But we’re both in it, and he’s so good at it.
I could be good at it, too.
“But I do want to help. That’s part of why I volunteered to bring up the ice.”
Intrigued, I watch him. He leans in close to me—so close we could practically kiss—and says, “Kendall is coming for you.”
I pull away, surprised. “What the fuck does that mean?”
He shrugs. “Just telling you what I hear.”
I quickly look around again to make sure no one is listening to us. “But just now . . . I thought we were getting along.”
Again, he shrugs. “Kendall’s playing the game. You get girls like her sometimes, superfans who know what they’re doing. Her cousin was on the show two years ago. I’d just watch out and see how it goes.”
“You’re just trying to play me against her, aren’t you?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him, and a corner of his mouth lifts as his eyes rove my loungewear.
“You want to do a shot?” he asks me.
“What?” I ask, pulling back from him. “Like, now?”
“Obviously,” he answers.
Henry’s eyes are like closed doors. Dark brown and stupidly infinite. I wonder so often if he even knows anymore what is authentic and what is absolute horseshit, because I don’t.
“Yeah,” I say. “I want to do a shot.”
“Meet me out by the pool,” he tells me. “I’m going to tell the girls we need to clear it out for something tonight.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I want to hang out with you without everyone else around,” he tells me easily. I didn’t know that was something he was allowed to say to me.
“Fine.”
“Ten minutes,” he says. “Then come down.”
I do as instructed, go back into the room, where Kendall has somehow managed to fall asleep despite all the noise in the house. I have no doubt many of the girls plan to stay up late drinking because the elimination ceremony is tomorrow night. For a couple of them, it will be the last chance.
After I grab a hair tie and go to the bathroom to check my makeup, I make my way down the stairs, sneak past the party in the kitchen, and out the back door, walking to the far side of the pool. Henry is lying on a lounge chair, holding a bottle of whiskey. I blanch.
“You trying to get me drunk?” I ask wryly.
“Never,” he says. “Two-drink maximum, remember?” We all got reminded of that pretty frequently; the rule was put in place five seasons ago to protect the contestants from themselves.
“Seriously?” I ask, plopping down on the chair next to him, facing him and keeping both my feet on the ground.
“Nah,” he says, and we both laugh. “Fuck it. Let’s have fun tonight. Consider this my apology for earlier.”
“Here.” He scoops up the shot glasses on the chair in front of him, pours me a shot and then one for himself. Our fingers brush as he hands mine over, and I try not to think about it even though I already have. We clink our glasses together and drink. Henry sets down his shot glass next to the whiskey bottle on the ground and then pulls the earpiece out of his ear and sets it down next to him, a move too unsubtle for me to think he doesn’t want me to notice.
I sigh contentedly and shift to lean back in my own lounge chair, letting the mild LA night roll over me.
“I got my job on the 1 because I was good at taking shots.”
“I don’t believe that,” I say, looking over at him quickly.
He smiles. “I’m dead-ass serious.”
“Okay, I’m intrigued. Why?”
“They needed an assistant who could go shot for shot with contestants until they got drunk enough to say whatever horrible and/or hilarious thing we needed them to say.”
“And that was you?”
“Try not to be too impressed,” he says with false smugness. “The first time I met John, he said, ‘Who is that blacked-out Asian kid?’ And I stared back at him, fucked out of my mind, and said, ‘I’m hapa, you dick.’ Mind you, that was before two-drink minimums existed.”
I giggle at that. “Who is John?”
“You haven’t met John?” he asks. Then he thinks about it and says, “Well, I guess not that many of the contestants do. John Apperson, the creator of this little show you’re on.”
“Will I meet him?” I ask, intrigued.
“Probably,” Henry says. “He’ll love you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Henry almost looks like he’ll laugh as he says, “He likes hot, mean women.”
