Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Ashley’s smile wavers. “Oh. Okay. So we should maybe talk about how to dress for a date.”
Ah. Yeah, so everyone else is in super-cute outfits. They look like Sports Barbie, with their micro shorts and tank tops that cling to their every curve.
I’m in sweats and a T-shirt that declares I’m done adulting. I’m not. I’m absolutely adulting in a way that I hope gets my dressed-down backside booted from the show.
I know the producers are already upset as one of them asked if I needed more time to get ready and I’d smiled and said no.
“I’m dressed to play football. I don’t know about the rest of you. You’re going to go down hard. I wonder if I can get some knee pads.” See, typically this is where someone asks me for a crazy request, and I go off into the city to fulfill it. I’m betting Patrick won’t be doing that for me.
“It’s not about football and you know it,” Ashley F says.
“It’s about looking cute while you play.” Ashley W is a bouncy ball of fun. She’s a twenty-something social media influencer from Chicago. She sits on my opposite side, so I’m surrounded by Ashleys. I wonder where the third one is.
“It’s about looking good for the camera,” Ashley F corrects.
“I thought it was about looking good for the king.” I can’t help but glance over to where Luca’s sitting on a picnic blanket with Shelby, laughing at something she says as the camera films their one-on-one time.
“If I look good for the camera, I look good for the king,” Ashley F informs me. “But, girl, you need to let us dress you because this is not cute.”
I know it’s not cute. I meant for it to not be cute, but I’m still a little sad about that.
“Is there a reason you’re not wearing makeup?” Ashley W asks with wide eyes. “Are you poor and you can’t afford any? I get all mine from sponsors. I can loan you some.”
I’ve been surprised at how nice most of the women in the house are. With the exception of Shelby’s bitchiness and Katy’s cattiness, the ladies are cool. They helped each other get ready for their dates, cheered when Hannah received the one-on-one date, and took chores either cooking or cleaning up after breakfast.
“I have some makeup,” I reply. “I was going for a natural look.”
Ashley W shakes her head. “Oh, no, sweetie. There’s no natural look on film. I mean there is, but it’s accomplished by putting on a lot of makeup. I’ll help you before the next king’s choice ceremony. I’m practically a makeup artist. You should watch one of my tutorials. Well, if we could have access to the Internet. What did people do before TikTok?”
“Talked to each other. Read books.” I could go for a book. Maybe one where the heroine finds herself lost in a faery realm and gets railed hard by the prince.
Or maybe not.
“Eww. That sounds terrible.” Ashley W shudders delicately.
Ashley F leans over. “They do it so we get bored and cause unnecessary drama.”
She’s right about part of what she’s saying. “It’s totally necessary drama. No one watches if everyone loves each other and shares the dude without a single complaint. Who’s the guy pacing on the sidelines? He’s not a producer.”
There’s a tall man wearing a suit and aviators pacing the outer edges of the shoot. He looks completely out of place because everyone is casual today. Not this guy. He looks like a man on a mission, and he has to have something to do with Luca since every couple of minutes his attention refocuses on the king.
Ashley W squints behind her designer sunglasses. She obviously hasn’t started the Botox some of the other women have. “Oh, I think that’s the bodyguard. He’s hot, too.”
He is, though in a tough guy, I can kill a whole bunch of people and not blink an eye way. If you like that kind of thing. I’m more about the dude who looks like a nice guy but is really an asshole who’s lasered in on me. But oh, hey, I don’t believe in love.
Get some therapy.
The more I think about it, the more I want to be anywhere but here.
“They say the king doesn’t go anywhere without him,” Ashley F whispers, looking around to see if anyone’s watching. “I think your mom is trying to get your attention.”
I bet she is. I bet she has some questions about my current attire. “I don’t want to bother her while she’s working. If she puts out sliders, you should stock up. They’re delicious. And she does perfect French fries.”
I wave over to my mom, who sends me a what-the-hell look, but I’m “working” so I do not have to deal with a lecture from my mom on why my hair is in a messy bun when everyone else is sheer perfection.