The Reality O

by Candy Sloane

Scott’s visit probably wasn’t social, but to reprimand me. Tell me it would have made better TV if I’d brought someone up to my room, via Garrett, anyway.

  I pulled the door open. “Did I forget something?” I asked, a practiced smile on my face to hide my whirring excitement. I swallowed, trying to give my tongue something to do.

  Scott shook his head and leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his legs at his ankles, his eyes turning me to liquid every place they looked. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need anything before I tucked in for the night.”

  I’ll tuck you in for the night, I thought uncontrollably. They were the words Garrett would have wanted me to say downstairs, but we weren’t downstairs. We were upstairs, standing in my doorway. The space Scott had told me to use going unused just behind me.

  “Not partying with all the Gasms?” I asked.

  “I’m not really supposed to, but I probably wouldn’t anyway.” He paused and looked down.

  Did he want me to invite him in?

  Was I allowed to?

  I really should have read my contract more closely. But how could I have known the one guy I was actually interested in couldn’t even be in the running.

  “What do you think of my choices?” I asked, just to make him stay.

  “Solid.” He cleared his throat and squinted. “I might have kept one more girl.”

  “You mean you would have kept all the girls.”

  “I was talking about for you.” He smirked—a look on his face that something deep, deep down inside me was desperate to kiss off of him.

  “Oh really,” I mused.

  “I…” He placed his hand at the center of his chest. “…probably wouldn’t have kept any of them.”

  “Not your type?”

  “Well, they’re all lesbians,” he laughed, “so no.”

  “I mean besides that.”

  He leaned in, his voice a throaty whisper. “I love tits and tongue rings. I guess I just don’t like people who define themselves that way.”

  How do you like people to define themselves, in their work, or in their play? My stomach dropped suddenly, or in their lack of play?

  I couldn’t ask that out loud. What if there were mics on us? The last thing I wanted was to get Scott in trouble.

  There was no doubt something was undiscovered between us, something unanswered—a band connecting us, a pulling apart and springing back together. He must have sensed it, too, otherwise why would he still be standing here?

  “Is Garrett pissed I’m not down there hanging with the other Gasms?”

  “Garrett gets pissed if the sun isn’t in the right position. I wouldn’t worry about it.” His eyes studied mine, practically cut me in half.

  “This is so much weirder than I even thought it would be.”

  “How weird did you think it would be?” he joked.

  “Pretty fucking weird,” I laughed, “this is dog years weirder than even that.”

  “True.” He moved his hands into his pockets. “But in terms of a reality show this hasn’t even tipped the scale into slightly odd yet.”

  “So I guess I have that to look forward to.”

  He was silent for a moment, like he was trying to get up the courage to say something, or do something.

  Please, do something. Please, do me.

  “Just remember I’m here if you need anything.” His face was soft and genuine.

  I needed to stop my seemingly unstoppable thoughts. He couldn’t give me the one thing I really needed, the one thing that would get me the second half of my money.

  The one thing the taut band between us was still snapping for.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep,” I said. It was always strange being away from home, it would be even stranger sleeping in a bed that wasn’t at all meant for sleeping.

  “There’s a doctor here if you need anything.”

  I stared at him seriously.

  He laughed, “On staff. Not the one with the buff chest.”

  “Do you think they have anything to knock me out for the next eleven episodes?” I joked.

  “You’ll do fine.” His hands were still deep in his pockets, like he was afraid to have them in front of him with nothing to do. “Just think, at least you get an orgasm out of it. Some people don’t even get that from a regular dating show.”

  “What if I can’t perform? I mean—”

  “Have you never had one?” he interrupted. I could tell he was trying to keep his face blank. He didn’t want to embarrass me.

  I leaned against the door as casually as I could, considering our conversation. I had been uncomfortable talking about it on-camera, but with Scott it felt natural, too natural.

  I instinctively looked around.

  “Don’t worry, no one is taping.”

  “Sure,” I said, “doing it to myself.”

  He smiled—a naughty, sexy, penetrating smile—so much for hiding his emotions. “Then you know what you like, that’s a lot further along than some people.”

  “Like who?” I sighed. “Real virgins?”

  “I think that’s another show,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. “On the plus side, you might get to live out your ultimate fantasy. Few people get that chance.”

  “My ultimate fantasy isn’t about sex, or I mean it would certainly lead to sex…”

  Why was I telling him this?

  I paused. I wouldn’t have continued were it not for his expression, there was a thirst on his lips like he wanted to drink my words, taste them.

  I swallowed. “What I’ve always wanted is for a guy to sing Leonard Cohen’s ‘I’m Your Man’ against my…” I stopped, he got the idea.

  I’d never told anyone, not even Allie, that I craved this faceless, nameless man who would want to be everything to me, do everything to me, so much so that he would spontaneously sing the sexiest song ever written against my lips as he kissed me, against my skin as he made love to me.

  “Leonard Cohen, the poet guy who kind of talk sings?”

  “Not a guy like him,” I explained, “just his song. Embarrassing, right?” I looked at him through my lashes.

  “You like words,” he said, his even tone cooling the heat in my cheeks, “nothing wrong with that.”

  “What about what you like?” I asked, buoyed by his acceptance. “I mean,” I corrected, remembering I should not be talking to him like this. My throat burned. “What about what guys like? I’ve never been graded on my performance before.”

  “I don’t think it matters. We don’t really have trouble in that department. If anything, we need help stopping t.”

  “Lucky.” I leaned toward him. I couldn’t help it, the band between us tightened.

  His eyes contracted. He inhaled like he needed to remind himself to take in oxygen. “You should try to get some sleep. I can bring you some tea or something if you think that might help.”

  It was like he’d poured ice water over me. “Wow, you must think I’m exactly like Garrett is making me out to be—a boring librarian who needs a serious lay and likes tea.”

  “Boring is not a word I would use to describe you…” He paused like the words he wished he could use were filling up his head.

  What about the “needs a serious lay” part?

  “Anyway,” he said like he’d remembered how long he had been talking to me, “good night, Christine.”

  “Chris—” I blurted before he could walk away, “—my mother calls me Christine, call me Chris.”

  I didn’t care when Garrett did it, but Scott was different.

  “The first day of taping and you’re a demanding diva already.” Touches of humor sprung up in the skin around his eyes and mouth.

  “Is there something you’d rather call me?”

  “I was kind of hooked on V. I mean since no one else is using it.”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “Not if we’re alone.”

  I gulped. No words came. If I coul
d have spoken I would have said, I hope we’ll be alone a lot.

  What I felt for Scott was not insta-love, but it was most definitely insta-lust.

  “Good night, V.” He held up two fingers in a peace sign—a V—as he headed down the hall.

  I toyed with one of condoms in the pocket of my short plaid skirt. Damn, if I didn’t want to throw it at him.

  Episode Two: Triple Date

  Let me set the scene: A long shot of Allie, Cowboy, Tongue, Kappa, and me on the deck of a pristine white yacht, sunning ourselves and sipping drinks. Allie and me with the crayon colored tropical variety, Kappa with beer—natch—Tongue with tequila, and Cowboy with water.

  Cowboy didn’t drink, but Garrett insisted the production team put ice and a lime in his glass so the viewers wouldn’t know that.

  “We need the illusion of a party,” he’d said.

  I understood. I knew from my experience watching reality shows that one of MTV’s mantras was drinking means fun.

  The other Gasms had been left back at the mansion. I kind of wished I would have been able to hide out there, too.

  The yacht was large enough to have its own government, bigger than my apartment. Than anywhere I would ever probably live. Our backdrop was beautiful—deep blue ocean as far as the cameras could see.

  Wardrobe dressed Allie in a black string bikini and me in a tartan plaid one-piece. Tongue was in a tight white T-shirt and jean shorts that barely covered her “genes.”

  Yes, I do realize I made another science joke.

  The guys were both in bathing suits. Viewers could tell them apart because Cowboy was wearing his hat, and Kappa had an omnipresent beer where one of his hands should have been. He also had ZGT, the name of his frat, tattooed on his back shoulder. Luckily, I couldn’t read Greek so his name would stay Kappa regardless of his origin story.

  “When that’s on a guy it’s as good as a tramp stamp,” Allie muttered, lazily sipping her sweet drink from a straw.

  “I guess he’s on the right show, then,” I replied, shielding my glasses from the sun.

  Allie lay back on her chaise lounge with a satisfied sigh. “Can we be on reality shows forever? This is awesome.”

  “Maybe for you,” I replied. Though I did have to admit the parts of this that didn’t involve me exploding my lady parts all over a camera lens were pretty nice.

  “It must be so rough being in the spotlight.” She rolled her eyes and took another long sip of her drink.

  I propped up on my elbow and glanced at her. She looked amazing in her string bikini and straw hat. I touched my spandex-covered stomach, thankful for my one-piece bathing suit. The neckline was plunging and the V down below hit at my hip bones, but at least America hadn’t seen my belly button yet.

  “Okay,” Garrett yelled with a clap, “we need some interaction.”

  Scott stood next to him off-camera, his eyes rivaling the blue of the waves around us.

  I gestured my hand between Allie and me, we’d been interacting.

  “Is Allie a contestant?” Garrett asked, his Ray Bans trained on me.

  “No,” I replied, before he could scold me further, but I was at a loss at how to interact with the Gasms. It was one thing to talk to a guy I liked at a bar, it was another to have a camera taping me while I talked to people I was supposed to like, while another guy I actually sort of liked watched the whole thing.

  Garrett couldn’t see that in my head every communication was now stacked with those thoughts like they were books. I was doing my best to shelve them all and just act, but the pile just seemed to keep getting higher and higher.

  Of course, maybe my metaphor had nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with missing my fucking books.

  “Anytime, we’re not burning daylight or anything,” Garrett said.

  “How about letting us talk instead of interrupting us,” I said with more annoyance in my voice than I’d intended. I wasn’t his trained monkey. Or, considering what I was really being asked to do, maybe I was.

  “We could play a game,” Kappa suggested.

  “If you say quarters I’m going to kick you in the nuts,” Tongue replied.

  Cowboy smiled. “I like your spirit, girl.”

  “If you call me girl one more time I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”

  “A game sounds good,” Allie said, sitting up. “Chris loves games.”

  I didn’t particularly but I suppose anything was better than my ideas which so far only included, um…

  “Yes, a game,” Garrett agreed. “How about Truth or Dare, that always gets the party going.”

  “If you’re at a sleepover in eighth grade,” Tongue mumbled.

  I was beginning to like her. Not like like her. Oh, forget it.

  “Do you want to possibly win ten thousand dollars or not?” Garrett boomed, sliding his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose.

  Tongue had no comeback for that one.

  Scott stood next to Garrett fiddling with the clapboard, like maybe he wished it was a guillotine he could put Garrett’s neck in.

  Or maybe just I did.

  It didn’t matter, Garrett was right. I needed to start getting to know my contestants. The problem was, all I could do was sneak looks at Scott. His face a little pink from the sun, his hair blowing around in the salty wind, and those eyes piercing right through what I was supposed to start feeling for at least one of the Gasms.

  “Fine,” Tongue said, “I’ll go first. Dare.”

  “Now we’re talking,” Garrett motioned with his hands for the crew to zoom in. “Repeat, please,” he instructed.

  “Dare,” she said.

  Kappa smiled a perfect frat-boy-fun-time smile. “I dare you to kiss Chris,” he said, gesturing toward me with the hand holding his beer. It spilled down and along his fingers. He licked each one clean like he wanted in on the action, too.

  My face boiled as hot as the sun high in the sky above us, my stomach tilted in the I’m about to puke direction.

  “Is this show for your pleasure or Chris’s?” Allie asked, squinting at Kappa.

  “Oh,” Tongue said, licking her lips and aiming her sights on me, “When I kiss her it’s going to be all about her pleasure.” Her T-shirt was as tight as my throat suddenly felt. I could see her nipples poking through it.

  “I guess we’re getting right down to it,” I said, forcing myself to smile, because if I didn’t I might have screamed. The thoughts stacked in my head tumbled into a chaotic pile. I’d never kissed a girl before. Not even during college when most women check that off their sexual bucket list. It looked like MTV was going to be awarding me yet another first.

  Instead of walking over to me, Tongue paused, clearly sensing the ice-cold fear filling my veins.

  I wasn’t afraid to kiss a girl, but maybe I was afraid to do it on TV, maybe even more afraid that I would like it.

  “That’s not a dare for me,” she said, shaking her head, “that’s a dare for her.”

  “Fair enough,” Kappa said, a sinister smile saturating his lips, “kiss me then.”

  Cowboy watched their back and forth, their taunts as powerful as baseballs pitched at top speed.

  “Cut,” Garrett yelled, waving his hands around like he had fallen overboard. “This is about Chris.” He pointed at me. “Not you and your desires.” He gestured his chin at Kappa.

  “Watching them kiss is also my desire,” Kappa said.

  “Yours and more than half our viewing audience,” Garrett walked back to the camera crew. “Take it from the original dare. I want that kiss on tape.”

  I glanced at Scott. His eyes were on his shoes, his face suspiciously free of emotion. I wondered if seeing me and Tongue kiss was his desire, too. If maybe he couldn’t look me in the eye because he didn’t want to give that away.

  The cameras started rolling again. “I dare you to kiss Chris,” Kappa said, managing not to spill his beer this time.

  Tongue didn’t speak, didn’t protest. She too
k a shot of tequila the old fashioned way, licking just above her thumb with the tip of her tongue, shaking salt on her skin and tasting it, whipping back the glass, and finishing it off with a lime. She didn’t even wince.

  The lime still in her mouth like a tiny green smile, she sauntered over to me.

  My eyes felt like cameras as they zoomed and took in her every sensual step. She slithered across the deck like a snake, standing above my chaise for an interminable moment before straddling me. Still silent, the only sound the boat rocking against the waves, she slipped the lime out of her mouth and teased it along my neck. It was sticky and cold. It almost stung.

  “How do you want to do this, baby?” She pressed against me. Her closeness lit me on fire. I might not have been a lesbian, but damn if this girl wasn’t sexy.

  Damn if having her body on mine wasn’t making me reconsider.

  “You start,” I said, watching her lips, so plump and pink.

  She licked the lime juice from my neck, the ball in her tongue as hot as what I imagined a bullet might feel like as it sliced through you. She slid her lips along the base of my throat, against my jawline, before finally resting them against mine. Her kiss was a whisper, but what I wanted, what I craved from my gut was a roar.

  She sat back, appraising me. I reached out for her, trying to pull her closer.

  “That’s all you get for now.” She skimmed her fingers over my parched lips and stood. “Always leave them wanting more,” she said into the camera as she walked back over to the guys.

  “I think I’m in love,” Kappa said.

  I couldn’t breathe. My head was spinning. My whole body ached for release, any release.

  I must have been pale and clammy because Allie grabbed my wrist and whispered, “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I shook my head, trying to bring color back to my cheeks. “Yeah, fine.”

  But damn if I really was. Damn if I didn’t think I might be in love.

  “Truth or dare?” Tongue volleyed back at Kappa.

  “Truth,” he said.

  She sneered. “You have one too many of your frat brothers try to get you to blow them with a dare?”

  Kappa smiled and looked to where Garrett was standing behind the camera. “Just trying to keep it interesting.”