Page 15 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“It’s whatever you want it to be, Sommerfeld. Now play nice, all right?” He pats me on the back before all but shoving me toward the group of girls standing around. A few of them shoot me glares, but some of them give me soft smiles before continuing the conversations they were already having.

I continue walking, trying to find a place out of the way of everyone else to stand or sit. Although my head is on a swivel, I somehow still run directly into a girl with fiery red hair.

She spins around, shock plastered on her face. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” She’s got a bit of a Southern accent, the kind that immediately comes to mind when you think of country music. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s from Georgia or one of the surrounding states.

I raise an eyebrow. “No need to apologize. I was the one who ran into you.”

“I know, it’s a bad habit of mine.” She extends a hand. “I’m Sage.”

“Baylor.” I take it and get a better look at her. She’s beautiful, with lush, bouncy curls and full curves. She doesn’t fit the typical image for reality TV—I hate that my mind immediately goes there, but it’s not entirely false. Most of our competing reality shows cast max size-two women, so it’s refreshing to see Sparks Studio Productions prioritizing diversity.

“I don’t think I saw you earlier this week. But then again, there were so many people here that it’s hard to keep track as it is.” She laughs, her eyes gleaming.

“Yeah, there are a ton of people here. I’m not sure how the producers keep everyone straight.” I chuckle nervously.

“Producers? I don’t know howDustyis able to keep everyone straight. But at least he only has to get to know ten of us, right? Actually, that’s not very reassuring,” she says, her mouth moving a mile a minute.

“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” I try to reassure her.

“Right, right. I’m getting ahead of myself. I need to not get so worked up over it. What’s meant to be, will be, right?” She gives me a tight smile, but her nerves reflect in her eyes. Is this how I should be feeling? I mean, I’m nervous, but it’s for an entirely different reason.

“Ladies, if I could get your attention please!” As Colette St. James walks through the sea of women, all eyes snap toward her.“We’re about to start filming, so if everyone could please listen for a moment.”

“Here we go.” Sage gives me a nervous glance as the other women crowd around Colette, although the chattering doesn’t completely stop.

Whispers of, “Will Dusty be here tonight?” and, “I hope I don’t go home,” can be heard from all sides of me.

I’m wedged between Sage and a dark-haired girl with a sharp stare and fox-like features. We make eye contact for a split second, and while I give her a soft smile, she looks me up and down, assessing me. Instead of acknowledging me, she lets out a puff of air, a tiny smirk creeping into her lips.

All right, then.

“Okay, ladies, here’s how this is going to work. There are a lot of you tonight, so we want to make this as quick as possible so you can get settled and ready for a big day of filming tomorrow.” Colette steps out onto center stage, her heels clicking against the laminate floor. “We’ll be calling the names of only the contestants that made it through. Ten of you will advance. Twenty of you will be going home.”

Whispers intensify as the reality of what is going to happen sets in. It finally feels like an actual competition.

“If your name is announced, you’ll walk out on center stage then line up on the risers. Got it?”

Heads bob up and down around me.

“Great. Let’s roll.” Colette gestures to the cameramen before the host of the show steps out onto the stage as the space floods with lights and music starts playing.

“Welcome back toHeart Strings! I’m your host Jarrod Stone. You’ve seen women from around the country sing their hearts out for the chance to win over Dusty Wilder’s heart. Tonight, ten of those women will move forward.

“Every week, there will be eliminations, and every week you, the viewers, will have the opportunity to vote and save one of the bottom contestants to give them another shot at winning Dusty’s heart and a record deal.

“Now, without further ado, let’s meet the women!”

Jarrod announces the first couple women, and even though I know I’m making it through, my heart still races.

“Next up, we’ve got Aspen!”

The fox-faced girl next to me gives me the side-eye as she plasters on a smile and steps forward, heading to center stage.

Great. Of course, she made the cut.

Six of the ten names are called, and they still haven’t announced me yet. I wouldn’t put it past Colette to do some dramatic reveal, but it’s also my understanding that they want to keep my real identity a secret. After all, it wouldn’t be a great look for the production company if everyone knew that they had planted someone on the show.

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