by Saxon James
“We’re back, baby.”
Once it sinks in that Jace and I are together, officially, I feel like nothing can stop us. We’re winning rooms and taking risks that just keep paying off. I’m flying, overawed to see the house coming together. With only one week left, the two other teams are really coming apart, and sure, the lack of sleep and long hours is catching up to Jace and I too, but even with the physical side taking a toll, I’m lighter than I’ve possibly ever been.
I know we’re going to face some shit from our friends and families for getting back together, but overall, I think they’ll be relieved. And I’m fully expecting my brother to go the I told you so route.
Even with that ahead of me, I don’t regret a thing.
The final ‘room’ we’re working on is the outdoor section. We’ve planned a full entertaining area, small lawn with garden, and a lap pool that runs the length of the property from halfway down the house, through the backyard, and past the garage. Keeping the pool long leaves loads of room for everything else.
And in the one tree down in the corner of the yard, I’m building a small treehouse. It’s low to the ground and fancier than any I’ve seen before, and I can’t help but be proud of the little thing, even though I’ve just built an entire house. When Jace gets back from shopping and I show it to him, his soft smile is the most understated reaction I’ve ever gotten from him.
“Well? What do you think?”
“It’s perfect.” He lifts a hand to cover his mouth and his cheeks pop like he’s smiling behind it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I snort. “Jason. What are you thinking?”
His shoulders shake a little as he holds in a laugh. “Is it totally crazy to tell you to build us one of these one day?”
“A treehouse?” That’s not what I was expecting. I’d been waiting for a critique or for Jace to point out some obvious flaw I’ve missed. “You want me to build you a treehouse?”
“Not for me!” His cheeks flood pink. “But maybe … one day, maybe, we might need one.”
His meaning finally hits me. And while Jace is too young for any big commitment like kids, and I’m not in the realm of considering it yet either, it does sound nice. A future, way future, that we can picture together.
I step forward and press a kiss to his temple. “Sweetheart, when that day comes, I’ll build you as many treehouses as you want.”
Out of all the weeks we’ve had yet, the outside requires the most preplanning. Jace and I steal little pockets of time together, but down to the pointy end, we’re both focused, determined to win this one last week.
The trench for the pool is dug well into the night, Jace and I helping the landscapers until our muscles burn and we’re covered head to toe in soil. The dirt is carted away the next day as we set out posts for our deck and start laying the boards. Lighting is installed, turf is laid, the pool’s draining is fitted before the pool arrives. We set up a barbecue and eating area to make the most of the San Francisco summers, and a fire pit with seating to warm up the winters. There’s a music system wired up to speakers built into the ceiling and Jace styles the whole area until … well, until I kind of wish we lived here ourselves.
It’s been a long two and a half months and the scale of what we accomplished is beyond what I’d ever be able to imagine. Jace is a genius, I swear, and the afternoon before our final night on Total Fabrication, he receives a call from home that confirms everything I already know. Jace excitedly orders his mom to open the envelop from Pratt Institute and as a loud shriek comes down the line, I don’t wait for her to read it. I pounce on him, pressing my lips hard against his.
“Congratulations, sweetheart.”
“You got in,” his mom cries.
And Jace and I share a look like we’ve done many times. His mom is great, but she cries at the drop of a hat. And while New York is going to be a massive move, and we’ve barely begun to scrape the surface of what that looks like for us, when Jace tells his mom we’ll need to talk some more, I cut him off.
“There’s nothing to think about. Jace is going.” My face feels like it will crack with the pressure from my smile. “And I’ll be right there with him.”
Everything moves like a dream. When we finish up filming, because the show is aired a few weeks behind, we have time to go home to try and organize things before the finale. Mom is beside herself when I tell her Blake and I are back together, and Dad just grunts and says it’s about time.
Blake’s parents are a bit more wary, especially when we tell them our plans for New York, which even surprises his brother who seems chill about literally everything. I’m sure the video of me kissing that guy didn’t help matters.
The weirdest thing out of it all is returning to the apartment Blake and I lived in together for almost our whole relationship. And nothing has changed since I left it, not even the large, Jace-shaped holes left by my vacated possessions.
Moving back in makes things awkward for maybe half a day as we readjust to everything being back to normal, like I’d just gone on an extended vacation somewhere. Mom mentions that maybe it would be better if we didn’t rush into things, but I’ve just wasted three months without him, it seems stupid to waste any more.
We don’t hesitate to send in my acceptance or look for a property to buy. There isn’t much in the areas we’re interested in but thankfully we have time.
Even away from the constant filming and the never ending work load, we can’t get away from the show. Our contestant social media needs to be updated regularly per our contract, but the closer we get to the finale, the more vocal people become about our relationship. We’ve had calls from a few trash tabloids to set the record straight but both Blake and I agree that feels even sleazier than the people in our lives coming forward with their version of the truth.
It’s a lot to take on, and as much as I know the hurtful comments mean next to nothing, the only times they’re not playing on my mind are when Blake is fucking me senseless. It’s almost reached a point where I don’t want to go to the finale, don’t want to see the comments based on whether we win or lose. If we win, people will be bitter. If we lose, people will rub it in. Neither of those options sound appealing, but with the impending move to New York, I can’t deny the extra money would help.
Blake groans and rolls over in bed, blinking slowly over at me as the light from my cell phone breaks up the sleepy darkness.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice thick and sleep drunk.
“Nothing.”
“Try again.”
I sigh, scrolling back to the top of our notifications. “Just clearing out our page.”
He buries his face in his pillow before reappearing. “That fucking page.” Reaching over, he plucks the cell from my hands and starts to look through some of the comments on our most recent post. The shadows make his frown lines look deeper than normal. “Passionate bunch, aren’t they?”
I hum. “They’re still not happy.”
“Fuck ‘em.”
“I don’t think that would help the situation,” I reply dryly.
Blake tosses the phone on the bed and leans back, tucking his hands behind his head. “What do you think will?”
“I don’t know.” I pause while I try to sort through how I feel. “Maybe we need to address it head on?”
“You want to?”
“At this point, it’s not like it will hurt.”
“True.”
“But how do we do it?”
Blake glances back at my phone that’s still lit up between us. “Social media post?”
I screw up my lips. “I’m not sure that’s the best way.”
“At the finale?”
“Maybe … we’d probably have to check the producers will air it though.”
“It’s all live. They won’t have a choice.”
I worry my lip as I consider it. “Will they be mad, do you think?”
“Probably. But can’
t be any worse than when they find out we lied the whole time.”
“Part of the time.” I run my hand over the smooth bedding. “So that’s what we’ll say? The truth?”
Blake sighs. “I think that’d be for the best.”
I’m not so sure. There’s the whole honesty thing of course, which, yeah great. What I’m not looking forward to is the keyboard warriors acting like they’ve never done a thing wrong in their lives. Ethically what we did wasn’t cool, but at the same time, we were together when we submitted the audition video, were selected off that, and are together now. In the middle was more of a hiatus than anything.
I know that excuse won’t help though.
Stomach tight with anxiety, I close my phone, snuggle into Blake’s big arms, and try to go to sleep.
God, Jace is gorgeous. In normal clothes, in construction clothes, but tonight, in his midnight blue jacket and maroon chinos, polka dot bow tie around his neck, he takes my breath away. Even with his tan face paler than usual and his brown styled hair sticking straight up from the amount of times he’s run his hand through it.
He could be covered in shit and I still wouldn’t be able to get enough.
We hold hands as we take the stage for the finale and his is clammy with sweat, though I’m sure mine isn’t much better. The set has been erected in the street outside the row houses we renovated and thousands of people pack the area tight. Tiffany and Chloe are dressed like they’re going to a gala or something, and Lea and Russ have been done up way nicer than I’ve ever seen them. The crowd thankfully are high on the atmosphere because there hasn’t been anything negative hurled at us yet, making me think that all those people online are loud, but few.
As people inspect the houses and vote on the tablets set up outside, we’re asked questions throughout the day between rounds of signing things that will no doubt be forgotten about in a month. The producers must have prescreened the questions because there’s nothing awkward or remotely uncomfortable and Jace starts to relax. Only a little though, because we both know what still has to come.
Once the finale day starts to wind to a close, my nerves double over. The votes have to be verified and there’s a cocktail hour for the contestants and crew while that happens. This is the live part that Jace and I need to take advantage of.
“You sure we shouldn’t give anyone the head’s up?” Jace murmurs to me as we wave goodbye to the crowd and make our way inside Lea and Russ’s middle house to wait for the final results. Considering ten long weeks come down to this moment is almost surreal.
The PR team are huddled together on the couches, posting tally updates and polls, and making a last minute attempt to get as much interaction as possible to guarantee another season. Chloe is flirting with Grant, our builder, and Tiffany is trying to pull the host into a conversation. Lea and Russ are getting steadily drunker with each passing minute, if the sound of their laughter is anything to go by, but I feel like the alcohol is doing the opposite to me. The light buzz I wanted hasn’t hit, so the cameras are bothering me even more than usual. I watch as Jace downs one glass of wine then quickly chases it with a second.
Sliding up behind him, I wrap my arms around his waist. “Doing okay?”
“Peachy.” His cheeks certainly are, if nothing else. The alcohol has flushed them a pretty pink. “I think it’s time.”
My stomach instantly tightens but I push it down, knowing that nerves won’t help the situation. “We’ve got this, sweetheart.”
He nods and before I’m ready, he lifts his hand. “Umm … hey. Hi. Everyone. Can we … can Blake and I say something really quick?”
My mouth is dry and I’m not even the one talking. Because I’m hopeless with things like this, because I hate any kind of attention, I let Jace talk, but I take his hand and move in to stand closer beside him so I’m not totally leaving this all up to him.
“I know there’s been … a lot of talk. About the video of me, about rumors of Blake and I …” He stops to take a breath and I squeeze his hand tighter. Jace gives mine a quick pump back and it’s all he seems to need to keep going. “I can’t deny any of it. Blake and I were dating for two years but right before we were accepted onto Total Fabrication, we broke up. There was …” He turns slightly to give me a sweet smile. “A miscommunication, big time. But while we were here, we got the chance to talk it out and realize what idiots we were both being.”
“I was being,” I say, finally finding my voice. “People have been so hard on Jace, and for some reason there’s nothing but love for me. I don’t get it.” I shake my head. “I’m the one who ended it all because I jumped to assumptions. Jace didn’t want that. He didn’t want to come on this show either, but I convinced him. It’s all on me yet he’s the one taking the fall.”
“But I’m glad we did this now,” he cuts in. “Otherwise we never would have worked things out, and no matter what happens from here, I don’t regret it for a second. We were both accepted on this show, we both worked our asses off, and even if we umm … fabricated things a little”—Lea snorts a drunken laugh—“I had the best time.” He sighs. “But … sorry. And I’m glad we got the chance to set things straight.”
Silence follows Jace’s words and for the first time, I chance a look at the others. Lea and Russ are just staring at us vaguely and I can’t work out if they even know what’s happening. Chloe looks confused, but Tiffany’s face is twisted as she holds back her glee.
Fuck them all though. The only one who matters is Jace.
And the producers, I guess. Will they kick us off this late in the game? Would they disregard all the work we’ve put in and ask us to leave?
Rosie signals to us from behind the cameras and I turn to share a look with Jace, but instead of the worry I’m expecting, he looks relieved. Holding his hand tight, we walk over to where Rosie and Lawrence hold open the door to the media room and follow them inside. No one says anything, and I’m not sure if it’s an intimidation tactic or they genuinely don’t know where to go from here.
“Jace, Blake.” Rosie nods at each of us. “This is … not wholly unexpected.”
My hope jumps at that statement and I struggle to squash it down. “What do you mean?”
“The video, the interviews, we’ve read them all.”
“So you knew?” Jace asks.
She shrugs. “We assumed something was going on and were beginning to think this entire thing was made up on your side. Turns out it only partially was. I’m relieved.”
Jace looks over at me, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Relieved?”
“Well my current guesses were, you weren’t ever together, or you had an open relationship, or you were exes whose drama was going to blow up before the build was even finished. So far, this is the best case scenario.”
“Not to mention the ratings,” Lawrence grunts.
“Ratings?” If anything, I thought this would have made them take a hit.
“They’ve exploded. It’s drama. You two are the most talked about couple by far. Anyone would have thought we wrote the whole thing, and that’s definitely one of the theories going around.”
“So …” Jace glances at me. “We’re not in any trouble?”
Just as Lawrence is about to answer, the door flies open and Lea stumbles into the room. “There’s nothing in the rules!”
“Come again?” I ask as she blinks around, looking confused to find herself here.
“The rules. There’s nothing in the rules that said they had to be dating. Just like there was nothing in the rules that said Russ and I had to stay married. So there. You can’t kick them off.”
Jace tries and fails to muffle his snigger.
Lawrence takes a deep breath. “No one is getting kicked off.”
She blinks once. Twice. “Oh. Carry on then.”
Rosie shakes her head and stands. “Actually, I think we’re done here. Jace, Blake, all we wanted to say was, well, thanks for the good season, and while we don’t like how it all went
down, we all kinda do. Because, y’know, ratings equal money.”
“That they do,” I answer, still a little blindsided at their response.
“Okay.” She claps her hands once. “The result should be almost ready. Let’s go see who won.”
As we leave, I want to draw Jace back and take a moment for the two of us, but Lea intercepts me and throws her arms around our shoulders. “I can’t believe this is over,” she moans.
Jace smiles warmly. “I’m glad it is.”
I nod, because me too. This whole show has been way too much pressure.
“You guys are totally going to win.” There’s a slight slur to her words.
Jace and I exchange a look over Lea’s head. If it was based on actual professional opinion, maybe, but we both had way too much controversy to warrant a popular vote.
When we get back out to the living room, our host, Tayla is ready to announce. The six of us group together, and as Chloe smiles over at me and wishes us luck, I feel a little warmer towards them all. It’s such a big thing to go through and yeah, maybe just a little, I’ll miss the late nights and shared stress and ducking next door in the middle of the night because our spray gun was playing up or something.
Tayla clears her throat. “Tens of thousands of people voted today, and the results are so close, there were only one hundred votes between second and third places.” She scrolls down the tablet. “So in third place, winning twenty-five thousand dollars, is … Chloe and Tiffany Reyolds!”
My stomach jumps, hardly able to believe we didn’t come last.
Chloe squeals and claps, putting on a show just like she’s expected to. Tiffany’s face looks painful as she smiles and tries to look grateful. They’re asked a few more questions and then it’s just Lea, Russ, Jace, and me.
Jace huddles in closer to me, turning sweet eyes up to meet mine and I smile. “Good luck,” he whispers.
“I don’t need to win.” I lean down to his ear. “I’ve got you.”
He snorts burying his face briefly into my chest. “You’re so gay.”
