Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 158848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 794(@200wpm)___ 635(@250wpm)___ 529(@300wpm)
“This is so weird.” I flick my hand toward the screen. “We did the suits thing before this particular round.”
Remy rolls his head and throws me a sideways glance over his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not.”
The dinner sequence is worse than I remember. The camera spent a lot of time on Deadass, who didn’t know which fork to use and ended up eating with his hands at one point. I snicker, remembering how annoyed our host, Matt, had been.
Then it skips to us back at the house. Kiki keeps trying to hang on my arm and I brush her off.
I jump up and point at the television. “You can tell I’m trying to get away from her.” On the screen, I clearly shake her off. Then she trips and I help steady her.
She follows me to my room.
“Is Kiki going to make her move tonight?” the voice-over asks. “And will Griff give into temptation just this once?”
“I wasn’t ‘tempted’ by anything!” I shout, frustrated at the way this whole night is framed.
I’m at my door trying to get into my room when Kiki walks up behind me. She stumbles again and I react quickly, stopping her from hitting the floor.
The show cuts to commercial.
“She never went in my room,” I tell Remy. “She tried. That’s why I walked her back to the living room and left her there.”
“Keep watching,” Remy says in a tight, angry voice.
When the show returns, it’s Deadass and two of the other girls splashing around in the pool and eventually making out.
“I’m so glad I never went in the pool,” I mutter.
Then it catches up with Venom on the phone with his wife.
“What the fuck?” We were only allowed phone calls once a week. At least, that’s what I thought.
“Wait for it,” Remy says.
Bull and Pirate appear in the downstairs gym, sparring in a cage. “That’s not even the same night.” I point at the screen. “I was there for this. Look! You can see my red shirt in the corner, right there.”
Remy leans forward and squints. “It could be anything.”
“They sure did some creative editing.”
The screen switches to the grainy black-and-white footage that seems to be reserved for the personal quarters and bedrooms.
“Wait a minute. Did Griff invite Kiki into his room after all?” the voice-over asks in a dramatic stage whisper.
Two people appear in bed, under the white comforter. Loud moaning.
“Looks like Griff has a difficult conversation with his girlfriend coming up,” the announcer says.
“Oh, fuck this guy!” I shout.
Acid crawls up my throat as the camera focuses on the guy’s back. The girl digs her nails into his shoulders and they’re clearly fucking. Or at least putting on a good show.
“Jesus Christ.” I stab my fingers through my hair and fall against the couch. It’s worse than I thought. So much worse. I’m not surprised Molly took a bat to her car at all. Shit, I’m amazed she didn’t light my car on fire after watching and listening to that.
“Yeah,” Remy says barely above a whisper. “You get why we all thought—”
“Nah, bro.” I shoot a glare at him. “I’m still pissed at you for not sticking up for me. You know me.” I shift toward the screen again. “But now that I’ve seen this, I get why she lost her shit.”
It stings. But there isn’t a single piece of me that’s angry with Molly. Mad at myself, sure. Rage and shame keep boxing my heart against my ribcage.
Idiot. Stupid, lazy, foolish. Nothing is simple. Nothing is ever easy. Hard work and working hard—the only true path to anything worth having. I know this. How did I let that little pink-haired witch fool me into thinking otherwise?
The moans and whispers coming from the television turn my stomach. Tough shit. Suck it up. I force myself to watch. So I know what Molly saw—what everyone in the world saw.
Even though I know damn well I didn’t sleep with Kiki, watching the footage while listening to the voice-over disorients me. Like, I’m questioning my own fucking memories and sanity as I watch every grainy, disgusting minute.
Thank fuck it’s over fast. Gotta keep the show “family friendly” after all.
What bullshit.
I open my mouth to say something snarky to Remy but my sweaty face flashes on the screen looking guilty and contrite.
“See.” I point at the screen. “I’m all sweaty from the match I thought I’d lost.”
“Or,” Remy answers slowly, “from some other vigorous activity.”
“Fuck off,” I snarl, annoyed that he’s right. That’s exactly how the show set it up to look.
The camera switches to Kiki gushing about how much she’s into him. Unlike the earlier clip, she never actually says my name. But the way the events were edited, it absolutely seems like she’s talking about me.
Even so, I point out, “You realize she never actually says my name here, right?”