Page 81 of One to Watch

Jeannie [6:40am]: Related???

Shareeza [6:41am]: Lauren, are you seeing this? What do you want us to do?

Mike [6:44am]: Bea just rejected outfit #4. Lauren?? Where are you???

Lauren [6:49am]: Was with Luc trying to figure out what went down last night

Lauren [6:49am]: (He went to Bea’s room and NO ONE caught it! Come on guys!!!)

Lauren [6:50am]: Reezy, get down to wardrobe and tell Alison we’re going right now—we’ve only got the camels for five hours

Shareeza [6:51am]: Copy! Bea says if someone doesn’t get her an iced coffee she’s breaking up with everyone

Lauren [6:51am]: Honestly same

Bea was absolutely exhausted after her night with Luc, but once some blessed PA procured her caffeine and the production crew headed out of the city into the fresh air of the mountains, she started to feel a bit better. The Atlas Mountains were stunning—blue and jagged, blanketed in thick green groves on their western side where rain fell, rocky and barren to the east where Morocco abruptly faded into endless sand. Bea journeyed up the side of a mountain in a 4x4 with their guide for the day, Rahim, who had a truly lush beard and a warm, mischievous manner that made Bea laugh—something she sorely needed after all the emotional drama of the night before.

“Riding a camel is basically like riding a horse,” Rahim explained over the whip of the mountain winds, “but the meat is much gamier.”

“I feel like you switched thoughts there, Rahim.”

“If the trek goes south and we need to eat our camels to survive, I just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into—a nice, smoky flavor.”

They made it to a little plateau near the base of the mountain, where Asher, Jefferson, and the camera crew were already set up to film Bea’s arrival.

“Hi guys!” She waved, inelegantly dismounting the 4x4—Jefferson rushed over to steady her.

“Take it easy, we’re not even on the camels yet.” Jefferson let out a big laugh, and Bea was reminded momentarily of that feeling she’d had on the first night when he called her “little lady,” when she couldn’t quite tell whether he was laughing at her expense. But he flashed a broad grin and kissed her on the cheek, and she dismissed the thought; it was genuinely nice to see him.

“Hello, Bea.”

Bea looked up to see that Asher was still several feet away—he made no move to come closer.

“Hey.” She walked over to him, noting how wonderfully normal he looked in his faded jeans and woolen sweater: a dad from Vermont. She wanted to hug him, to rest her head on his shoulder and snuggle into his arms—but something about his manner stopped her, made her ill at ease.

“Seems like you’ve had a good week,” he said, an edge in his voice.

“Yes, this country is amazing. I really love it here.” Bea was so confused—the last time she saw him, they’d been confessing their feelings and kissing passionately. What had changed?

“Okay!” Rahim’s voice broke in. “Riding a camel can be tricky. They spit, all four of their legs can kick in all four directions, and they’re frankly not thrilled that you’re here. So I need you all to be careful when you mount them. They’ll sink down to the ground, and you need to lean back as they rise up. If you lean forward, there’s a not-insignificant chance they throw you over their heads, and we have a lot of cameras here, so even if you don’t get injured, your mortification will live forever on YouTube. Okay?”

Bea, Asher, and Jefferson all nodded with trepidation. Bea was starting to think maybe belly dancing wouldn’t be the most frightening date option in Morocco after all.

“Great!” Rahim clapped his hands. “Let’s get this party started.”

The camels were putrid and surly, and Bea said a silent prayer as hers rose to its feet that she wasn’t about to be pitched headfirst onto a rocky path. But once the camel stood up and they got going, she was bowled over by the majesty of the experience. The camels were markedly taller than horses, and while riding them wasn’t exactly comfortable, their lilting gaits did have something of a hypnotic quality.

For half an hour they rode higher into the mountains, until they reached a plateau where the producers had arranged a beautiful picnic. Thirty minutes on a camel didn’t seem like long, but by the end of the ride, she was more than ready to take a break—thick Moroccan bread with savory roasted lamb was just the ticket.

“What, no camel meat?” Bea joked with Rahim.

“Shhh, they’ll hear you!” Rahim looked meaningfully at their camels. “We can’t let them know how lean and nutritious they are.”

“I think you should consider being the spokesperson for the camel-meat industry.”

“Why do you think I agreed to do a camel tour on reality TV? I’ve got ambitions, baby.”

After lunch, the producers had blocked out discrete mini-dates for Jefferson and Asher to give each of them time to talk alone with Bea. First, Bea took a short walk with Jefferson to a magnificent vista that overlooked the entire city of Marrakesh below, the high walls and turrets and palm trees and twisting alleyways gleaming in the afternoon sunlight.