Page 67 of Heart to Heart
I nodded, remembering the language in the encyclopedia of a contract I’d had to sign before hopping on the plane to travelout here. “Of course, I remember, and I’m not in any kind of a romantic relationship.”
No sooner had I finished that sentence than the door to the interview room flew open and Tristan rushed in, surprising even Kamila, which meant this interruption hadn’t been planned. He’d cleaned up since our time in the hot tub, donning khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt. The tail end of his snake tattoo just barely poked out from the bottom of his sleeve, transporting me back to our time in the hot tub. An ache from an unfulfilled need came over me, forcing me to cross my legs.
An interrogation is neither the time nor the place to get horny, Avery.
“Tristan,” Kamila greeted the show’s star, “aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” Kamila had quickly recovered, and the way they were beaming told me that Tristan’s unexpected barging in would be used extensively in promo materials for this episode.
“We cut it short,” he said matter-of-factly, as he moved to stand across the table from me. I looked up at him, making eye contact with him, my stomach plummeting to the floor. Gone was the gentleness in his eyes, replaced with concern? Anger? Disappointment? I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on in his mind, but I could feel my heart begin to shatter at the thought that he may believe I’d come here with a boyfriend back home. Even if he wasn’t entirely sure, his walls were back up.
“I was just meeting with Avery here,” Kamila began again, “and I’d just asked her about…”
“I know why she’s here,” Tristan interrupted. “Do we really need cameras in here for this?” Kamila looked at him like he’d lost his mind. He shook his head, frustrated. “Of course we do,” he muttered. He turned to me, his eyes softening, yet his posture guarded. “Is it true?”
“No,” I answered him, making it a point not to break eye contact. “I’m not seeing anyone.”
What looked like relief washed over him as he turned to Kamila. “See? She says it’s nonsense. Let’s cut the cameras off and let her leave.”
“Not yet.” Kamila pulled out a laptop from a bag that had been under the table and placed it on top of it. “Not until I show you something.”
Kamila turned the laptop around in view of, mainly, the camera and played a video. On the screen, bartender Ryan-not-Reynolds-Gosling appeared. He sat behind The Thirst Trap’s bar, talking to Hugh Harrison, the smarmyPeep Holereporter around whom I wouldn’t dream of leaving a drink unattended.
Hugh:“So, Ryan. You hooked up with Avery Martin in this very bar. Is that true?”
Ryan:“Well, I wouldn’t say hooked up, exactly, but we had a pretty close encounter on the dance floor before she left.”
Hugh:“From the photograph floating around, it looks like the two of you were making out. Tell me you took her home later.”
Ryan: “Yeah, girl knows how to kiss…”
I gasped, angry, mortified, and defeated, all at the same time. “That—that’s not true,” I stammered.
Tristan’s hands balled into fists at his side. In his movies, he always looked sexy angry, but real-life anger on Tristan was frightening. It was the same look he’d had on his face during his encounter with the paparazzi so many years ago.
Ryan: “No, I didn’t go home with her. But I did give her my number, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to call me when she gets back. She was pretty into me.”
“Ryan Reynolds-Gosling is a dirty liar,” I blurted out, my anger matching Tristan’s.
“So, none of that’s true?” Kamila asked, shutting the laptop.
“No,” I began, “well, I mean.” I looked over at Tristan who stood studying me, the expression on his face pleading with me to put this to bed. “It’s true that we met at the bar, that I danced with him at the end of the night, and that he gave me his number. Only it’s absolutelynottrue that we kissed each other, or that I even still have his number to call him.”
“But were you into him?” Kamila asked. Of course they would.
I closed my eyes, knowing that if I lied, all the truths I had just told wouldn’t be believed. “Yes,” I answered. “Ryan is a good-looking, charismatic guy, and I’m a single woman. Yes, I was into him. Although I will say that if I would have known he were as big a douchebag as he clearly is, I never would have even looked at him twice.”
Tristan nodded, leaning both hands on the table as he stole a glance at Kamila as if to ask,Are we done now?
“If you were into him, what stopped you from going home with him that night?”
Kamila was known for asking contestants questions that made them squirm in their seats. The more intrusive, the better, seemed to be their motto. Except this question, I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Because at one point, I’m sure it had crossed my mind. I wouldn’t have. But the reason why had nothing to do with morals and everything to do with having my eye on the prize for the sake of my family. That was an answer I couldn’t give to Kamila.
“I’d just met the guy, and I was coming here.” It was the only truthful way to answer the question, even if it was vanilla in comparison to what they’d been looking for.
“Okay, then.” They stood up. “I guess our interview is over. Let’s just hope the viewers at home believe you over Mr. Davey.”
I nodded, standing up from my chair to leave the room. Tristan had already made his way out the door, and I quickened my pace to catch up to him. “Can we talk?”
He stopped, his shoulders slumping as he turned to face me. “I can’t, Avery. I already have time I need to make up with Bianca and I need to start my date with Tatiana. We’ll talk about this some other time.” With that, he turned around and headed to the parlor.
