One To Watch(30)

But as Bea listened to Lauren prattle on about ratings and demographics and watched the Pacific roll and crash in the gray, gloomy morning, she felt a twist in her gut. Last night, she’d only met these men. Starting today, she was going to have to date them.

“So talk to me,” Lauren was saying. “We’ve got eighteen men left, but only ten of them can go on your date today. Luc and Wyatt are already on everyone’s radar, so I need to bench them for the moment—don’t worry, you’ll do one-on-one dates with them in the next week or two. They’re gonna be great frontrunners, by the way—one good guy, one bad, I think we can set up a nice triangle.”

“Sounds great,” Bea agreed, without any real sense of what it meant.

“What about the rest of the guys? Anyone you want to spend more time with? We need to pick someone for your first kiss!”

“Honestly, I probably couldn’t pick most of them out of a lineup,” Bea muttered.

“Come on,” Lauren needled. “There’s not a single one who sticks out to you? Think back—or I can pull up some headshots if that would help?”

“Lauren.” Bea sighed. “We have to talk about the men you chose.”

Lauren frowned. “What about them?”

“The fact that you ignored everything I asked for? You promised me a really diverse range of men.”

Lauren looked bewildered. “This is the most diverse cast we’ve had in the history of the show!”

“Not by body type.” Bea’s throat was tight. “It’s one thing to keep the romance pretend, but being trapped onstage with a bunch of men who would never actually date me? I was humiliated. It felt like my body was a plot twist, or a joke.”

“Bea, I’m so sorry—I swear, that wasn’t my intention.” Lauren came over and sat beside Bea on the bed. “We talked about making this a fairy tale—I thought I was giving you a parade of handsome princes. And seeing all of them compete for you? We’re giving women a fantasy, right?”

“Sure, but if they don’t actually compete for me, the fantasy kind of falls apart.”

Lauren met Bea’s eye, the whole situation suddenly clicking into focus.

“The guy who walked out.” Lauren put a hand on Bea’s knee. “Again, I’m so sorry about that, but that was me, not him. I promise you that no other man will do that, that the rest of them are here until you decide to get rid of them. Well, until we decide together.”

Bea raised her eyebrows, and Lauren laughed. “Look, this season is going to have villains just like every other, but don’t forget that I’m the one running the show, okay? When our villains are assholes to you, I’ll always make sure that you look like a hero and they look like pure evil.”

“And you’re sure I’ll look like a hero and not the fat girl no one asked to prom?”

“My hand to God, the whole country will see you as the prom queen before this thing is done,” she promised. “Now. Can we go through the rest of the men you have here, so you can pick which one gets to be your first kiss? Maybe Jefferson would be a good choice, help you ease into things?”

“Because he’s the only one who isn’t thin?” Bea shot Lauren a pointed look.

“Bea, you’re the one who seems uncomfortable with the rest of the men, not me. If you’d rather kiss one of them, I’d be thrilled.”

Bea thought back to the men from last night, tried to imagine kissing them—the ones she remembered anyway. She flashed on one man: black hair, olive skin, green eyes.

“There was a guy who worked in politics? I couldn’t tell if he was genuine, but he seemed happy to meet me, at least?”

“Marco.” Lauren’s eyes lit up. “He’s really smart and so handsome—I think he’s a great first kiss. You feel good about him?”

“As good as I feel about any of them, I guess,” Bea demurred.

“Great! Then I’d better get going.” Lauren hopped up and headed for the door.

“Where to?”

“To talk to him, obviously.” She grinned. “I’m your producer, Bea. I’m the one who makes everything happen.”

As Lauren left the room, Bea took a moment to process what she’d just agreed to do: Today, on camera, she was going to kiss a man for the first time since last summer with Ray. She felt a wave of disloyalty, or maybe even guilt, which was ridiculous—she wasn’t with Ray. He was with his fiancée.

So why couldn’t Bea shake the feeling that this was a truly terrible idea?


Once she’d thrown on sweats and had some coffee, Bea made her way down to wardrobe, where Alison was waiting with a gorgeous Reem Acra caftan fabricated in sumptuous red silk. Bea couldn’t fathom why her stylists had loaded her up with so much hairspray, but once a camera crew escorted her to the back of the house, she understood: A little speedboat was waiting to ferry her to an opulent yacht anchored a few hundred yards offshore, where she’d meet ten men for her first official date.

“Holy crap.” Bea laughed with amazement, taking in the yacht that gleamed pearl white against the vividly blue Pacific, finding it difficult to believe it was actually there for her. On her brief speedboat ride, with two cameras trained on her face, Bea breathed in the salt and spray and allowed herself to relax. Filming this show wasn’t just going to be the pressure of interacting with all these men; it was also going to be staggering luxury and once-in-a-lifetime experiences. She needed to be grateful and enjoy them.