Page 77 of Playing With My Heart Strings

“Well, first of all, none of us thought you would end up being on the show and she was chosen for auditions before I made the drunken mistake of posting that video of you online. Still kinda feel guilty for that, by the way, but then again you’re literally fucking Dusty Wilder, so you’re welcome. Secondly, she’s gone, so even if she did remember you, it’s unlikely anything will come of it.”

“What if she goes to the media?”

“I highly doubt she would do that. She signed an NDA, and Colette would squash any gossip articles immediately. I don’t think Aspen is that stupid. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” As if she senses I would ask her why she even brought it up, shesays, “You wanted to know if I found any information on her, and this felt important for you to know.”

“I appreciate it. Do the producers know?” I ask, wanting to cover our bases.

She nods. “Alex knows.” I don’t miss how she breaks eye contact with me for a split second and her face has a slight pink tint to it.

“Hold on. Are you and Alex?—”

At the most convenient timing, Daniella’s phone starts ringing. “I’m so sorry, I really need to take this. Don’t worry about Aspen, okay? Just keep doing what you’re doing. Maybe besides sneaking around with Dusty Wilder, but in terms of your on-camera chemistry, you’re doing great!” she babbles as she quickly slips out the door.

I take a few breaths before following, careful not to let the office door slam and alert anyone who might be in the hallway.

It doesn’t matter, though, because once I pick up my head to continue walking down the hall, I run directly into Colette, nearly stepping on her feet.

“H-hi, Colette. So sorry, I didn’t see you there,” I fumble over my words as I try to step around her. Instead of stepping out of the way like I expect her to, she grabs my arm to stop me. “Did you need something?”

“Final four, Baylor. Who would have thought? You must feel pretty good about yourself.”

I squint, giving her a sidelong glance, as I try to figure out if it’s just Colette being passive aggressive or if there’s something else she’s trying to say.

“Yeah, I don’t know what happened.” I shrug, trying to be as nonchalant as possible while keeping my voice low. “I trust Dusty’s judgment, though.” I’m not going to let Colette St. James scare me. I mean, shedoesscare me, but now that I know what I want, I’m not going to let her take it away.

“Hopefully he makes the right choice in the end.” She purses her lips as her eyebrows raise just a little bit. “Don’t you agree?”

“Mhm,” I hum, finally deciding to just step around her so I can get away from this uncomfortable situation.

“Oh, and Baylor? No one can know who you really are, remember.” Her condescending tone makes me pause. “It would be bad for ratings. Imagine what would happen if the viewers knew you worked for us. Not to mention what Dusty would think.”

My back is still turned to her, so I nod, acknowledging her…warning? Threat? There’s no telling when it comes to Colette.

“It would be career-ending,” she continues, and my shoulders tense. “I know you have big goals. Just keep that in mind.”

I do have big goals, or at least I did before I came on the show and realized music was something I actually wanted to pursue. I never thought about what would happen if I didn’t make it to the end. I assumed my job would still be there, but now Colette has me questioning things. She must suspect my intention to eventually leave Sparks Studio Productions and pursue public relations in a different sector.

I slowly turn around, ready to ask her what she meant or make some kind of retort, but she’s already walking away.

31

dusty

Bluebird

It’s becomeobvious the producers are trying to push me toward Valerie or Katherine as my final pick, based on the nature of our dates. My solo with Valerie last night was a private dinner and firework show, and Katherine’s was a couple’s spa day.

I’m not sure why Baylor isn’t higher on their list. I feel like I have the most romantic chemistry with her, but I’ve begun to catch onto the producers’ reactions when I give them updates on how I’m feeling and who I’m liking the most. There’s always a subtle exchange of concerned—or maybe confused—glances from the crew. The thing is, no one ever asks questions, they just make faces then go on about their day. It throws me off my game a little bit each time, but I don’t have the guts to ask them why they react the way they do.

Today’s date is going to be special, though. The producers wanted to film it yesterday, but I convinced them to move it to today. I might regret it tomorrow when we’re all on a planeheaded to Atlanta for the next live concert, but that’s a bridge I’ll cross when I get there.

The car pulls up to the hotel where the girls are staying, and I hop out of the backseat just as Baylor walks out the front doors.

“Careful, you’ll catch flies with your mouth open like that,” she teases.

“Can’t help it when you look like that.”

She’s got on a navy-blue dress that falls mid-thigh with loose, puffy sleeves, a plunging neckline, and straps that tie into a bow on the back. Her hair’s straight today, and I get a whiff of her perfume: cashmere and vanilla. I take another moment to appreciate her, but when she reaches for the car door handle, I snap out of it.

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