My arm is suddenly yanked and voices become louder. Joey and I are in the middle of a conversation with Millie, and I haven’t a clue as to what we’re talking about.
“I just can’t believe they let a movie star come on the show.” That’s Millie. Her voice is dreamlike, but has an edge to it. I have a feeling she’s a lawyer or teaches high school students. You need major cojones to teach teenagers.
Joey looks at me, and I shrug. I’m sort of lost on the conversation and having a hard time focusing and keeping up. My shoulder is slapped and a bottle of beer makes it into my eyesight.
“Thanks, man.” Taking the bottle into one hand, I extend my other to shake Cole’s.
“Wow, this is all surreal,” he says as he runs his hand through his hair, ruining the coif he had earlier.
“I know what you mean.”
“I bet. You could have anyone, and yet you went on a dating show.”
When Joey looks down at the ground and her shoulders slump, I smirk and call him an asshole in my head.
“It’s not like that. I’m using this as an opportunity to raise awareness about the foundation I support. With the economy still in ruins and only beginning to rebuild, people forget about the smaller, less fortunate non-profits that lost funding. Everyone is focused on rebuilding big businesses and don’t realize that most of our youth programs are still suffering. If Joey and I win, I’m giving my share to the foundation. Help them kick start their rebuilding efforts.” They don’t need to know that my mouth wrote a check that I can’t cash and that I was drunk when I signed a contract to appear.
“Oh, you’re so noble.” A hand is placed on my forearm and it doesn’t take a genius to see that it’s attached to Amanda. She bats her eyelashes at me when we make eye contact, and I quickly look away. I also place my arm around Joey for good measure. Joey doesn’t immediately relax into me, but we’ll get there.
“So, Cole, what do you do for work?”
He moves to sit down, but Millie doesn’t follow. She stands in front of us, making things a little too awkward for me. In this house, I want to be treated like any other newlywed, not the actor they’ve seen in the movies. That’s not me. This is me, the real me. I’m not playing some part right now.
I add a little pressure to Joey’s shoulder and motion for her to sit down across from Cole. As soon as we sit, Millie does as well, followed by Gary and Amanda. Looking at those two couples, it’s easy to see that having Joey as a fan is working in my favor because she’s sitting next to me while the other wives are at least a foot away. I definitely hope my fans are seeing this.
“Cole, as you were saying?” Even though he wasn’t, since he never answered my question to begin with.
“I work in finance.”
“Crunching numbers or are you the tax guy?”
He takes a long sip from his bottle of beer and smacks his lips when he’s done. “Nah, more like corporate finance. I work long hours and that prevents me from dating. My friend suggested the show after my last girlfriend dumped me via social media. I didn’t even see the message for two days, that’s how busy I was.”
I immediately look over to Millie, and she glances away. We’re each taking risks by being here, marrying people that we may not consider adequate partners for ourselves, but it’s a show and we have three months to learn about them and ourselves, and maybe make some lifestyle changes. Although, I’m not looking to quit acting, so I’m not sure what I can actually change.
“Gary, what do you do?” I ask him next.
“I work with computers mostly, web servers and mainframes. That sort of thing.”
A hundred bucks says he runs a porn site.
“That must be challenging.” I don’t know jack shit about computers.
He shrugs. “It can be.”
I nod and move onto Amanda, who tells us she’s a kindergarten teacher and has been teaching for two years. I don’t know if I’d want my children to be taught by her. Millie is a police officer. I was right about her; she is a bad ass. I have vision of her shooting the guys if they get out of line.
“And what do you do?” Amanda asks Joey.
Joey clears her throat and barely looks at me before focusing elsewhere. “I graduated a few months ago and haven’t found a job yet.” For the first time since I’ve met her, her voice is weak and lacking confidence.
“Convenient that you’re married to a movie star, isn’t it?”
I don’t care if I’m a guy and we’re from Mars; I know catty bitchiness when I hear it. Amanda’s jealous, and her comment has just rendered the room speechless.
We will not be instant friends in this house. I don’t know how Joshua feels, but the glares, off-handed comments, and overall feeling that they’re jealous is not sitting well with me. We have to co-exist, but being friends might be a little far-fetched for me.
I get why they’re jealous. I would be, too. Joshua Wilson is every woman’s dream. He’s gorgeous, charismatic, his body is perfection, and the way he smiles—how his lips curve just a little off to the side—makes me weak in the knees. And I’m married to him, at least for the time being. I know I have choices while I’m in this house: I can shut off my heart, put up a wall and exist, or I can enjoy the moment, be his wife and take as many stolen kisses as possible so that when I’m out of here and back in reality, I have the memories even if I don’t have him.
The six of us shared four bottles of wine and watched a movie, two of us on each couch. I sat somewhat close to Josh while the other wives had at least a cushion’s space between them. One has to think that you’re a bit of a risk-taker to come on this show. I think, except for my situation, sex is expected, but by looking at the other two wives, they seem uninterested. If Josh hadn’t already set the boundaries, I’d probably try to cop a feel every chance I could. The other men aren’t ugly by any means.
Gary is a little different. He’s blond, not well built, and his hair is a bit too styled for my liking. His eyes are a darker brown than Joshua’s, almost lifeless. He stares, and that’s a bit creepy, but he’s decent looking, same thing with Cole.
Cole looks like your average high school athlete who never gave up on his dream to go pro. As he sits next to his wife, his biceps flex as if he’s trying to prove something. His hair is dark and his eyes are blue. He has a nice smile. Of these guys, I’d probably date Cole, or at least talk to him in a bar. With Joshua here, though, they don’t stand a chance with their wives. And I don’t stand a chance with my husband.
Earlier this afternoon, I stood in front of a mirror and looked at my hair that was styled just right, the dress I wore was beautiful and may not have been the one I had picked out, but I wasn’t going to complain. Now I stand, facing yet another mirror and stare at myself. The make-up has been taken off my face, making my eyes look dull and almost lifeless. If it weren’t for the deep purple negligee against my pale skin, I’d look like a washed-out vampire.
My hair is pulled up in a lame ponytail with the ends falling down in the back. I used to have long hair, down to the middle of my back, but in an effort to change myself after my engagement ended, I cut it. I regret that decision. I pinch my cheeks to give them some life. They flash pink but quickly fade. It doesn’t matter which way I turn my head, the disdain I see in my reflection is how I feel about my mother right now.
When I opened my duffle bag to pull out my favorite pajamas, they weren’t there. As I threw clothes haphazardly over my shoulder in the bathroom, I had the sickening realization that my mother had removed the security clothes I had packed and replaced them with satin negligees and matching panties. It felt like I just swallowed one of my Aunt June’s potpies, and now it’s pressing on all my organs. I’m so angry that I want to cry, and yet I’m standing here wondering what Joshua Freaking Wilson is going to think when I walk into the bedroom we’re sharing.
Am I enough to turn his head? I wish. Is he going to think this is some covert method of seduction? Again, I wish, but yes that’s probably what he’s goi
ng to think. I don’t have a choice. My clothing options are limited, and sleeping in jeans just doesn’t appeal to me.
Taking one last look in the mirror, I sigh. “Suck it up, buttercup.” This is my personal affirmation, one that’s supposed to give me enough courage to step out of this bathroom and into the boudoir with one of the hottest bachelors in Hollywood. Well, I guess he’s no longer a bachelor, but that little tidbit does nothing to ease my anxiety right now.
The hallway is bright and empty. All the lights in the house are left on for the cameras. Only in the bedrooms can they be dimmed. It’s extremely creepy to know that viewers can pay to watch us sleep. That’s taking peeping to a whole new level of stalkerism. The only noises I hear are Amanda and Gary talking. The two rooms are spread out, likely for added privacy, so they have to be speaking loudly. First fight and it’s on their wedding night. That can’t bode well for their future.
The future. I’m not a fan of thinking about what’s going to happen tomorrow or even next week. I used to look forward to the future and planning what my living room was going to look like or what color I was going to paint the master bedroom. Those dreams, or whatever you want to call them, were shattered so easily and by someone who was about to vow to love me forever. Joshua hasn’t made any such proclamations, so I should be able to live in a fantasy world without it crumbling down around me… said every female with hopes of dating a celebrity. I’m doomed.
When I get to our room for the week, I lean up against the doorjamb and stare at Joshua. I’ve spent years studying this man, but nothing has prepared me for this sight. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s shooting a spread for GQ magazine or something. His bare chest is visible, each ab muscle on display for everyone on TV to see. The dark red sheet is crumpled at his waist, and I don’t need to be standing next to him to know that his hipbones are directing every gazing eye to what’s underneath. I’ve seen this before in the many magazines he’s been in. Joshua has never been shy about his body. I’m thankful for that, although unwrapping him would be a nice surprise.
No, what’s making me weak in the knees, aside from the obvious, is the fact that he’s in bed, reading, and he’s rocking the sexiest pair of glasses I have ever seen. I let out an inaudible squeak that gets his attention. He looks up, setting his book down, and stares right back at me. This is do-or-die time—me in my every night face, with no make-up hiding my blemishes or chicken pox scars from when I was little. This is the me he’d get if we were living real lives.
I step into the room and pull the sliding door shut. I don’t have the sexy catwalk his now-and-again girlfriend has. I definitely don’t have any sexy moves. I stumble, hit crap and trip over nothing on the floor on my best day. Right now needs to not be one of those days. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself that if anything, we’re friends and this is just a slumber party. No sex. No touching. But maybe some kisses.
Kisses lead to touching, and touching leads to more intimate touching, which leads to sex, and he said no sex so there should be no touching.
“Joey?”
Shit, he’s calling my name and I’m staring at the wall like it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. I turn, give him a fake smile, and step toward the bed. I scan the floor quickly to make sure there isn’t something that is going to cause me to trip, and when my knees touch the side of the bed, I imagine myself sliding one knee onto the satin sheets, and setting my hands down to crawl toward him. He throws his book aside, but leaves on his glasses, pulling me to him.
In real life, I sit down and shuffle my feet under the covers without looking at him. Before my head hits the pillow, the lights in the room are dimmed and the bed is moving. My heart is beating so loud I can hear it over the hush of the room. He must hear it, too, but not care. I mean, why would he? He can have any woman in the world, and he’s stuck with me for three months.
A small light comes on and I turn sharply to look in its direction. I’m met with his dazzling brown eyes. He’s on his side, facing me with a smile that seems so tender.
“I thought we could talk some more.”
He says all the right things to make a woman fall in love with him. He’s smooth and sexy and so dangerous for my heart.
Mimicking his posture, I tuck my arm underneath my head. There’s a space between us, which would be perfect for us to hold hands. I’m just going to have to picture that in my mind.
“You look good in purple. It makes your eyes sparkle.”
My eyes close as I absorb one of the most romantic compliments I’ve ever been given. I have to diffuse the situation. I don’t want to be attached, even though I already know I am. This is a dream come true.
“Thank you,” is what I say instead of telling him to go to sleep.
“Who else is on your list?”
“Excuse me?” My list is something I don’t want to talk about, especially with him.
Joshua moves, closing the gap. “I want to know about that list you mentioned earlier. I can’t be the only one on it.”
I look at him like he has two heads, only to be rewarded with his laugh and a shit-eating grin. I shake my head ever so slightly, but he doesn’t back down.
“I’m your husband.”
“Low blow, Wilson,” I say quickly. “I’d be careful with how you use that word because I might request conjugal visits.”
“We’re not in jail.”
“Feels like it. I mean, sure, we can wear our own clothes and we have to pick up after ourselves, but we can’t leave and the cameras are always on.”
Joshua starts to laugh, and in the process gets closer to me. If this is the kind of sleeper he is—the bed hog type—it’s no wonder he hasn’t settled down yet. He probably gets kicked out of bed.
“Tell me who’s on your list, Joey.” This time when he asks, or demands, his voice is low and sultry, making my insides twist with excitement.
“Aside from you, David Beckham.”
He blanches, but recovers quickly. I should tell him he has nothing to worry about, but I like watching him squirm. He should know that I don’t stand a chance with Beckham, he’s just very nice to look at and I definitely would take the opportunity if it presented itself.
“Why him?” he asks in a voice different from his earlier question.
He’s insecure?
I offer a one-shoulder shrug, wishing we could change the subject. This is why I didn’t want to tell him. “He’s hot. He’s very easy on the eyes. And he looks very good in his underwear.”
“Is he number one or two?”
“What?”
Joshua moves closer, his breath tickling me lightly. “Who’s number one on your list, Joey?” The sultriness is back, making it hard for me to concentrate.
“We should go to sleep.” I ignore his question. I don’t want to contribute to his ego any more than I already have.
“Why?” he asks.
I close my eyes, hoping he follows suit. I wait a full minute, which is probably more like thirty seconds and open them again. Joshua is staring at me, smiling.
“I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I am. You should, too.”
“I will,” he says. “I want to watch you for a few minutes. Is that okay?”
Shrugging, I push deeper into my pillow and close my eyes. Tomorrow is going to be busy. We have a date competition, and I want to win. Not because I need a date with Joshua, but because I don’t like to lose. The more I think about it, he’s probably used to being up until the wee hours of the morning, which means he’ll sleep in and leave me to deal with the others. Just when I’m about to open my eyes and tell him to get some sleep, he whispers into the air, “Joey, who’s your number one?”
“You are,” I tell him before I can hold the words back. I keep my eyes closed for fear of rejection. When he pulls my hand out from under my cheek and locks his fingers with mine, I know I just made his night. I can sleep happily knowing I did something for him.
“I’m Patrick Jonas, and welcome to another episode of Married Blind.”
[Theme music plays]
“Tonight we’ll join the newlyweds to check in with them and see how their relationships are developing, and we have another competition in store for them.”
[Audience claps]
“I know I’m a little curious to see just how things are shaping up for Cole and Millie, who have just spent a week in the master suite. Let’s take a peek at our newlyweds shall we?”
[Switch to the live feed]
“Hello, newlyweds.”
[All respond]
“Let’s start with Joshua and Joey. Joey, you’ve been married for a week now, is it everything you’ve thought it would be?”
“And more!” Joey responds, and the audience laughs. I don’t have a clear view of the people in the crowd, but imagine that most of them are women. Or maybe the producers make sure there’s an equal and fair amount of both sexes being represented for the live tapings. I hope they see how I’m sitting, with my arm around her. I want them to see that I’m into this marriage one hundred percent, regardless of what Joey and I have agreed upon.
“For your fans, Joey, tell everyone what Joshua is like.” Patrick Jonas laughs as he finishes his sentence. You can faintly hear people from the audience commenting and I wish I were able to hear exactly what they’re saying.
Joey looks at me and her shoulders come forward in a small shrug as she smiles. She crosses her leg and her hands lock around her knee. She’s wearing navy blue shorts with a white tank top. In the past week, she’s been out tanning with the other wives and her sun-kissed skin agrees with her. We’ve had a good week—not great, but definitely something we can build upon. Everyone, for the most part, has been very nice, especially to me. They’re all interested in how I became an actor and what it’s like. Cole and Gary ask a lot of questions about my female co-stars and are very interested in how sex scenes actually work. I think they were slightly disappointed when they learned said sex scenes normally consist of me, the lead actress, and about thirty different crew-members looking on intently.
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