Chapter 3
They keep us frozen like that for too long.
I can feel I’m awkward.
The cringe creeps up my neck. My face is hot.
My hand is still on his shoulder because no one told me to move it.
Suddenlt I realize this is how it starts.
A still image.
A screenshot.
A narrative.
But it sparks anyway. Enrique’s thumb presses once—barely—into my waist. Grounding. Intentional.
The producer claps.
“Perfect,” she says. “America’s going to lose it.”
Janet corners me the second cameras are gone.
She smiles like she’s proud of me. Like I did this on purpose.
“This is gold,” she whispers. “Do you understand what’s happening?”
Isolation tightens my chest.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
She tilts her head.
“No,” she says. “But you need it.”
I try to breathe and air breaks through when she lowers her voice.
“They were ready to drop you after that stumble.”
My stomach drops.
It cuts deep.
“You didn’t tell me,” I say.
She doesn’t deny it.
Rehearsal is brutal.
Enrique doesn’t go easy. He doesn’t show off either.
Embarrassment hits when I fall behind. Again. He catches me before I hit the floor.
My chest pulses when he lets go immediately. Like touching me costs him something.
He leans in close.
Just us. Alone in the rehearsal studio.
“You’re not bad,” he says. “You’re scared.”
I laugh once. Sharp.
“Same thing.”
“They wanted me gone,” he says. “Eliminated early. Too controversial.”
I look at him.
“And now?” I ask.
He meets my eyes.
“Now I’m useful again.”
That night, my phone explodes.
Clips. Tweets. Edits. Slow-motion replays of us standing too close.
Embarrassment burns.
I realize none of this is mine anymore.
A message from Enrique.
You alive?
I type. Delete. Type again.
Barely.
Three dots.
Come to Studio B.
My heart kicks.
Studio B is dark.
No cameras. No producers.
Just mirrors and silence.
He locks the door.
He steps closer.
“This isn’t for the show,” he says. “Say no if you want.”
I don’t answer.
He kisses me.
Not soft.
Not careful.
Controlled. Like he’s been holding back all day.
My hands fist in his shirt.
The lights snap on.
A camera whirs.
A producer laughs.
“Oh my god,” she says. “This is even better than we planned.”
And suddenly I understand.
This wasn’t a private moment.
It was bait.
And I walked right into it.
