Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
I can actually see the celebration in my head tonight knowing that I don’t have to take part in this god-awful reality show from hell, but then…
She shakes her head and looks right over at me and points with absolute certainty.
“Him. I want the clown.”
And just like that…
My dreams are crushed.
Stolen.
I almost curse out loud and it’s not because she doesn’t seem very kind and sweet, in fact she’s probably the only girl I would want to go on a challenge with since she seems like she wouldn’t eat me alive if given the chance. She seems like she’s the most normal out of all of them—and I know, I know, that’s not saying much.
Since she seems nice and hell, since I’m supposed to act a part, I play right into my role and rip off my bow and hand it to her like I just joined The Bachelor or Love Island.
How’s that for drama? Bet no one saw that coming.
She laughs and takes it happily. I know she likes the gesture. She’s wearing a simple black crop top and matching black jeans. Not gonna lie, she seems the safest choice because she doesn’t know her own beauty. She’s bigger than the other girls and not in a bad way but in a way that says she’s not afraid of menus like whoever’s dressed that way.
I like girls who aren’t afraid of fries, so I smile behind my mask and immediately think of all the food Ari would bring me. Ari’s not afraid of food either.
And just like that Ari appears out of thin air and is suddenly behind me. I can feel her energy before I see her. It’s like I willed her to appear.
Shit.
Don’t think about her, Sookie. Just stop somehow. Stop the madness in your head. She’s not for you. She’s only going to get you in trouble. She’s a distraction. That’s all. A goddamn distraction that has somehow made her way under your skin and into your heart.
I sigh and just nod my head toward the girl and away from Ari who I know is now standing behind me with Director Simon. I wonder what she’s thinking. Does she even give a damn?
It hurts to think she doesn’t.
But I push the thoughts aside and just make myself go to the place where I can have no thoughts about love. About a forbidden love with a woman I just need to stay the hell away from.
We keep filming.
People are paired up and I still don’t really know who is with who other than Eric and Kai. I haven’t given anyone much thought since I zoned in on Ari’s presence and all the feelings she invokes in me. She definitely throws my game off.
I’ll give her that.
“Get this! Camera A, over here!” Director Simon orders one of the producers who’s asking questions to one of the contestants while we’re waiting for the final order to run into hell. The producer immediately rushes over to the director, with the cameraman in tow.
I’m confused why, then look down at the guys hand—he’s clutching his fist so tight it looks painful. He’s dressed in a ghost costume with scars he kind of looks like the Scream character with scars pulled through the face, in all black and white. It’s definitely scary and not at all like the weird menu.
“Mishel,” Director Simon says one more time. “Could you let us know why you picked this character? Is it because you know who it could be? Any guesses?”
This feels intentionally scripted. And suddenly, the mood goes from being something light-hearted and actually comical to dark.
They’re playing on some real fears here.
Yes, it might be funny on the outside, and I’m definitely laughing at myself, but these are real emotions that invoke a state of being that is not pleasant.
I can tell that the person behind that mask is ready to have a nervous breakdown, I can see it. Feel the energy exuding from his costume and I don’t know why I do it… I don’t know, maybe I’ll look back on this moment and realize I made a horrible mistake, but I see the shaking in his fingertips. I see the anger in his fists. I see the manipulation, whether purposefully or accidentally, somehow through that mask. I see all the emotions I’ve felt at some point or another.
I see it all in him in this moment and I’m enraged for him.
For myself, maybe.
Or for all of us.
So I do something I never thought would be possible. I self sabotage. Live on camera, I do the one thing every idol knows not to do when the cameras are rolling. People look up to us, people want my perfect image, they want the illusion we’ve fed them. But my bow is off of my stupid clown face, and I think even at my age, I’m just done. This isn’t right. This is crossing all sorts of lines—and one that is especially personal to me.