by Laura Burton
“Great. Couple number four,” murmurs a gruff voice from behind the cameras. The lights move to the side and I sigh so heavily, Ronan jumps back.
“Are you okay?” he asks. I guess he’s looking at me with concern, but white blobs of light obscure him from view. I realise that I’m still blinded and blink furiously.
“I’m fine, I just can’t see.”
“Oh, no reason to be alarmed?” Ronan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Sure, eyesight is overrated anyway.” I wave a hand aside.
My vision returns just in time to see Ronan shaking his head with a smile and chuckling to himself. I beam with pride. It’s easy to make this guy laugh. Well, that’s something we’ve got going for us. If we will fake it as a couple, it would be a massive help if we could have a laugh while we do it.
While the rest of the couples record their introductions, Ronan and I banter back and forth. It’s as if we’re warming up before a round of tennis, only instead of tossing a ball at each other, they’re insults. We come up with a game where we poke fun at anything we see. Which then descends into a full-blown pun battle.
“Hey, that guy looks fishy to me,” I jab my thumb toward one of the lighting crew, wearing a sea life t-shirt.
“I don’t know about that,” Ronan says, scratching his beard. “I think the guy looks like he’s having a whale of a time.”
We guffaw like a pair of teenagers.
“Right, if everyone could return to their marks.” Julian marches across the hall with his shoulders squared, prompting everyone back into position. “Now, we will let Jewel finish her opening speech. All we need from the couples is a nice big smile.”
Ronan wraps his arm around my waist, and this time I lean into his shoulder. It feels oddly normal to snuggle up to this weirdo.
Wonderful weirdo, that is.
Who knew my fake boyfriend would have the same sense of humour as me? And he’s already pulled me out of unthinkably embarrassing situations. I feel like I can trust him. Even if this is all an act, he’s doing a better job than me. It’s time to step up my game. As the cameras roll and Jewel speaks. I allow my senses to take in the soft sandalwood scent of his cologne. Suddenly the cameras, the lights, the crew, Jewel speaking on the stage and the couples nervously standing on their marks all fade away from my view. The warmth of Ronan’s shoulder burning against my cheek sends butterflies to my midriff. My hand automatically reaches out for his and our fingers interlock with one another. Maybe, just maybe, we can win this.
Chapter Seven
It turns out that for the viewers the eviction will take place tonight, but for us couples “tonight” will be recorded live tomorrow.
Which isn’t confusing at all.
After recording the opening ceremony, it’s time to jump back into hair and make-up for a dress change. There is no time for a break, we’re already behind schedule. And they need us to record the first challenge before evening to give the producers time to get the show edited, ready for tomorrow night.
There’s no privacy. The women stand on one side of the hall, while the men stand opposite. Flimsy dividers stand like sheets of paper to offer some modesty, but it doesn’t do much. I can’t help but blush as I glance at Ronan changing into a new pair of jeans. His silhouette shines through the modesty screen and his muscles appear even bigger than they are. Suddenly, my mouth is dry, and I cough with a shake of the head.
Focus Melissa.
I can’t have a crush on this guy. He’s just in this game for the money. I am too. But I can’t ignore the fact that he’s hot and has the right personality for me. I wonder if the show runners paired us on purpose. Maybe this is a social experiment to see if any of us will fall in love?
I’ve got to stop speculating and focus on the task ahead.
I slip into a yellow jersey summer dress while keeping my eyes firmly on the ground. I’m actually impressed by my self-control. The old me would have squealed like a fangirl and gawped at the gorgeous males dressing less than fifty feet away.
But I am a new woman. Reborn.
Here, I’m not a small-town nobody. No one here knows I was the loser at school who sat in the computer room during lunch. Or that I’m an almost-thirty-year-old singleton who hasn’t even kissed a guy in a decade and spends my weekends watching quiz shows and playing Sudoku.
Here we are in a make-believe world. Where Mr. Muscle is my boyfriend, and I’m a sassy and confident model. The thought makes me want to double over and chortle.
Even though I was an outsider at school, and socially awkward, I loved drama. The freedom of putting myself in a character’s shoes and being someone else just gave me confidence I didn’t know I had. If I’m to win this competition, I will need to summon all my acting experience and pretend I’m on the stage.
I notice that none of the participants talk to each other. It’s creepy how quiet everyone is as we get our hair and make-up done. On the show, it looks like everyone is best friends and they get on really well. But I guess that was all an act. Either that, or we just got unlucky and have a bunch of introverted misfits. After all, we are a bunch of fake couples.
Once everyone is ready, we return to our pairs and file into a room with a TV hanging on the wall.
“This is the green room,” Julian says as everyone settles in the squishy armchairs scattered around. Ronan and I stand by the door, surveying our surroundings. There is nothing even remotely green. The walls are cold and stony, just like the rest of the castle, and the furniture is dark and drab.
I remember a small room backstage at my school, that had a mouldy couch, a dusty coffeemaker in the corner and moth-eaten curtains block the windows. It was the room we stayed in before the show began, waiting for the call to get on stage. The name “green room” came from the fact most actors looked green as they waited for the show to begin.
I look around at the gorgeous couples, all of them slightly pale and wide-eyed. The first sign of nerves showing through. None of us know what to expect. Jewel mentioned danger and challenges like nothing we’ve ever seen. I don’t remember reading anything surprising in the contract. Serves me right for skim reading it. What else have I signed up for?
“You okay?” Ronan mutters to me softly. “Your hand is clammy.”
I swipe my hand away from his and anxiously pat it against my dress with a giggle.
“I’m fine,” I reply in a high voice. His beard twitches as he arches a brow at me. But before he can argue it’s obvious that I’m not fine and I need to get a grip, Julian talks again.
“Right, so you’re all welcome to make yourselves comfortable. We’ll call each couple to record their challenge. And we’ll be filming short interviews. We hope to wrap everything up by this evening, so you have some time to chill. Questions?” He says, holding his clipboard to his hip. His beady eyes travel around the room, and a collective murmur fills the air.
“Okay, good.” He raises his clipboard. “Couple number one. Follow me.”
Jody and Tyrone rise from the couch and walk hand in hand as they follow Julian out of the room. When the door swings shut, there is a collective exhale.
“What’s on the telly?” the redhead from breakfast asks as the guy from couple number five picks up the remote. He flicks through the channels and groans.
“You won’t believe this, it’s reruns from the show… on every channel.”
“This is nothing like I pictured,” a blonde scoffs with a flick of her silky-smooth hair. Her metallic nail varnish flashes in the light. “I thought we’d all be partying.”
“Can I just ask… is everyone here really a fake couple?” The guy with the controller asks. All heads in the room bob up and down in response. “Wow,” he adds as he switches off the TV and sits on the floor.
The room erupts into several conversations, words become noise and I can no longer keep track. Ronan yawns and leads me to a small chair in the far corner of the room. He takes a seat and pats his thigh, looking at me
expectantly.
“Who do you think you are? Santa? I’m not sitting on your lap.”
Ronan’s face lights up as he beams at me.
“Isn’t that what couples do?” he counters. I study him for a minute, trying to work out if he’s being serious or not.
“So you are a couple expert now? Don’t tell me you’re a psychologist?”
“No, I’m an electrician.” He shifts over, giving me enough room to squeeze on the chair beside him.
“That explains the wire cutters then.” I tap my head, struck by the realisation.
“Sorry?” Ronan looks at me with puzzlement, and for a horrifying second, I wonder if he really was the stranger in the carpark. Neither of us have talked about our unconventional meeting.
“You know… outside.” I jerk my head and look at him pointedly. A rush of blood rises to my face at the memory of our meeting.
Please don’t make me say it.
Ronan laughs and places his hand on my knee.
“I’m just kidding,” his voice rumbles and it takes all of my resolve to suppress the urge to do… something. I’m not even sure what. Sigh? Swoon? Lay my head on his chest? Maybe all three.
“So, you don’t work in bomb disposal?” I ask with a wry smile. Ronan chuckles.
“You jumped to that conclusion from wire cutters?” he asks. “You have quite the imagination.”
“Well, I am an event planner,” I say with a shrug. “It requires a certain amount of creativity.”
“I thought you were just an assistant to an event planner?” Ronan’s words cut me like a knife.
“Ouch.” I rub against the pain in my chest, as if he sliced into my heart.
“I don’t mean to offend you,” Ronan says with half a laugh. “You were telling me last night about how much you hate working for your boss…”
That was only last night? Today has been the longest day in human history. I try to hide my shock that he remembered something from our get-to-know-you chat. This morning he couldn’t even get my name right. But my lousy career, he remembers. Typical.
“Right. Well, I still plan events. And it’s my dream to set up my business––”
“In London,” he interjects with a nod. My brows shoot up. Something else he remembered. I’m impressed.
We fall silent and look aimlessly at the couples lost in conversation. Occasionally, a woman pokes her head into the room and calls for a couple to follow her. Probably to shoot their interviews.
“Couple number two, time for your challenge.” Julian is back. His brow is shiny with perspiration and I notice that Jody and Tyrone have not returned.
That’s odd.
I shake my head in an attempt to rid the bees buzzing in my mind and swallow against the butterflies in my stomach. I hate not knowing what the first challenge will be. Then it strikes me, Jody and Tyrone probably can’t come back, otherwise they’d tell us what to expect. And whatever it is we have to do, needs to remain a secret.
I hate surprises.
Julian leaves the room with the next couple and Ronan takes my hand.
“What are you doing?” I snap at him, yanking it away. He stares at me in alarm.
“What’s got into you?” he shoots back with wide eyes. “We’ve been holding hands all day.”
My shoulders slump as I exhale in defeat. Do I tell him I’m completely freaking out? That my abs are killing me from sucking in my stomach all day and my feet are sore from standing around in these heels for hours. All I want to do is crawl into my little bed nest in our room and sleep. But we’re just an hour away from our first challenge, which I feel unprepared for and sure we’re doomed to fail it. All while we’re on camera so the Nation can laugh at us.
Ronan coughs and alerts me back to my senses.
“Don’t worry,” he says, gently taking my hand again.
“We’re in this together, right?” Once again, it’s as if he can read my thoughts. This time, I don’t pull away but tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and smile bashfully at him. It’s a shame this is an act. Even though it’s insanely stressful to fake a relationship all day, it’s also been nice. I’m not alone. He said ‘together.’
I like the sound of that.
Minutes fly by in a blur of banter and nerves. Finally, Julian returns, his eyes scan the room and find me. His face breaks into a smile. My stomach is in knots as he motions for us to follow him.
“Right. Time for a challenge.” Ronan rises to his feet and tugs on my hand, pulling me upward. The room spins and I realise I’m breathing too shallow. I cough and clear my throat. Now I regret sitting like a lemon in that chair for so long. I should have eaten something. Had a drink. Now I’ll be hangry during our couple’s challenge.
“Okay,” I huff, squaring my shoulders and marching across the room. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Chapter Eight
Julian throws open a large door and I’m momentarily blinded by what seems like a bazillion lights. I raise my hand to my brow and tentatively follow Ronan, gripping his hand for dear life. As my vision returns, I make an involuntary gasp.
“What is that?” I whisper to Ronan, who shrugs back.
“That is your pod,” Julian announces as he gestures to the large steel box standing in the middle of the hall. It reminds me of a world war II bunker. Jewel stands beside the door with her hands clasped and remains perfectly still as a stylist touches up her makeup.
“Come and step on your marks,” Julian instructs us, pointing at the two red pieces of tape facing Jewel. “In a moment, the cameras will roll and Jewel will give you instructions about your challenge. Questions?”
My mind is blank. I gasp like a fish, staring at the pod. Maybe they’ll lock us in there and we’ll have to talk to each other like a real couple?
Why didn’t we talk about nicknames? Should I call him Babe? Hon? I glance up at Ronan, blinking the tears out of my eyes. A stylist dashes over and starts working on my hair.
“Is there a safe word if we need to have a break?”
Good question, Ronan.
I look up at the high ceiling as the stylist drags a pencil across my bottom lid. I hope this eyeliner is waterproof. I’m claustrophobic, and the mere thought of going in that pod is sending my anxiety into overdrive.
“We’re running behind schedule,” Julian says with a sigh. “We need to do this in one take.”
Great. So, basically, we can’t mess this up. Ronan squeezes my hand again as if it would pump courage to my heart. It works. His touch is soothing. As long as he keeps holding me, I think I can do this.
As long as this isn’t some awful jungle challenge, and they fill the pod with bugs. And with that terrible thought, the stylist dashes aside and the blinding lights shine in my face again.
“Three, two…”
“Melissa, Ronan, welcome to your first challenge.” I can’t see Jewel, so I try my best to smile at her, hoping I’m not grinning like a fool in the wrong direction. “This challenge will test how well you work together under pressure.” She pauses. “In a moment, I will ask you to step into this pod and we will lock you inside. There, you will find a series of objects and clues to help you get out.”
A room escape challenge. I’m all over this.
“You have thirty minutes of oxygen left. So act fast.”
Is this part of the show? They’re not really sealing us up in a pod with only thirty minutes of oxygen, right?
“Time to find out if your relationship has what it takes to bring you back to safety, or if your love will be the death of you.”
Death?
My heartbeat thumps against my eardrums, and my chest is tight. Ronan rubs his thumb across mine to calm me down. But this time it’s not happening. I squint into the light to see the steel door swing open and the spotlights turn red. This will be the moment they’ll add some tension music to get the viewers nervous. No need, I’m already losing it.
“Now, if you could both step inside, and good l
uck,” Jewel says. I glimpse her sparkling veneers as she beams at us. Ronan steps towards our doom calmly, like a lamb to the slaughter. I wonder for a split second if I’ll be the first contestant to break off and bolt for the exit screaming, “get me out of here!”
The pod is dark inside. I can’t see Ronan anymore, except for his hand still attached to mine. Every horror movie I’ve seen crosses my mind and I’m convinced any second now Ronan will cry out and all that will be left of him is his hand. It tugs on mine and I shriek, still stuck in my thoughts.
“Come on,” he says. I glance at Jewel, who nods with a look of total serenity. Either she’s a fantastic actress, or she genuinely does not understand I’m on the verge of a massive panic attack.
I shut my eyes and stumble into the dark room and the heavy door slams behind me. It’s like a vacuum in this pod now and I swear they got it wrong and actually there are zero minutes of oxygen in here. I jump and clamp my lips together in an attempt to be brave. Only a little whine escapes them.
“Hey,” Ronan’s soft voice floats to my ears like a purr. He breaks away from my hand, and I tremble uncontrollably. I think a baby elephant is sitting on my chest. It’s hard to breathe.
The question begs, how are we being recorded in a dark room? Surely, they can’t see anything.
Then I remember the ghost hunt show I used to watch as a kid when my parents were asleep. They used night vision cameras.
“Mel,” Ronan says calmly as I stand trembling on the spot with my eyes still tightly closed. So, he’s calling me Mel now. Does that mean I should call him Ron?
I give a nervous hum in response. The only reply I can muster that does not resemble a scream. Ronan’s hands feel around my waist and run up and down my back. He presses his lips to my ear and shushes me as a flood of panic rolls through my entire body. I stiffen and the next thing I know his body presses firmly against mine.
