks. The cameras continue to roll, capturing every moment of our confrontation.
KC steps forward, his voice calm and steady. “Maybe we should—”
“Stay out of this,” I snap, turning my glare on him. To Yumi, I say, “Don’t follow me,” before storming off toward the elevator. I feel everyone’s attention on my back, but I don’t care. I just need to be alone, away from the cameras, away from the constant manufacturing of my emotions and thoughts. I feel like a marionette. I’m questioning how much of what I feel is my own doing.
The doors open with a ding and I step inside. There’s not really anywhere to go. The building only has two floors and I don’t know which of the rooms is mine, but I press the 2 button anyway, tearing my mic pack off and clutching it in my hand as I step out of the elevator.
Something feels uncanny about the echo in the empty hallway. And when I realize what it is, I almost laugh; I only hear one set of footsteps. No Petter. No Bo. No Yumi. Just me, walking alone, for the first time in what feels like forever.
I reach the end of the hallway and, in a moment of impulse, push open the door to the staircase. The metal door creaks open with a protesting groan, and instead of going down, I choose to go up. Toward the big red sign that readsRoof Access. The one place Yumi Panganiban will never go, even if it is only three stories up.
