Page 57 of Most Eligible
“Lots of funny things I’ve been finding around,” Lainey says in that same icy tone, her eyes sweeping over the pool. “Tampons, underwear, cell phones.” Her gaze lands back on me and it’s clear. She knows. Beside me, Nina sits up straighter, and I silently beg her not to tell Lainey that they’re my jeans, my phone.
She clears her throat. I’m gone, I just know it.
“It’s mine,” Nina says.
Brooklyn gasps, clutching her heart.
I stare at Nina, horrorstruck. “No,” I whisper. Rhett turns around, forgetting himself, and stares at her, open-mouthed.
Nina glances at me, smiles reassuringly. “I know what I’m doing,” she whispers. As elegantly as a goddess, she rises from the pool, fully nude, and drips toward Lainey. Pink in the face, Rhett shuffles around again so he’s facing the bushes.
Olie is chomping so furiously on her chips that I almost can’t hear what Nina says next.
“I’ve been using it to call home and check on my daughter,” she tells Lainey. “The daily video calls aren’t enough—I needed a way to get in contact in case anything was wrong.”
Lainey’s face falls, eyes stealing to me. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, these are Georgia’s pants.”
Nina grits her teeth. “They’re mine,” she growls.
A muscle in Lainey’s cheek twitches, but other than that, she gives no indication that she knows Nina is lying. Instead, she digs the knife deeper. “Prove it.”
Nina grabs the jeans from Lainey and pulls them over her wet legs. Once they’re on, Lainey hooks a finger inside the waistband, yanking her forward.
“They don’t look your size.”
“I like them like this,” Nina says, her face an inch from Lainey’s. “After having a baby, things fit me differently. And unless you’re going to have every naked woman here try them on like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Yeast Infection, you should believe me.”
For a second, I think Lainey is about to parade each of us up and into the jeans, but instead, she releases Nina, who grabs the phone.
“I’m leaving,” she says, crossing her arms over her bare chest. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too hard for me to be away from my daughter. I’d like to say goodbye to Roland, if I’m allowed.”
Lainey huffs but recovers from the whole situation masterfully fast. “I want everyone in the sitting room in thirty minutes, fully clothed. That includes you, Rhett,” she says, practically spitting his name. With that, she goes back inside, shouting, “Where thehellare Roland and Addison?”
The handheld camera is discarded, dollies brought out, hidden cameras probably rolling again. All bets of secrecy are off. I hurry over to Nina and wrap her in a hug even though she’s half-naked and soaking wet. She puts her arms around me, but as I start to thank her, she cuts me off, whispering fast.
“I had to, Georgia. Don’t thank me—it was the right thing to do. I wanted to leave anyway—it was never going to be me and Roland, but I think you have a real chance at finding something here.” She looks over my shoulder and I follow her gaze toward Rhett, who is standing on the periphery of the patio.
“How did you—”
Her hands fumble at my waist, the cool metal of the phone pressing to my stomach, trapped in the hem of my tight top. “I think I’ve gotta keep the pants though,” she whispers. “Give ’em hell, querida.”
“What’s going on?” Roland sprints onto the scene and collides with Nina. He looks her up and down, his face flushing. His shirt is untucked, hair messy, and he has a conspicuous lipstick mark on his jaw. Olie lets out a growl as Addison tiptoes behind him and perches on the edge of the pool beside Brooklyn, who turns pointedly away from her.
Once we’ve all gotten dressed, and I’ve hidden the burner safely back in my bag, we gather downstairs. Philippa and Chloe finally join the group again, both looking giggly and sheepish.
“Jesus,” Olie mutters to me and Brooklyn. “Is everyone having sex except us?”
I pull the collar of my shirt higher, hoping Rhett didn’t leave any marks on my skin aside from the goosebumps still crawling up and down my back.
“Things are going to be different moving forward.” Lainey’s loafers click-clack across the floor. “If I hear that anyone else is hiding phones or sneaking around, you’ll be out like that.” She snaps her fingers, making me wince.
Roland is sitting off to the side, nursing coffee like it’s a baby bottle. My eyes pass between him and Addison, the matching lipstick stain on his skin and her lips.
“You have two days before this week’s elimination ceremony,” Lainey says. “Most of you won’t see Roland until then. I suggest you shape up and think about what you’ve done. Roland, Addison—with me, now.” She snaps her fingers, and Roland and Addison shuffle off after her, though I doubt they’ll get in trouble.
“I heard she’s seeing someone at home,” Monica whispers. She seems to have recovered from earlier, but dark circles still ring her eyes.
“Where’d you hear that?” Olie asks.
