For Real(65)
I comfort myself with the thought that I’ll soon be back with Will, who sees who I really am. He beat me to the check-in point, so he’ll be able to pick me at the Proposal Ceremony, and I’m certain that he will. When we’re back at the hotel tonight, maybe I’ll sneak into his room again and tell him about my fight with my sister. He’ll know just what I should say to her—he’s good at understanding how people work. And then he can wrap me up in his arms and comfort me, and we can finish what we started at the masquerade party last night.
Everyone arrives within an hour, so it isn’t long before Isis calls us together for the Proposal Ceremony. Philadelphia and Aidan are eliminated, and a producer takes them off to do their exit interview. I should be thrilled to see Philadelphia go, but I have too much on my mind to care very much. Miranda reappears from wherever she’s been sulking and stands next to me, but she doesn’t look at me. I can’t wait until I can move away from her hostility and take my place next to Will.
“Before our Proposal Ceremony, I have a special five-thousand-dollar prize to award,” Isis says. “This prize goes to the racer who made the most romantic wish at the Temple of Aphrodite today. The winner of the Passionate Plea award is … Claire!”
Normally I’d be ecstatic to win five thousand dollars, but now I have to work to look happy and excited. “Thank you so much!” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “Um, you’re not going to reveal my wish, are you?”
Isis lets out one of her tinkling-bell laughs. “No, we’ll let you reveal it in your own time.” She winks at me, and I have to make a concerted effort not to roll my eyes.
It’s the boys’ turn to pick their partners first, and nobody is surprised when Martin chooses to stay with Zora. “Will, you arrived second,” Isis says. “Who would you like to spend the next leg of the race with?”
Across the circle, Will looks at me, just for a moment, and I’m so sure he’s about to say my name that I start to move toward him. But then his gaze shifts to my left, and he says, “I’d like to race with the gorgeous Janine, please.”
Wait, what? I freeze in my tracks as my brain scrambles for an explanation. Will’s good at playing the game, so there must be some way this will benefit both of us. Maybe he heard Miranda and me fighting about him during the pomegranate challenge, and he doesn’t want to come between us—after all, he refused to sit with me in the holding room at the very first audition for the same reason. I try to catch his eye again, hoping for a smile to reassure me that he has my best interests at heart. But he’s staring straight at Janine’s mile-long legs in her skin-tight running pants as she glides over to him. “I’m so glad you finally chose me,” she purrs, squeezing his arm.
Will gives her a dimpled smile, the one that was meant for me, and his hand settles into the small of her back. “I’m so glad I finally got a chance to choose you,” he says.
My heart turns to stone and plummets toward my feet, ripping holes in all the other organs in its path. This isn’t a strategic ploy or a well-hidden kindness. Despite all our easy intimacies and obvious sexual tension, despite the fact that he kissed me, told me I was hot, and called me a kick-ass woman, Will Divine doesn’t really want me after all. He wants Janine.
What did I do to make him change his mind? I know there was something real blossoming between us; it was obvious just a few hours ago. I run through all our interactions, all our glances and fleeting touches and flirtatious banter, desperate to figure out where I went wrong. But now all I can hear in my head is Will’s voice saying, Claire, you know there’s nothing actually real about reality TV, right? People will believe anything you tell them, as long as you commit to it.
And then I remember Miranda saying, I’m afraid that maybe you forget about the game when you’re with Will.
I did forget. I didn’t want to believe that all the affection and respect and support he showed me could be anything less than genuine. But Will lied to everyone about being a CEO’s son to get on the show, and there’s no reason to think the things he told me were any more real. Will’s not here to find his soul mate—he’s here to win a million dollars, just like everyone else. Flirting to gather allies is such an obvious, basic strategy, and if I had bothered to look past the smoke screen of dimples and compliments and bright blue eyes, I would’ve been able to see it coming a mile away.
How could I have been so gullible? And didn’t he feel guilty manipulating me when it was obvious how much I genuinely liked him? Maybe there’s nothing real about this show, but I’m a real person with real emotions. Doesn’t he have a conscience? Or is he so distracted by the money that compassion and empathy mean nothing to him?
And just like that, everything Miranda said to me earlier clicks into place, and I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. I’m just as guilty as Will is. I’ve spent every minute of this race single-mindedly trying to prove to my sister how strong and independent I am, how well I can strategize and complete challenges and plot revenge. But this isn’t the time or the place for that. Miranda was betrayed by someone she loved, and she must feel ten thousand times more helpless and confused and shattered than I do right now.
My sister doesn’t need revenge. She needs compassion. Miranda has told me over and over that she’s fine, that she can handle things alone, but she shouldn’t have to. That’s the whole point of having a sister.