Page 25 of Say Yes to the Nemesis

Ryan definitely wants me gone. It’s only by Elena’s magic “I’m the head producer of this show” juice that I’m even here, much less that I’ll make it through the eliminations round.

I’m not just nervous. I’m spiraling. It’s not about the show. It’s about standing up there, waiting to be chosen. Or not. It’s every school dance I never got asked to all over again.

I try to tell myself that I have nothing to be worried about, but that specific exposed nerve is being trod upon over and over again.

“Hey.” Jennifer squeezes my arm. “It’ll be okay. Even if you’re kicked off the show, you’ll get your promotion sooner. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

“Whoa.” I blink. “Jennifer, you are a gem. Thanks for reframing the situation like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” She opens her arms and I give her a tiny hug.

I laugh. “That’s not your job at all, but I really appreciate it.”

Someone calls her name and she pats me once more before hurrying off. I glance around the dressing area, taking in the other contestants for the first time as a group.

Whitney’s already laughing like she’s on a first-name basis with the crew. Annabeth’s adjusting her mic for the third time while JacqLyn poses like it’s a high-glam photo shoot. And me? I’m just trying to remember how to breathe.

A girl named Divya narrows her eyes when she catches me looking, like she’s already decided I’m competition. Joke’s on her. I don’t even want the prize.

I glance sideways at the contestant next to me. A girl named Brooke.

Brooke has toned arms, sleek dark hair, and the kind of confidence that comes from years of winning things. She catches me looking and raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “You just look… fierce, that’s all.”

Her mouth curves into something that might be a smile. “Thanks. I’m Brooke, by the way.”

I nod. She doesn’t know it, but she was one of the earliest picks for the season, so I’ve already dug through her bachelorette file. Not that I say any of that. My status as a PA is still under wraps.

“I’m Wren,” I offer.

She smirks. “Yeah, no kidding. After your entrance earlier, I think everyone knows who you are. Honestly, you’re probably number one on the hit list of most of the girls here. Because of the history you and Ryan have.”

I drop my gaze. I spent the morning with Elena, going over how to present myself as confident and self-assured, someone with history and chemistry with Ryan. If only the others knew the real story. That I’ve never even kissed him.

Meanwhile, some of these girls probably have entire relationship resumes. Mine is a blank sheet of paper. If they knew that, I’d be a joke.

Elena’s advice was to let people draw their own conclusions. Let them think what they want. The truth is so much more pathetic than their assumptions.

A PA steps into the doorway. “Ladies, five minutes to air. Please make your way down to the patio set.”

Brooke stands and smiles at me. “Good luck tonight. Though I don’t think you’ll need it.”

I don’t need luck. I need armor. Because when he looks at me, I’m never sure if he wants to mock me or kill me.

I smile back. “You too, Brooke.” I follow her into the hallway.

The patio set looks like the courtyard of a Mediterranean mansion: stone walls, a pool, string lights, and rose petals everywhere. White silk is draped between pillars. It’s romantic in that stagey, TV kind of way.

Lights. Cameras. Red wine breath and tight smiles. This isn’t a date. It’s a firing squad in formalwear.

All the bachelorettes are guided to their places. Hana, the goth producer who’s in charge of me, waves me over.

“Hey Wren. Funny seeing you here.”

“Where do you want me?”