“Nothing,” he tells me then. “Let’s just finish this godforsaken night so we can drive back to Charlotte and go to sleep.”
“Fair enough,” I agree. “Just promise me I don’t have to say it.”
Almost imperceptibly, he sinks down the wall slightly. He’s still leaning against it, staring at me in a way that makes me one hundred percent sure he wants to push me against the wall, relive that night in Chicago all over again.
He shakes his head. “Don’t,” he mouths to me.
I hold my hand out, and he takes it, barely, and then lets it slide between his fingers. At the same time, we go our separate ways.
Before I leave, I hug them all. Eileen and Austin and Mom and Dad.
My mom hangs on to me the longest, both hands on the side of my face as she pulls away.
“Don’t let anyone decide who you are for you, Jac,” she says, leaning her forehead into mine.
I breathe in her scent for a moment, her perfume and detergent.
“I love you,” I say, and that still means something. I saved it for them. “I love you all.”
Marcus walks with me to the car I have to drive away in on camera, his fingers loose against mine. “Your family’s nicer than you,” he says with a smile.
“Heard that one before.”
“It’s cruel,” he says, “to part from you, isn’t it?”
We stare at each other, a certain heat still between us, a different kind of challenge, and for the first time since Mexico, when he kisses me, I don’t want to recoil.
I get into the car, in a seat next to Henry. To my surprise, Priya is in the car, sitting in a seat opposite us. This can’t be a good sign. “Please tell me we’re done,” I say, more to Priya than Henry.
Priya doesn’t say anything for a moment, her eyes on me, somewhere near homicidal. “We’re done,” she says. “You two are done.”
I look at Henry, an eyebrow raised, but he doesn’t return my gaze. However, my gesture redirects Priya’s ire toward Henry. “You,” she begins, her voice accusatory, “have always thought you were above the rules, but you’ve never been stupid before. Jesus, you’re practically drooling over her in front of her family.”
Henry’s eyes are on his lap. He doesn’t respond.
“You tired of playing for the patriarchy yet, Priya?” I ask.
“You clearly actively want us to hate you,” Priya says, turning on me just as fast. “I don’t spend months a year away from my family to deal with assholes like you. Self-sabotage on your own time because I’m fucking sick of it. I’m sick of both of you! Not everything is about you. We have a show to run, and you are not the main characters. Cut—it—out.”
“Are you—are we . . . not together anymore?” I finally manage to say. Henry still isn’t responding.
“The team isn’t stupid,” Priya says. “We all know Henry is the only reason we’re getting anything out of you. It’s two and a half more weeks, and if you two don’t get your shit together, I will take great joy in personally delivering the lawsuits brewing for both of you. Seriously, Henry, this message is from God above, do you hear me?”
Henry finally looks up, his face clear. “Got it,” he says.
“And my favorite delightful contestant? You willing to go toe-to-toe with that contract you signed?”
I sigh deeply. Mostly, I just want to go to sleep. “Fine,” I say. “Whatever. We’re already on the threshold of hell. What’s the worst that could happen?”
No one says anything.
Jac’s DMs
Monday, 8:33 p.m.
You are a whore.
Monday, 9:02 p.m.
Imagine being such a terrible role model for children everywhere. I hope you die.
Monday, 9:04 p.m.
I’m surprised no one has come to your house to rape and murder you yet.
Monday, 10:02 p.m.
Die.
Monday, 10:45 p.m.
Die.
Monday, 11:17 p.m.
Die.
Tuesday, 5:40 a.m.
