Page 26 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

“Usable,” Leah mutters to herself. “Okay, we’re done. Go eat.”

Relieved, I get to my feet. Blood rushes to my head, and I waver before catching myself. I really need some food in me.

I hurry to catch up with Chase, who’s already making a beeline for the catering tent. We pass by the winners’ cabana, and I crane my neck to see if I can get a glimpse of Daniel. When I do, I wish I hadn’t.

Daniel and Selena are snuggled up together in a white hammock with a fluffy blanket across their laps. The PAs must’ve worked hard to set this all up, because it’s the picture of a romantic getaway: Strings of tropical flowers dangle from the cabana ceiling and candles cast a soft, warm glow. Selena is resting her head on Daniel’s chest. His arm is tucked around her, and I can see the swell of his muscles gleaming in the candlelight.

There’s a tattoo that circles Daniel’s bicep, a series of thick dashes. He definitely didn’t havethatwhen we were in high school.

Daniel was cute back then. I would’ve rather died than admit it, but it’s the truth. He had this dorky haircut and his uniform was always too big for his frame, but the way he grinned when his team pulled into the lead—it was like there was a magnetic field around him, pulling my gaze in. But seeing him now, I’m struck by how he’s both the same infuriating team captain I knew from so many years ago and someonecompletely different. His cocky attitude has mellowed out into an easy, understated confidence, and he’s handsome in this comfortable, effortless way. He looks like he’d be right at home on a page of Instagram thirst traps or strolling down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.

In the cabana there’s also a couple of crew members, a cameraperson, and Peter Dixon himself. As we pass by, I can hear Selena brightly saying her soundbites and nailing every one of them.

“One thing’s for sure. We’re in for one hell of a ride!” Selena chirps for the camera.

“Perfect,” Peter Dixon says. “Mark that take. Use it in all the promo spots. That delivery was, mwah, chef’s kiss.”

Selena beams. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. We all want this show to be a hit, Mr. Dixon.”

“With your help, it will be,” he says. “Seth, I think we’re done here. Enjoy your night, folks.”

While Selena and Daniel hang back to chat with their producer, Seth, Peter Dixon and another producer start walking toward the catering tent—and toward us. I speed up, hoping to avoid any small talk, but Chase waves to them.

“Bryan, Mr. Peter Dixon, hi!” Chase calls. The producer named Bryan gives Chase one of those upward nods that bros do when they see each other in the wild. He must be Chase’s lacrosse friend who got us onto this show.

“Chase and Alice, was it?” Peter Dixon asks, offering Chase a handshake. He reaches for my hand next, but I’m still a bit unsteady on my feet. Instead of shaking his hand, I end up patting his arm. “What’d you think about your first day on the island?”

“It sucks,” I blurt out.

“Shit, what happened?” Peter Dixon asks, looking genuinely concerned. “Who do I have to fire?”

He’s joking, I think. “No one! Everything’s been great. I just mean, we almost lost,” I rush to explain.

“Almostis the key word there,” Peter Dixon says. “You’re not outyet, so you still have a fighting chance. And hey, I’ve got a good feeling about you two. I’m rooting for you.”

“Damn right,” Chase says, slinging an arm around me. “We’re taking this all the way to the top, baby!”

“Hell yeah,” Bryan says, high-fiving Chase.

Peter Dixon holds up his phone. “Duty calls. You all have a good night now,” he says, and veers away from the path to the catering tent.

Once Peter Dixon’s gone, Bryan brings Chase in for a one-armed hug, clapping his back. In this light, he looks a bit like Chase, if Chase had close-cropped brown hair, a PGA Tour baseball cap, and a trust fund.

“Good to see you, man,” he says. “I’m glad you both made it on the show. Saved my ass, actually. This new kid Anton thinks he’s some kind of hotshot, but he’s the worst PA ever. Managed to erase half the database of talent we had lined up, and it turns out it wasn’t in the cloud. Took weeks to sort that out.”

“Happy to help,” Chase says. “Anything for a lax bro.”

“Thanks for thinking of us,” I say.

“Of course.” Bryan jerks a thumb toward Peter Dixon’s back. “Anyway, I gotta go. Dawn Taylor wants me to tail him, make sure he gets where he needs to go. Peter Dixon’s a great guy, real Hollywood trail-blazer, but he’d lose his Stanley mug if it weren’t in his hand. See you around.”

“How do you know him again?” I ask after Bryan gives Chase a goodbye that consists of three more fist bumps than is strictly necessary. “You said you were on the lacrosse team together?”

“Yeah, in college. We go way back. We met in freshman year and took a few lectures together. I lost touch with him after he moved out to Hollywood, but he reached out that day when, you know…”

“When my mom’s apartment nearly went up in flames,” I say.

“Yep. Why do you ask?”

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