Page 160 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

I think about that text I managed to send before they took my phone. “Wait for me.” Three words that probably didn’t make any sense to her, given what had just happened.

But I meant them. I meant them more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life.

Wait for me, Wren. I’m coming for you.

I’m going to make this right.

The sun is starting to come up outside my window, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. In a few hours, the cameras will be here. The producers will be back with their fake smiles and their manipulation.

But for now, it’s just me and my plan and the desperate hope that love is stronger than contracts and money and the twisted game these people are playing.

I think about Wren’s face when she laughs. The way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. The way she says my name when we’re alone.

That’s what I’m fighting for. Not the show, not the fame, not the money.

Her.

And I’m going to win.

Even if I have to burn the whole thing down, I’m going to show her the truth. That I never stopped choosing her. Not once.

I’m desperate to show her.

forty-five

WREN

He gavethe rose to someone else.

It’s over.

I’m over.

I’ve been wearing the same hoodie for four days, not because it’s comfortable, but because changing feels like admitting something broke.

It’s gray and oversized and smells vaguely like the cereal I’ve been eating straight from the box, but I can’t bring myself to change. The Airbnb I’m hiding out in has blackout curtains that I haven’t opened since I got here. Honestly, I prefer it that way. The outside world can stay exactly where it is.

The Simpsons are on auto play on my laptop. I’m not really watching, just letting the familiar voices fill the silence so I don’t have to think. Homer’s complaining about something, Marge is being patient. I’m sitting on this ugly beige couch eating Frosted Flakes with my fingers because I ran out of clean bowls two days ago and can’t be bothered to wash any.

My phone is face down on the coffee table, buzzing constantly. Emails from producers. Voicemails from the show. Texts from Hana asking if I’m okay, if I need anything, if I’m planning to come to the finale taping.

I answered her once. Just once. Told her I’d be there so she could stop worrying about me. But other than that, I’ve ignored everything.

Well, almost everything.

There was one text that almost made me pick up my phone. From a number I didn’t recognize. Just three question marks. Nothing else. No name, no follow-up, no explanation.

For thirty seconds, my heart hammered against my ribs. This was it. This was Ryan reaching out, trying to explain.

Then reality kicked in and I remembered that Ryan had his chance to explain. He had his chance to fight for me, to tell me what was really going on.

He chose not to.

He chose JacqLyn instead.

So whoever sent those question marks can keep their cryptic bullshit. I’m done trying to decode messages from people who don’t have the guts to just say what they mean.

I grab another handful of cereal and try to focus on the TV. Bart’s getting in trouble at school. Classic Bart. At least some things never change.