Page 73 of Most Eligible
I sniff the glass. “And vodka helps with that?”
“Oh, come on.” She laughs. “Have a little fun! It’s just us girls.”
My tolerance isn’t that low, but there’s nothing in my stomach, since I woke up too late for breakfast.
“You first,” I say.
She considers me for a beat, then takes the drink and gulps it down, smacking her lips. She pours out more vodka and scoots it toward me. Now I have no excuse. When I pour it down my throat, it makes my whole body quake.
She grabs the bottle and refills the glass. As painful as it is, I know this moment will be key when I drag Lainey through the mud. Staring her down, I toss the second shot back, imagining the words I’ll use to burn her reputation to the ground.
The rumors of forcing contestants to drink were always some of the most tenuous—they’re easy to discount because how does someoneforceyou to drink something? Isn’t it always a choice? And on a show with so much flowing booze, it’d be easy to assume that contestants get plastered all on their own. But the burning in my throat tells a different story.
“You know, Georgia, I don’t like a liar.”
Her words hit me as the alcohol slides sickeningly into my stomach.
“What are you talking about?” My throat throbs.
“I know you were in Rhett’s room,” she says.
Even though I suspected this, it knocks the wind out of me.
Lainey picks at her perfect French-tipped fingernails and sighs dramatically. “WhatwillRoland think—because you’ll have to tell him, right? Unless you want your whole relationship to be based on a lie.”
“It’s ended,” I splutter, mouth dry. “It’s over.” Isn’t that what Rhett told her?
“I know it’s over,” she says. We’re talking about me and Rhett, but her tone suggests that my life might be too. Or at least my time onLove Shack. “I knew you weren’t here for the right reasons. One minute you’re telling Roland you’re here for him, the next you’re naked under Rhett’s bed. Only a slut would do something like that.”
I reel back as if she’s slapped me.
“How dare you,” I seethe. I’m numb to the vodka burn now, all anger, all ice. “Roland’s the one screwing around with other women while I—”
“While you what?” She raises a penciled brow. “Are you about to tell me why you’re really here?”
“I’m here to find love.” I say it so forcefully that Lainey’s eyes widen in surprise. “I’m here to find love,” I repeat, my voice quivering. “I’m here to marry Roland.”
In a flash, Lainey steps around the counter and leans in so close I can smell her mascara. “If that’s true, then you probably don’t want me telling him about you and Rhett, do you?”
“Why would you—”
“You heard something in Rhett’s room,” she says. “I’m asking you to keep it to yourself. If you don’t, I might let somethingslipto Roland.”
The irony is almost comical. She thinks she can use Roland to keep me quiet, but he’s the furthest thing from my mind.
“I won’t say anything, I swear,” I lie. I glance at my paintball gun. The plastic edges make it look like a pitiful defense.
My breath is coming so fast, heart beating so furiously, that I don’t notice a tear of anxiety puddling in my eye until it falls down my cheek. I dig my nails into my palms, cuticles, anything to keep me going, to keep my gaze on Lainey so she knows she hasn’t won.
She licks her lips like a snake, tongue darting out as it surveys its next meal, before she picks up my left hand and holds it up between us. A drop of blood trickles from the little half-moon indent where my fingernail has picked my skin raw.
Lainey scoffs. She lets my hand fall back to my side. “I don’t know what Roland sees in you. I’d think he would want someone a little more sure of herself.”
“I—” But I can’t finish. Suddenly, I’m back in my apartmentwith Serena, watching Rhett’sLove Shackcontestants parade across my laptop screen.
God, does that woman evenlikeherself? Not nearly enough confidence. He’s already a celebrity; he wants someone who knows who she is.
“Pathetic,” Lainey says.
