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“Sure,” she snaps. “We can get you some champagne.”
“No, I was just being sarcas—”
She puts a hand on my back, shoving me out onto the patio.
A handful of the girls glance my way, but mostly they’re either gossiping with whoever’s sitting next to them or staring at the group in the pool, no doubt trying to figure out how to get Gage’s attention.
I do a quick scan for LeAnn, but she’s not on any of the chairs, which means she’s probably in the pool. With all those girls crowded together like that, it’ll be hard for her to do any serious harm to herself in the name of staging her accident.
I go to my appointed chaise lounge, unfolding my towel. Morgan grins when she sees me, doing a little bounce. “Oh, good! They put me on the end, and right by an empty chair, and I was like, oh my God, who am I even supposed to talk to? I mean, I could go in the pool, but I don’t want to ruin my hair, you know, and do you think they’re going to feed us soon? I didn’t eat breakfast, just because you’re not supposed to eat before you swim, you know, and I was like, well, if I do swim…”
In my head, I mentally put a finger to my temple and pull the trigger. Morgan’s nicer than most of the girls, but she’s also hyper and never shuts up. I wonder if being put next to her is the producers’ way of punishing me for some sort of transgression. Say, paying the price for taking over my allotted two minutes during the first meet and greet.
I flop down on the chair and close my eyes.
“Aren’t you going to take off your shirt and shorts?” Morgan asks curiously.
No. No, I’m not. I want to go home.
But then a beefcake server dressed in a tight white T-shirt and even tighter white shorts comes over and hands me a glass of champagne, and it makes things a tiny bit better.
“Can I get one of those too?” Morgan asks.
He nods and disappears without a word, and all of a sudden I see Morgan change. I don’t know how to explain it. She goes from being relaxed and normal-ish, or at least comfortable, to some sort of weird swimsuit model pose, rolling to her side, back arched slightly to jut out her boobs.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She widens her eyes and gives me a look, then giggles hysterically for someone’s benefit other than mine.
Ah. The camera is on us.
I take a sip of champagne as I turn my head slightly, and sure enough, there’s a camera right there.
It’s tempting to give the whole scene the middle finger, but the contract I signed—against every ounce of common sense I possess—specifies that we’re only allowed to address the camera and the audience during the studio shots. During the “live” sessions, we’ve got to pretend we’re in the moment, and are highly encouraged to keep our conversations limited to Gage or the other women.
“So,” Morgan says in a slightly-too-loud voice as she waggles her fingers for a sip of my champagne as though we’re besties, “like, what do you think was going on with Gage last night when he talked to pretty much everyone but you? What was that about?”
I hand her my champagne even though I’m pretty sure I’m going to need all of it to survive this moment. “Not sure,” I say carefully. “Maybe he just ran out of time.”
Morgan’s shaking her head emphatically, choppy blond hair falling out of her bun and whipping against her round cheeks. “Nope. He was definitely avoiding you. Like, everyone was talking about it. Almost like he was purposely not even looking at you.”
I frown a little. Really?
I mean, I’d definitely noticed that he didn’t seek me out, but I thought that was because he’d already marked me for elimination and decided I wasn’t worth his time. The way Morgan phrased it, though, makes it seem more intentional than indifferent.
“He didn’t talk to LeAnn either,” I say, snatching my champagne back. It comes out pettier than I meant it to, but I’d rather not talk about me and Gage. The last thing I want is for anyone to think I care about being the first one to go home.
“Yeah, but he’s more than made up for it today,” she says, somehow managing to sound smug and disappointed at the same time. “He sought her out the second she got down to the pool, and hasn’t let her leave his sight since.”
My head whips around to the pool. The group of women has shifted just enough for me to make out a muscled male shoulder, although I still can’t see LeAnn in the crowd.
I want to ask Morgan for more details, but I can’t without betraying that I got down here late.
“So, are you like, hurt? Or just mad?” she asks.
I look back at her. “About what?”
Morgan blinks in exasperation at my denseness. “About him giving you the cold shoulder.”
