Love in the Spotlight

by Laura Burton

  “You’re not thinking about going back for the folder are you?” I drop my fork and stare at Ronan’s cheeky grin as he sits on the bed propped up on his elbows. I can see his brain plotting from across the room.

  “Don’t you want to know what to expect? Knowing what’s coming up could be a great advantage.”

  “That’s cheating,” I say firmly, placing the container aside and rising to my feet. “I don’t feel comfortable with that.” Ronan cocks his head to the side as he points at me.

  “But you feel okay about lying to six million viewers?”

  The question stings.

  “It’s part of the game,” I say, my defences rising. “I want you to promise me you won’t go after that folder again.” I sound like a mother reprimanding her wayward son, and my hands sit on my hips to emphasise the point.

  Ronan chews his lip and glances at the heavy curtains, avoiding my gaze.

  “Fine,” he says finally, dropping his elbows and collapsing on the mattress. His chest heaves, and he makes a disgruntled murmur. A heavy silence follows.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” I say, offering an olive branch. Ronan picks up a hand and waves it to me, then drops it to his side again. “The sun is out; do you think we’re allowed to walk around the grounds?” I muse.

  Ronan rises to a seating position again and crosses his arms.

  “Sure,” he says, his countenance happy again. His eyes linger on me and his smile broadens. “Nice onesie.”

  I look down and gasp. Realising I no longer have covers to hide the fluffy bunny onesie I had pulled on last night.

  “Don’t laugh,” I say, yanking on a blanket from the chair and covering myself.

  “Sorry,” Ronan says through another chuckle, climbing off the bed. “Let me look, are they rabbits?” He swaggers towards me as heat rises to my cheeks.

  “Stop it, don’t come any closer,” I warn. My attempts to scare him off are fruitless as a grin takes over his whole face. I grab the first item of clothing I find in my bag and bolt for the bathroom door to safety.

  “Killjoy,” Ronan’s muffled voice taunts me through the door. I lean back against it and steady my breaths. My arms and legs are trembling with nervous energy, and I clamp my teeth against my bottom lip. This man. He loves to keep me on my toes.

  “Wow,” Ronan looks up from his phone as I re-enter the room. The dress I grabbed is the most expensive piece of clothing that I own. It drapes across my body in gorgeous twisted ways and the golden material shimmers in the sunlight. I look like a walking candlestick.

  “Well, there’s nothing funny about that outfit,” Ronan remarks prompting me to laugh. “You look good enough to eat.”

  I rest my hands on my hips and cock my head to the side. Is it impossible to spend five minutes with this guy without one of us flirting? How are we ever going to maintain professionalism during this process?

  “Do you think this is too much? I could change…”

  “No,” Ronan blurts out. “Not at all.”

  I twirl on the spot and flick my hair back like a model in a shampoo advert. I can feel Ronan’s gaze burning into my body like red hot lasers.

  “Ready for our walk?” I ask coyly. Ronan shakes his head.

  “You took too long. We’ve got to go straight to the main hall.” I catch a look of disappointment wash over his face as my hands drop from my hips.

  “Oh,” I say, mentally kicking myself. They say time flies when you’re having fun. I guess it also zooms by when you’re grooming.

  “Well, shall we go?” I stick out my elbow, and Ronan leaps to my side with his eyes twinkling.

  “I have a good feeling about tonight,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the back of my hand. “I know we’ll get through to the next round, no problem.”

  My smile falls as we leave the room hand in hand. These could be our final hours together. The thought has my stomach in knots.

  I’m not ready to go home yet.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You can’t wear that,” a stylist huffs, picking up the chiffon skirt of my dress. She wastes no time in moving to my back and unzipping the gown in plain sight. I stand immobile and bewildered, looking out at the sea of disgruntled stares. I giggle and wave in a bid to help the awkward situation. But my attempts are fruitless.

  I’ve been so wrapped up in a make-believe world while flirting with Ronan, I forgot we don’t choose our own clothes. Now, the other women glare at me as if I had intended to upstage them by wearing my own extravagant gown.

  Our outfits are from the rails of dresses provided by Jewel’s team, carefully put together by top designers selected by Jewel herself.

  It’s another nod to how fake this show is.

  This is what they call, ‘Reality TV’. The only real thing about the Love Trials is we are all a bunch of underpaid amateur actors.

  “She’s so full of herself,” the brunette from couple number eight mutters to Jody. “Thinks she’s better than the rest of us.”

  I look away and step out of my gown as the stylist murmurs under her breath. I’m not sure how I alienate myself from everyone so spectacularly, but even the timid girl from couple number ten shoots me a scowl.

  Elsie’s bossy voice floods my mind at precisely the right moment.

  “You’re not there to make friends Melissa, just get in, play the part, win the cash, and get out.”

  A twinge of sadness pangs in my stomach. I wish I had my phone; it would be a huge comfort to have a bestie on speed dial right now. I can’t even remember the last time we spent this much time apart. And it’s only been two days.

  My stylist gets to work on me, pinning a new dress to sit snug on my curves, and wrapping my hair into a loose braid at the back of my head. Then she moves to my face. Once she’s worked her magic, I sneak a look in one of the floor-length mirrors. The makeup is heavier than I’m used to, but the caramel cotton dress compliments my milky skin tone and my hair is tied so delicately I look like a Grecian goddess. I look even better than I did in my dress. The women aim more scowls at me. It’s as if my thoughts are broadcasted to the entire room of ladies.

  “Thank you so much––” I begin, beaming at the stylist and for the first time, a hint of a smile crosses her face.

  “––Ruth,” she finishes for me. She has the same frame as Elsie, slender arms and short legs. But her deep brown eyes are a stark contrast to Elsie’s baby blues.

  The most striking feature Ruth has is her bright purple hair scraped back into a high bun. All she needs is a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and a tape measure draped around her neck, and she could be mistaken for a fashion designer.

  I want to open my mouth and declare that Ruth is now my stand-in bestie during this process. She can be my Elsie. Visions of us sitting crossed legged, toasting marshmallows in the fireplace and sharing stories about boys come into my head. But Jody motions for her, and in an instant, Ruth disappears. And I am left with my arms hanging lamely at my sides with no allies in this room of enemies.

  Julian is back with his clipboard covering his face.

  “Can I speak to Melissa Jones?” He says from behind the board. I clear my throat and his hand twitches. “Is that you?”

  I guess he’s trying to give us privacy.

  “It’s me––I mean, I’m me.” I clear my throat again and give a nervous laugh. “Congratulations, you have found Melissa Jones,” I finish in my showman impression. I spread my arms and do a shimmy to add effect. Julian’s dark eyes appear from above the clipboard and narrow on me.

  “Save it for the cameras, will you? Come with me.”

  Tough crowd.

  The heat of stares burn into my back as we walk away from the dressing area and leave the hall. As we enter the main reception, my eyes rest on Ronan. He stands with his bulging arms folded across his chest, leaning against the wall. A beam of sunlight settles on him, and he shines. I’m sure I hear angels singing. Our eyes meet, and his teeth flash at me, the corners o
f his eyes creasing.

  I was wrong. I have allies. Okay, one. I have one ally. But that’s all I need.

  “We will shoot an interview.” Julian marches past Ronan and motions for us to follow. “First up is your reaction to the eviction.”

  “But that hasn’t happened yet,” I blurt. Julian halts and stares at me dully, like I’m the dumbest person on the planet.

  “They have evicted you from the show. Now we need to record your exit interview.”

  Ronan and I look at each other with identical expressions of shock. We’re evicted? Already? My brain spins as I try to fathom this new information. Voting hasn’t even started yet.

  Not only is this show fake. It’s rigged, too, and just like that, my hopes and dreams of a new life in London go down the drain. And Ronan. I’ll probably never see him again. I sigh as he takes my hand for the last time and we trudge slowly, following Julian. Heads bowed and quiet.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ronan and I give a sombre interview. He rubs my back and I simper my replies. A single tear rolls down Ronan’s perfectly sculpted face and disappears into his beard. I wonder why he needed the money. He said he was desperate.

  I take comfort in knowing that at least I have Elsie to go back to and can hide in my tiny town, doing the same job for the rest of my life. But Ronan, what will he do now? This news appears to be genuinely crushing for him. With his height and stature, He could be a bailiff. I hear that’s good money. Though, he’d have to shave his head and get a tattoo on his neck to look the part. His face is too kind.

  “Right, well done.” Julian pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes as the cameras stop rolling. Ronan and I breathe a heavy sigh and gaze at each other longingly. It’s only been days since we first met. Yet, it’s like a lifetime has passed. And when I go home, there will be a giant Ronan-shaped hole in my life. Maybe we can stay in touch and get to know each other without the public watching.

  But then, what if Ronan was just playing an act, and getting close to me was the key to winning the prize money?

  “Now, we need to record your next interview.” Julian sighs and studies his clipboard, while Ronan and I exchange puzzled looks.

  “I thought we just recorded our last one,” Ronan says. A cameraman shakes his head with a laugh.

  “Everyone records their interviews before the eviction. It just saves a lot of time,” Julian explains. He motions for the cameraman to begin. There’s no time to process this turn of events, and I shuffle my feet and settle back into the chair as Julian counts down.

  “So, Ronan and Melissa. Congratulations on making it to the second round. How do you feel?”

  The red-light beams at me as the room falls silent and I stare into the giant black camera in a daze.

  “I’m in shock,” I say, honestly.

  Ronan does most of the talking. My ears ring and my hands grow clammy. I sit and listen to the rumble of Ronan’s deep voice and plant a smile on my face.

  “The next challenge will be the most dangerous one we’ve ever had on this show, are you ready?” Julian’s words burn my ears.

  Most dangerous? More dangerous than being trapped in a WWII bunker with only half an hour of oxygen? My blood turns cold at the thought. Suddenly, I’m not sure I even want to make it to the next round.

  Ronan’s lips press against my temple and he squeezes my hand.

  “We’re ready. I know we can show the world our love can stand anything.”

  It’s a cheesy line, but it works. Julian’s broad smile says it all. The Love Trials is all about these moments. As Ronan wraps me in a bear hug and kisses my mouth, I know that millions of ladies will swoon when they watch this back.

  “Brilliant work, you two. I sincerely hope you make it through to the next round.” Julian nods to his men and the spotlights fade. “Just between us, you guys are my favourite to win.”

  “Yeah, it’s true. He’s got money riding on you,” One of the camera guys says with a smirk. I’m not sure being Julian’s favourite couple is a good thing. And my mind is still forming terrible scenarios of what the next challenge might be. My initial crazy thought there is a fight to the death situation does not seem so far-fetched. Why add a dangerous element to the show? The reason Elsie and I watch it is for the romance. Have the new generation of viewers requested higher stakes? What happened to a good old-fashioned couples’ challenge? Where couples have to guess each other’s answers in a quiz. Or give the best on-screen kiss. Maybe there won’t even be a wedding? It will be more fitting if the winners stand on a podium and presented with medals.

  “Lunch will be ready shortly, then you will have a few hours before the live eviction. Jewel has requested another costume change, so arrive at the changing stations by four. We go live at six. Questions?”

  I have a million. But my mouth has stopped functioning. Ronan shakes his head, and as he rises to his feet, he tugs at my hand. We leave the room and the air feels a thousand times lighter.

  “I don’t know about you, but I thought it was all over,” Ronan says with a shake of the head as we stroll along the hall. “I can’t believe I fell for it.”

  His laugh loosens the knots in my stomach.

  “Me too,” I say, finally able to speak again. “What do you think the next challenge will be?”

  Ronan shrugs. A life-threatening task is clearly not on the forefront of his mind. He walks easily with his arms swinging back and forth and I have to skip to keep up with his pace.

  “I’ve been thinking,” he comes to an abrupt stop I wobble over my toes and stumble back. He faces me, his eyes boring into mine. “What if I really was your boyfriend?” His words come out hardly above a gravelly whisper. As if he’s worried the walls might overhear him. My eyes widen and then narrow as I think about it.

  Having this gorgeous specimen of a man as my boyfriend makes me giddy and nervous for all the right reasons. I rest my hand against his chest as he hovers dangerously close to me. The heat radiating from his body is making me sweat. My breaths turn shallow.

  “I––”

  Nothing else escapes my lips before Ronan closes the gap between us and kisses me with so much passion the room spins. I push against his chest after a few moments and we break apart. Any more time and my knees will surely buckle.

  “Well, what do you say?” Ronan’s eyes are round and shiny as he looks at me like a kid on Christmas Eve. Part of me wants to go with it. Sure, why not go out with the guy you’re pretending to date?

  But that makes me vulnerable to pain and heartache.

  “Look,” I begin carefully, resting a hand on his shoulder. “There’s no doubt that I’m attracted to you, I mean, do you see yourself in the mirror?” I wave my hands, gesturing to him to cement my point. Ronan’s shoulders shake as he chuckles.

  “And you know that your curves drive me crazy, right?” Ronan leans against the wall and gleans his teeth at me. “And your pretty face, gorgeous blonde hair…”

  I hold up my hand to stop the compliments.

  “Thank you. But they’re all physical attributes. We hardly know each other,” I say, trying to be sensible. The tension between us is distracting, and it takes all of my resolve not to jump on him and pick up where we left off.

  Ronan tilts his head to the side and frowns.

  “Are you kidding? All we’ve done is talk about ourselves. I feel like I know you better than my mother.”

  Ronan takes my hands and rubs his thumbs across my skin.

  “Okay, so we know some basic facts. But I don’t know you. From the last couple of days, I’ve found out you’re quick on your feet. You like to be the hero. But you’re a rule breaker too.”

  Ronan shrugs.

  “Sometimes you have to break a few rules to get a job done.”

  I press my lips together to stop the hum of disapproval threatening to come out. I am not a rule breaker. If I were a fictional princess in a fantasy novel, I would be Melissa Jones of England, protector of rules, de
fender of guidelines.

  On second thought, is that true? Had I not agreed to fool the Nation into believing I’m head over heels for a stranger? Where does that sit within my moral code? And did I not aid Ronan in breaking into Julian’s room and stealing his phone?

  Perhaps I’m not as strait-laced as I like to believe. But maybe that’s exactly the problem.

  “Since we’ve been spending time together, I’ve been more reckless. I’m not sure you’re a good influence on me.”

  Ronan’s face falls and a twinge of guilt hits me in the stomach. He drops my hands and takes a step back as he shakes his head.

  “Okay, you’ve said enough.” He brushes a hand across his beard and turns away.

  “Ronan, I didn’t mean to offend you––” I begin, but it’s too late. Ronan rounds the corner and leaves me alone in the empty hall.

  Great, now I definitely have no allies.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I feel like I’m back at school. I’m the loser who sits by herself in the dining hall, avoiding eye-contact with anyone while eating my food. Ronan does not show up to eat. And when I return to our room to freshen up, Ronan is nowhere to be seen. I’m the first to turn up to hair and makeup. And whispers fly around the castle as rumours about Ronan and I splitting up spread like wildfire.

  How can one comment cause so much damage?

  I enter the main hall wringing my hands and fully expecting to show up without a boyfriend. I guess there’s no point in even filming the eviction. We’re going home, anyway. How can I go to the next round without Ronan? My eyes cast about the sea of faces. Each couple is standing on their marks as the camera crew fiddle with the lighting. Where is Ronan? Did he leave?

  I imagine myself standing like a lemon, the first woman in the history of The Love Trials to turn up to an eviction alone. I’m not sure if Elsie will break into a fit of merciless laughter and never let me live it down. Or if she will descend into a pit of sorrow for having the biggest loser as a friend. Maybe she’ll even pretend she doesn’t know me. My brain throws scenarios across my minds’ eye, each scene more depressing than the last. When Jewel’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts.