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Dante is portrayed as the player with the various women he brought to his room. One night he even had two women. Which honestly isn’t that scandalous, but I’m more shocked I couldn’t hear the enjoyment of their night from my room. Because you could in this clip as the closed door indicates what’s happening inside.
Justin has clips of him working out and eating healthy. Leaving out all the steroids I knew he took.
Honestly, I find none of this entertaining. There are clips of drama breaking out across the house. Tori and I, mostly.
My clips are mainly of Tucker and I. Building up a friendship until you see him rescue me and us cuddling.
The clips of Branson and I are scattered out and build up so much sexual tension on TV, it’s ridiculous. Yes, there was sexual tension, but this is played up. At this point, it looked like I was in a love triangle.
The show ends with the weed brownies. I am mortified. Watching everyone laugh and make fun of us as we were completely blindsided and out of it. The last scene is Branson and I with his hands on the hem of my shirt, ready to tug it off, and then the screen goes black.
I avert my eyes, hiding a yawn behind my hand as I stand, ready to get the hell out of here and into my room.
“Tune in next week to see what happens next. I promise you don’t want to miss it,” Tori's voice comes over a video clip of us all together.
Tucker claps and everyone joins in. Everyone but me.
I can’t help it. I laugh. Everyone looks over to me. Confusion on their faces.
“I’m sorry.” I cover my mouth. “But people actually watch that?”
“Yes. Millions,” Tucker replies dryly.
“That’s… that’s absurd. The whole show is cringe-worthy.”
Everyone scowls at me as I get up. Excusing myself before I get beat up. I’m not infatuated with myself or with people who had it easier than me. Watching that was about as fun as getting a staple gun launched into each of my fingers. Painful and not my idea of a good time. Exiting the living room, I run up the stairs until I am unlocking my room. Buried under my covers in a large man's shirt, cuddled up with my book, I finally find entertainment.
* * *
A loud scream stops me and Tucker from finishing our shared monster Sunday.
Looking at each other with our eyes wide, Tucker says, “The fuck was that?”
Like most things in my life, I become uninterested. Shrugging, I say, “No clue.”
I’m about to take another bite of the triple chocolate, double strawberry, creamy deliciousness when Tori storms in, her eyes narrowed at me. “Want to explain to me why Rayson is tending?” I squint at her.
“What’s Rayson?” I ask, taking a scoop of my ice cream. The vanilla bean melts on my tongue as the thick chocolate syrup sticks to the roof of my mouth, and the strawberry smashed between my teeth releases juice into the mixture, creating heaven. Yep, if heaven had a taste, it was this goodness.
“God.” She groans. “It’s your and Branson’s couple name. You’re not supposed to have a couple name. Branson and I are supposed to have a couple name.” She stomps her foot, resembling a small child who was informed they wouldn’t be having dessert since they hadn’t finished dinner.
“Gross,” I reply, uninterested. Who cares?
“Why does everyone like you? You’re not even that pretty.” She pouts, hands clenched at her sides.
“Ouch,” I whisper, setting my spoon down. “Personality is key, Tori. Maybe try getting a new one.”
“Preach.” Tucker points his spoon at the air, like I had dropped a dope line in a rap song he could get behind.
“My personality is just fine, thank you!” she screams, her face heating with anger.
“It’s not, but self-love is important. Good for you.” I give her a thumbs up as Tucker chokes on his ice cream. Who knew you could choke on something that melts?
She storms out of the kitchen, double doors slamming as if the show she just put on wasn’t dramatic enough. Tucker and I burst out laughing.
“She’s such a brat,” Tucker says, taking our bowl to the sink.
“I kind of feel bad for her. Can you imagine being so bitter inside it rots the outside?”
