III

  The next morning, the dining hall reeks of silent judgment. As Rebecca steps inside, a hush falls over the room like a drawn curtain. Whispers trail behind her—the aftermath of last night’s interrupted interview and the rumors about her encounter with Reese. Curious glances—some mischievous, others edged with hostility—follow her every move.

  She heads toward a relatively empty table, pretending to see and hear nothing—it all seems hopeless. Lena slides into the seat across from her. “Heard things,” she whispers in a low, conspiratorial tone, her eyes darting around as if hunting for eavesdroppers. “About you and Reese. I don’t know what to believe.”

  Rebecca tenses, her hand instinctively moving to her earlobe. Before she can respond, the dining hall doors swing open and Reese strides in.

  The whispers multiply, building on each other until they’re impossible to ignore, and every eye shifts from Rebecca to him. He carries himself with casual confidence, scanning the crowd until his gaze locks onto hers. Unfazed by the rising murmurs, he approaches their table, while Lena remains fixed on Rebecca—her face flushed and her body tense with a mix of shame and curiosity.

  “Morning, ladies,” Reese greets, placing a hand on Rebecca’s back. “Did you sleep well?”

  Rebecca’s jaw tightens. “No,” she hisses softly, her voice low. Suddenly, she becomes all too aware of the dryness in her mouth. “I’m sick of being here—of being watched.” She gestures vaguely at the other contestants, though her gaze fixes on Lena, silently pleading for her to catch the hint. Then she turns to Reese. “And you, waltzing in here like… like…” She hesitates, searching for the right analogy, before finally settling on, “like a peacock at a pigeon convention isn’t helping.”

  Reese chuckles. Leaning against the table, he seems oblivious to the stares. “A peacock? Really?” he teases, raising an eyebrow as a playful glint flashes in his eyes. “I thought I was more of a phoenix, rising from the ashes of public humiliation.” He winks, and Lena fans herself with her hand.

  Her eyes dart from Rebecca to Reese. She opens her mouth to speak, then closes it, and picks at her synthetic protein bar, lost in thought.

  “Can you… eat breakfast with someone else today, Reese?” Rebecca pleads, her lips curving into a tentative smile—trying carefully not to sound rude. “Please.”

  “But where’s the fun in that?” Reese retorts, brushing a stray hair from his forehead with an indifference that grates on her nerves. Leaning in closer, he lowers his voice. "Besides, haven’t you noticed? They’re eating it up—our little… love story." His eyes sparkle with amusement.

  Rebecca sighs, feeling the conversation drain away. He’s right—gossip fuels the machine. It’s a game, and despite his infuriating arrogance, Reese knows exactly how to play. The only problem is, does she?”

  “Fine,” she mutters, eyes fixed on her bland food. “But don’t be surprised if, from now on, I make a quick exit whenever you show up.”

  Reese grins, a flash of genuine relief breaking through his playful facade as he sits next to her. “Deal,” he replies, reaching for a protein bar of his own. He glances at Lena, who quickly averts his gaze, cheeks flushed. Lena hesitates for a moment, then picks up her tray, weighing whether to stay or move. “You’re welcome to join us, Lena—unless you’re too caught up in the ‘peacock’ show.”

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  Lena hesitates, her eyes snapping back to Rebecca as if seeking permission.

  “Please stay," Rebecca urges, her voice soft but firm. Lena’s lips part slightly, trembling with surprise before she settles back into her chair.

  Reese leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. He takes a deliberate bite of his protein bar, his eyes never leaving Rebecca. “So,” he drawls playfully, “what exciting plans do you have for today—aside from, you know, trying to escape my charming company?”

  Rebecca grits her teeth, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “My plans? I was thinking of hitting the mall to buy new shoes. Want to come?” she asks, forcing a tight smile.

  Unexpectedly, Reese reaches across the table, his fingers brushing hers as he picks up her cup of juice. “Oh, come now," he purrs, lowering his voice to a soft rumble. "Where’s your sense of rapport? A little conversation doesn’t hurt anyone, now does it? Small talk is a skill. Don’t you agree?" he teases, directing the question at Lena, who flinches under his gaze.

  “I… I don’t know,” Lena stammers, doing everything she can to avoid looking at Reese.

  Reese’s smile widens as he takes a slow sip from Rebecca’s cup, locking eyes with her. Her hand tightens around her fork, the metal prongs biting into her palm. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that this is all part of the performance—a strategy for survival.

  Throughout the meal, Reese pushes the boundaries of their friendship with subtle provocations—slight touches, double-meaning remarks—while watching her intently, gauging her reactions, testing just how far he can go, like a predator sizing up his prey. Lena remains silent, half captivated, half visibly uneasy by the spectacle of their staged love story.

  Before he finishes his meal, Reese announces, “I’ll go train,” then leans in and plants a kiss on Rebecca’s forehead. The brush of his lips sends a jolt of heat through her, leaving her momentarily speechless. A blush creeps up her neck, tinting her cheeks red. He winks mischievously and saunters out, but before he reaches the exit, he stops, hesitant, like he’s not sure whether he should stay or just go.

  “You sure you wanna whisper? Might as well say it to my face.”

  Everyone in the dining hall turns to look at him, but his attention sets undividedly on the table next to him, where Contestants 1, 22 and 24 sit together.

  Contestant 1 raises his hands, palms exposed. “I’m just saying, it’s a smart move. People love a good romance story, that’s all.”

  “Reese,” Contestant 22 intervenes. “It was just a comment. Nothing serious. No one here is in a position to judge you.”

  Reese doesn’t show any signs of having heard her.

  “That’s not what you said,” he insists.

  No answer.

  Reese rolls his shoulders, loosens his jaw. “Come on, then. Unless you’re all talk.”

  Contestant 1 shakes his head. “Why create unnecessary drama?” he sighs. “I’m sorry, I apologize in the name of the three of us.”

  “Don’t include me in that apology.” Contestant 24 retorts. “I personally don’t like the way you treat people, and that doesn’t make me a villain.” He glances quickly at the camera above his head as he says the last part.

  “You know what? It’s fine.” Reese says, surprisingly. “I don’t like the way you gossip about me like a freaking catholic church girl. Next time, at least have the balls to say it where I can hear you.”

  Leaving behind another trail of whispered gossip, he leaves.

  Rebecca remains frozen, while Lena’s intense, probing gaze follows her.

  “He… he was defending you,” Lena whispers hesitantly.

  Rebecca forces a brittle laugh. “Defending me? Please. He’s just defending his own ego, Lena—just like everyone else.” The fake smile hurts her cheeks as she picks at her food, suddenly devoid of appetite. She feels like a Barbie doll in a microwave, spinning and melting—one minute in control, the next a puppet manipulated by Reese’s charm and the public’s whims.