“Sure you do,” I counter, now turning to face her. “But go ahead.”
“Go to him. Really talk about whatever it is you two are doing and decide together if it’s such a good idea.”
I turn again, this time to avoid her. All day I thought about doing exactly what she’s saying, but came to quick terms that no matter what I decide, or we decide, him going on other dates while still seeing me is nothing but an invitation to heartache. Eventually, he’ll get his fill of me, replace me with another girl, then go on to marry her. Because even if he chooses me to marry, it’s not exactly what I want.
“What have I done by coming here, Add?”
Addie stays quiet at my side. A true friend, allowing another to stew in her own despair.
“Seriously. I’m an idiot.”
“You are,” she confirms. “But only if you don’t march your ass upstairs and sort this shit once and for all. Either way you look at it, you’ll come out ahead because things will be clearer to you both.”
I suppose she’s right.
When the fresh beer comes, Tad places it in front of me and smiles, but insists, “This one’s on the house. When you’re done, go see to your man. He’s a lucky guy.”
I don’t bother to look over at Addie. I already know she’s basking in the validation of her own advice.
Chapter Thirty-One
Now that that’s finally out of the way.
Brock
-
Fuck, but I want to touch her.
Sitting across my hotel room from Brooke has proven to be an impossible feat. She’s wearing another silk blouse and short skirt. Her tanned, athletic legs are staring back at me in a way that makes me want to part them and prove to her the one way I know how, just how badly I want her here.
Every day.
Every night.
Until the clock strikes twelve and I have to make the choice of who to marry.
This is the effect she has on me and it’s one I haven’t taken the time to figure out. But, slowly but surely, I am. I like her. I like her company. Her humor. Her willingness to trust me with her body. Only she hasn’t trusted me with anything else, which is understandable considering we’ve not only just met, but met under these precarious circumstances.
For the last hour, since I got back from having lunch with the girls, we’ve been sitting across from each other in my suite. So far, our discussion has gotten us nowhere, other than admitting we find pleasure in each other’s company.
More evasive action is needed. I’ve got to be honest.
“Brooke, look. I’ve told you how I feel. I enjoy you. I enjoy my time with you. You’ve made this whole situation so much better that I ever thought it would be.”
“I get that,” she replies quietly, studying her hands, and not giving me her eyes. “You’ve done the same for me.”
“I like you as a person,” I add next, in case she hasn’t gotten that. I’ve been in my head so much, I’m not sure what exactly I’ve conveyed to her directly.
“I hate this,” she tells me. “I’m going to keep hating it. It’s wrong. I feel like I’m standing in the way of something I don’t have a stake in.”
“My choice of a woman to marry,” I deduce.
This subject hasn’t been hanging over my head too much since I talked to Matt and figured one year of marriage to a woman of my choosing can’t be all bad. Not to mention, what if I like her? I could take the time to get to know my new wife without all this static of outside influence and could end up happy.
On the other hand, if I asked Brooke, she could say no.
“What if it’s you left at the end? What if you’re my choice?”
Her head snaps up, and her eyes drill into mine before she says, “I don’t know that I’d say yes, Brock. This is what I’m talking about. We don’t even know each other.”
“I don’t know any of those girls.”
“But you will because you’ll date them.”
“I’ll date them each once, maybe twice.”
I watch her flinch. My dating those other women is obviously bothering her. I hadn’t realized in her mind those dates were really dates. So far, they haven’t been that to me. They were nothing more than suffering to get to know another person I’d never met before.
“Will you come over here please?” I ask nicely.
“No,” she clips. “You’ll touch me.”
Smirking, I compromise, “I will, but only if you want me to.”
Her eyes narrow. I’ve hit the exact reason she pressed this shitty seating arrangement as she walked in, smelling like Brooke and beer. She told me she and Addie had indulged in a few downstairs. I didn’t love the idea of Brooke sitting in the same bar I picked her up in, but was able to beat back my annoyance long enough to ensure she got her wish.
She also said it was Addie who sent her ass up here to talk to me in the first place. I’m going to high five Addison Tindal the next time I see her. I may even hug her and invite her to my wedding. Which may suck if she came to a wedding Brooke refused to be a part of.
“Brooke, really. Get your ass over here.”
Again with the dirty look.
Standing up, I walk to her. She watches every step. Once I’m close, I kneel on the floor, but make it a point not to touch her. Not per her request, but for my sanity.
“If you’re walking away, okay. Tell me now. I’ll understand. I won’t try to convince you of anything you don’t already believe.” I stop, hoping she says something, anything to deny she wants to leave. She doesn’t, so I push. “We’re in this shitty situation, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, if you’re willing to explore what we have, I’m in.”
Closing her eyes, she thinks. Leaving her to do this may not be such a good idea, considering it hasn’t worked out well up to now.
“Brooke?”
“Okay,” she states. “I was jealous. I admit it. Seeing you traipse around with these women isn’t easy. Hearing about you from them is even harder, but that’s not your fault.”
“Define what you think we’re doing,” I request. If I can get in her head, it evens the playing field.
“We’re having sex,” she simply states.
Part of me is good with her version of what we are. The part where I get to enjoy her when I can. The part that makes me feel less lost and alone in this entire course.
The other part of me doesn’t appreciate her candidness regarding this so-called relationship. I like her. I really like her. It’s possible she’ll never believe this.
“There’s nothing wrong with two people having sex.” I aim to convince her.
Her eyes pin mine with a determined look.
“No?” she questions. “You’re dating all these other women, but you’re texting me to meet you in your room during those dates. That’s not wrong?”
“I’m not sleeping with them,” I state with conviction. “I’m sleeping with you.”
The weariness on her face is evident. I can’t say with certainty that if we were to exchange places, I would be so good with her going on these ‘dates’ either. Fuck that, I know I wouldn’t be. But, as it stands right now, I don’t have Brooke in any real way.
I don’t relish in what her response may be, but I demand it anyway. “Tell me what you want. No matter what it is, I’ll do it.”
Cocking an eyebrow, she suggests, “Sex.” Before I can agree or not, she adds, “That’s all. I like being with you, too. But you’re here for reasons I’m not. If I can’t commit to being your pick, I can admit to enjoying our time together until it’s done.”
This is fair, but it’s not. I risk losing the one woman here I’ve come to like more than any of the others—more than any I’ve been with in the past.
I’ll take what I can get. “Done. Whatever you want.”
“Okay,” she returns, and if I’m right, I just saw a faint shred of disappointment cross her
face.
“But, Brooke?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re going to marry me.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gumby has some fierce competition.
Brooke
-
“Oh hell,” Addie states to my surprise. “At least the woman’s...um...limber?”
“Limber?” I protest. “Addie, did you watch the whole video? She’s so limber she could be Gumby’s stunt double.”
Standing next to me, Addie is holding my phone as she views the latest video Brock sent of Joelle ice-skating. It was his night to take her out. On the clip, the woman is wearing a leotard, shaking her ass. It also appears she’s trying to tempt Brock with every twist and turn. Clive is standing beside him; I can’t hear him talking, but his camera is in the video, and he’s aiming it at Joelle.
Once Addie and I finished lunch this afternoon, Willow and Jerry came to track down all the girls one by one. Today is our appointments with outside interviewers. We’re supposed to tell the audience how we’re handling things thus far into the ‘game.’ We’re not supposed to leave out any feelings, good or bad, we’ve developed for Brock, either.
Willow had called the girls for a meeting first thing this morning and explained that they were going to change a few appointments on the itinerary. The reasons for this was being held from us. I’ll admit I found it peculiar, but my concentration hasn’t always been in the game.
As it turns out, he’ll be taking women on ‘dates’ at a quicker pace than had originally been planned. This meant his time alone, more importantly his time with me, would be substantially less.
“Brooke, I don’t think he’s at all interested in Gumby’s stunt double,” Addie claims. “I mean, sure, he’s sending you pictures of her or whatever. But, if he were interested, my guess is he’d have her off the ice already instead of texting you the entire day.”
She probably has a small point. He has been texting me all day. Before the clips started rolling in, he was going on about our new ‘arrangement’ and that I had to live up to my side of it; meaning, after his date with Joelle, I’d meet him in his room.
Since our talk, I do feel better about us being together in the capacity we are. Keeping emotional ties clean in order to survive the break at the end will do us both good. I like him, genuinely, but I don’t want to marry him. We just met.
All this said, the unwelcome fluster of fury in my belly ignites. Images of Brock tearing Joelle’s prissy sequined pink leotard from her body, then ravishing her the way he ravishes me sits in my gut like dead weight.
Grabbing my phone from Addie’s hand, I don’t turn it off before throwing it in my bag. The background music continues to play as Addie and I take a seat at the table closest to the door.
“So glad you and Brock talked,” she snorts, rolling her eyes, and crossing her arms over her chest. “Lot of good it did.”
“Shush,” I hiss. “We’re not talking about this here. I’m next.” I look down at the blinking box in my hand, which the set director told me would light up before my time came.
I haven’t been front and center of the cameras since being here, other than when we’re all together in a group. I don’t relish in having to talk to interviewers who are out to make a story stick for public consumption.
All I really want to do is go up to Brock’s room and wait for him to finish his date.
How insane does this sound?
“Maybe all this with Brock is a mistake,” I tell Addie. I hate the notion itself, but it does have merit. “I mean, what if I’m getting in the way of something he could have with someone else.”
“You are getting in the way of that,” she assures. “But, then again, Brock has to make the decision, too. It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to.”
I hate that phrase.
The night with Jason, Addie had said the same. He was cheating on me, and she said exactly that. I didn’t want to hear it then, and I don’t love hearing it now. Especially, since the way it will undoubtedly work out is Brock marrying someone else. I’m torn.
“There’s Kylee.” She points as the doors to the interview room open.
Kylee’s smiling big for the camera, which is recording her exit from the interview room. She’s wearing an all white, one-piece romper. Her shoulders are bare, and her skin is flawless. I imagine the audience will eat that up. I’m wearing what I always do, nothing special. A small frilly yellow blouse and khakis.
Addie nudges my elbow. “If Kylee does the queen’s wave as she walks by that camera, I’ll give you forty dollars.”
“Stop it,” I hiss.
“What?” she smarts. “I wanna see it.”
I don’t.
We both turn our heads to see Kylee walking toward us. Just as I assume she’s about to pass us without speaking, she stops. When she places her hands to her hips, her long, red painted fingernails stand out against the white romper she’s wearing.
“The audience loves me,” she happily chirps. There’s got to be a camera rolling if this she-devil is being so cordial. “When we were done, the lady who interviewed me told me I was a shoo-in for audience pick.”
Oh God. Poor Brock.
“Girl, don’t you want the man to want to marry you?” Addie throws down. “Or don’t you care about being sloppy seconds to someone with class?”
“Why are you here? You’re not in this,” Kylee snaps, clearly having a distaste for my best friend.
“Nope. I’m not. I’m just one of the audience,” Addie confirms. “And my vote is for Brooke.”
“Addie,” I snap. Picking a fight with Kylee in front of all those who surround us isn’t a good idea.
Kylee rolls her eyes. “All right. I gotta go. Good luck in there, Brooke. If you get flustered, just look sweet and smile for the camera,” she coaches.
“Thanks,” I mutter, still unsure which camera is rolling. Kylee is never nice.
After Kylee walks away, Addie turns to me and states, “I’d marry Brock before having to watch him marry her. She’s a nut job.”
“I’m sure she’s a nice person if you get to know her.”
Addie shakes her head. “Fuck that.” When her focus moves to the direction of the interviewing room door, she nods. “There’s your cue. Knock ‘em dead, Brooke.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Mom is rooting for the animal rescuer.
Brock
-
Brooke 06:32 p.m.: Interviews are done. Did you know you’ve been coined this year’s reality show heartthrob?
Yes, unfortunately, I did. Joelle mentioned it on our way back from the skating rink. We were supposed to have dinner afterward, but ended up skipping the rest of the date because she coerced me into trying my luck on ice.
Turns out, I don’t have luck on ice. What I do have now is a sprained ankle, which has been continuously throbbing like a bitch ever since I fell on it. Can’t say I was embarrassed about the fall, either. I didn’t have a chance to be. After going down as hard as I did, I was swarmed by girls—teenage girls. No women my age, or mothers, or any nurses rushed to my aid. Nope. Teenage girls came to my rescue as Clive stood in front of me, safely planted on the pavement, holding the camera steady as to not miss a moment of my glory.
Me 06:41 p.m.: Yes, Brooke. I’m aware. Come to my room.
Brooke 06:42 p.m.: I’m having sex with a reality show heartthrob. I could be famous.
She’s such a smartass.
Me 06:43 p.m.: You could be a lot of things if you’d get your ass up to my room.
Prior to my fall, I stood next to Clive most of the day, watching as Joelle did spin after spin. She created an audience of onlookers who cheered her on for more. Jo was lost in the music, and it appeared she either didn’t notice I was still there or didn’t care to acknowledge me.
Those in the crowd didn’t forget about me, though. Between the tweens vying for my ridiculous autograph, the women congratulating me on the choice of women I have
to choose from, and the men telling me how crazy I’d be not to pick Kylee Simmons, I’m worn down.
I want to see Brooke. Whatever’s happened thus far into this crazy mess, she’s been the one who has centered me.
Brooke 06:45 p.m.: Be there in a bit. I’m having a drink first.
What?
Me 06:46 p.m.: A bit? How long is a bit?
Brooke 06:47 p.m.: Keep your pants on, Tiny Dancer. I’m finishing up here and will be up in A BIT.
“Okay, I think I have you all set up in here,” Jerry informs me, handing me a glass of water after he all but carried me to my room. “Water by the bed, remote on the table, path cleared of all your clothes to the pisser.”
“Thank you,” I reply.
“I think you should see a doctor, Brock. Your ankle is quite swollen.”
If the shame in not being able to walk two feet without stumbling on my ankle wasn’t bad enough, I had to listen to Willow lecture me on the way up here as well. The woman was relentless as she emphatically advised me on how important my well being is, as in order to make the finale.
Fuck the finale.
“I’m good. Thank you.”
Jerry grins. “Safe to assume you’ve removed Joelle from the list?”
Fuck yeah, it’s safe to assume.
“Yes.”
“Very well, then. If you’re sure,” Jerry returns. “I’ll get word out and let the panel know.”
“I’m sure.”
Again, making these decisions suck. I hate hurting women’s feelings, whether I know them personally or not. I hate being the reason they cry. Lucky for me, they won’t know they haven’t been chosen until the final taping.
I’ve all but decided Brooke is my choice, but now I need to convince her that getting married isn’t only a good idea, but a fucking great one.
We’ve spent every night together for weeks. Whether she admits it or not, she’s falling for me. During the night, if let her go, she moves in to get closer. During the day, if we’re in the same room along with everyone else, I catch her watching me. The jealous and possessive gene she’d never admit to having is there.
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