Page 36 of Winging It with You
Asher
The Bailey’s Hotel London—Bailey’s Bar
London, UK
As we sit side by side with contestants and crew, everyone’s collective disappointment after tonight’s elimination lingers throughout the swanky hotel bar.
Ivan and Eddie were sent home, a blow to all of us, as they’d inadvertently become the resident “Have I ever told you about the time…” grandparents we all came to love.
Well, tolerate.
The vibe is mostly somber—apart from a few PAs who have made it a tradition to end each elimination ceremony with a boisterous round of shots. J?germeister, of all things. What is this, college circa 2008?
The lounge is playing an iconic mix of American divas.
Ashanti followed by Shania Twain and then back-to-back singles from Britney Spears.
The upbeat tunes and rhythmic bass are incongruous with the overall mood, but even though I was bummed to see Eddie and Ivan head home, I find myself shimmying in my stool. Just a bit.
“I’m going to run up to the room really quick,” Theo says, squeezing my thigh gently. “Don’t move.” He gets up from his barstool, smiling with signature Theo Fernandez dimples. Nodding, I sip on the drink he’d just handed me.
And as Ms. Spears warns the lounge of a certain poison paradise, Theo’s former stool is quickly occupied by the master of ceremonies himself.
Dalton.
We haven’t had too much time one-on-one, a fact that I’m eternally grateful for. But as he makes himself more comfortable next to me, clearly disinterested in the fact that my body instinctively leaned away from him, I silently pray for Theo’s quick return.
“It’s a shame about Eddie and Ivan, huh?
” he says, still looking at his phone. When he’s not in front of the camera, he’s glued to some other device.
On more than one occasion, I’ve gotten the tiniest glimpse at his screen to see that he obsessively checks his mentions on the app formerly known as Twitter.
Out of curiosity, I looked up his account when I had a moment, and let me just say, the internet has not been too kind to ol’ Dalton McKnight as of late.
Especially the gays.
“But I guess it was only a matter of time,” he adds before I have the chance to respond, swiveling his stool toward me.
He places his phone face down on the bar.
The intention behind the act is alarming.
Oh boy. There’s no denying that Dalton’s conventionally handsome—or he was in his prime, in a forced kind of way.
He’s tall and tan and has an impossibly white smile that looks more sinister than it does dazzling.
But everything about him, from his clothes and fading blond hair to his lingering expressions and dramatic pauses, is calculated.
A strategic maneuver in whatever real-life game of chess he seems to be playing.
He reminds me of Clint in that way.
“Mm-hmm.” I say, as an acknowledgment of his presence rather than an invitation to carry on with the conversation.
“Between you and me,” he says, leaning in to me—I feel a groan building in my throat, but I force it down—“and don’t quote me on this.
But I’m honestly quite shocked two boomers like them made it this far.
” The disdain with which he says the generational term is oddly hypocritical considering he’s the closest to their age of all of us.
“Really? Boomers?” I ask mockingly, but he ignores me.
“So, I see #Thasher is trending again,” he says, reaching for his phone to reopen the social media platform.
“Did you see that? The internet just loves you two.” He tilts his phone in my direction, scrolling through the hashtag as pictures of Theo and me fill his screen.
If his tone was sharp when talking about Eddie and Ivan, his words now could slice through just about anything.
“I hadn’t. I don’t really pay attention to social media unless Jo needs me to do something.” I stab at my drink’s remaining ice cubes with my straw, wishing there was more of whatever drink Theo had ordered.
“That’s a mistake.”
“Is that so?”
“You and your boyfriend really need to seize the opportunities in front of you.” There’s that tone again.
Dalton is well aware that Theo and I aren’t actually dating—Jo informed him of that fact on day one.
And even though she assured both of us it was a nonissue, sitting here at the bar with Dalton and his conniving eyes, it now feels like a problem.
Dangerous, even.
“And what opportunities might you be referring to?” I shoot back, turning to really face him.
His thin, dry lips curl into a smirk, and I’m beginning to regret pressing him for more.
Even though it feels obvious he’s goading me into potentially uncharted territory—one where I knowingly allow him to have the upper hand—there’s a small part of me, minuscule even, that’s intrigued to hear this so-called industry legend’s perspective on Theo’s and my newfound online fame.
“Well, for starters,” he says, putting his phone back down.
“There’s money to be made on social media, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you.
When you’re on a show on a network like ours, it’s easy to think that your time in the spotlight will fade when the finale airs.
But if the two of you play your cards right, you could position yourself for so much more. ”
Beyond the prize money, which still feels so far out of reach considering Bianca and Jackson are clearly the front-runners this season, I hadn’t really thought about the after , when the cameras stop rolling and Theo and I go our separate ways.
I’d been so focused on making sure that Theo and I pulled off the whole hopelessly in love act to appease Jo and the rest of America that now thinking about what comes next makes my palms sweat.
“And by more, you mean…” I ask, almost afraid to know the answer.
“Come on, Asher,” he says, crossing his arms in his stool, “you’re telling me someone as educated as you can’t see what a massive platform this offers?
Brand partnerships, public speaking engagements, all-expenses-paid travel, you name it.
I’m sure you can use that brain of yours to come up with something creative. ”
Though every part of me hates to admit it, he has a point.
When I originally agreed to go on the show with Clint, the prize money was a huge selling point.
And he knew it. There’s a fourteen-tab Excel sheet on my laptop allocating where every penny of my share of the winnings would go to set up my scholarship program.
But I’d never thought about how being on this show could get my name out there in a different way, regardless of whether I won.
Could it be possible that I just received some valuable life advice from Dalton McKnight?
“And there are… other opportunities in front of you,” he says, his voice dripping with not-so-subtle insinuations as he leans even closer.
He reaches forward and places a bold hand on my thigh, the very spot where Theo’s had been what feels like just moments ago.
The difference in their touch, however, could not be more apparent.
Where Theo’s had felt warm, familiar, and most important, wanted, Dalton’s feels predatory, arrogant, and far too presumptuous for my liking.
I look up and am met by a face oozing with misplaced confidence. He flexes his leathered hand and slowly slides his fingers back and forth across my thigh.
“You know what, Dalton?” I say, pulling my leg away from him with purpose. “I was this close to thinking I might have been wrong about you.”
His grin widens; he’s clearly enjoying whatever one-sided game of cat and mouse he’s playing. “Be careful, Asher Bennett,” he says, his hand still lingering purposefully between us as if he’s betting on me changing my mind. “Or my feelings are going to get hurt.”
“I find that highly unlikely.”
His eyes narrow at my flippant dismissal.
“When you’re ready to get serious about what comes next, my offer still stands.
” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there’s a hint of desperation to his manufactured facade.
Like the usual confidence that brews behind those narrowed eyes of his has dimmed ever so slightly, so now he’s forced to use the power he does have—promises of success, connections, general know-how—to sweeten whatever deal he’s negotiating.
Right on cue, Theo’s handsome face comes into focus beyond Dalton as he rounds the corner of the hotel lobby and steps back into the lounge.
Concern flashes across his face when he sees my bar companion.
Thank God. His timing couldn’t be more perfect, and it gives me all the confidence I need to end this back-and-forth I’ve found myself in.
“How generous,” I say, rising from my stool. Disbelief, or disdain, washes over Dalton’s face, at both my exit and my rejection. “But now that I think of it, I’ve already lain with snakes once in this competition, and I told Jo I won’t be making that mistake again.”
For once, Dalton McKnight doesn’t have a quippy remark or sassy one-liner. Instead, he simply glares after me as I leave him seated at the bar. Will I regret insinuating the host of our show is a snake? Probably.
Was it worth it? Hell yes.
My eyes lock with Theo and he smiles, slowly at first and then all at once, like he cannot contain whatever happy thought just passed through his mind. I immediately find myself itching to know what it was.
“Everything okay?” he asks when we meet in the middle of the lounge. Part of me can still feel Dalton’s displeasure staring daggers at me, but I couldn’t care less.
“Oh, everything’s just perfect,” I say, reaching for his hand and immediately finding comfort in the familiarity of his touch. “But why don’t we get out of here. The bar’s a little too crowded, don’t you think?”
“Whatever you say,” he murmurs, nudging me with his shoulder and walking us out of the lounge and into the bustling lobby.
I wonder how we look to those around us.
Hand in hand and all smiles. Because this whole thing with Theo feels a lot more real than I ever envisioned it could be.
Which terrifies me because now, after having him like this, sunshiny smiles and all, the thought of losing him and what we’re slowly building makes my heart ache.
But right now, all I know is I’ve never been more at ease with someone else.
I may still be figuring out who Theo Fernandez is to me, but it’s abundantly clear he’s become something more.
A quiet exhale and the safest of spaces.
A shimmering light I hadn’t realized was so obviously missing from my life until he came along and lit up every corner of darkness like the goddamn sun.