Page 23 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
I refrain from throwing a smug look in Sue-Ellen’s direction, and instead I focus on Isa’s gorgeous brown eyes. He leans in to give me an air kiss on both cheeks before wrapping his arm tightly around my waist. Up close, I notice his scent. It’s something sharp and pungent, notexactly bad but not appealing, either. It’s fine, I’ll just breathe through my mouth when he’s near me.
The only campers left are Kei and Trina, but he very charmingly acts like she’s his first and only choice for a bunkmate. Trina flushes so deeply that her skin almost matches her hair as he rests his hand on her hip. I look only at her to avoid catching his eye.
We pose for the cameras in our couples, and then we line up behind Natasha. She addresses the camera directly, reading from the oversized cue cards held by Tyler.
“There you have it, America—the first official couples of Camp Couple-Up Season One!” We clap and hold aloft our champagne glasses, which have been empty for some time now.
“Over the next four weeks, we’ll put our campers to the test with challenges, plot twists, and maybe even some surprise guests, while they work to strengthen their connections and find love. And we’re hoping you’ll fall in love, too, with our campers! We’ll be looking to you, our viewers, to vote for your favourites each week, or choose who you think might not be here for love. In the end, you’ll vote for the couple you think has the strongest connection, and, if that weren’t prize enough, who will leave with our record-breaking prize of $250,000!”
Some of the campers whoop and cheer at this, but I’m careful to just applaud demurely, as if the money weren’t my entireraison d’être.
Gabby leads us to the Chore Board, a big dry-erase board with the day’s roster, nailed to the side of the Mess Hall cabin. Isa is holding my hand, which feels weird, but I’ll go with it. There’s always that couple that goes hot and heavy right from the start, so I guess that’s us.
Whatever it takes.
Gabby is talking about the chores like they’re some amazing bonding opportunity, like emptying the compost and scrubbing the toilets together will strengthen our connections. Isa and I are rostered to clean the Bunkhouse, which sounds awful, frankly, but I put on a happy face, like it’s my dream to clear cobwebs and unclog shower drains with this stupidly hot man.
We head to the Bunkhouse, armed with a bucket of cleaning supplies, when Tyler intercepts us.
“You guys make a cute couple,” he says, practically leering. “Listen, we need you to talk about how happy you are to be bunkmates, what you’re looking for in a relationship, stuff like that. Get your chores done, but remember that the cameras are on, and we need content to build your storyline as a couple, okay?” He pats my arm and sends us on our way.
“So,” I say, as we head toward the Bunkhouse, “I’m happy you picked me.” I notice we’re passing a camera, so I lean my body into his. Our chemistry has to be magnetic. “I’m curious, why did you choose me?”
Isa shrugs. “I like blondes. Very sexy.”
“Hmmm,” I say. America is not going to fall in love with us as a couple if our relationship is solely based on the current colour of my hair. “As soon as I saw you, I felt this, like, crazy connection to you,” I say, hoping this will prompt him to agree.
“Yes, you are very beautiful. You and the other blonde, what is her name?”
“Sue-Ellen,” I say, holding back an eye roll. “Yep, she’s amazing.” I can’t seem threatened by another girl, so I inject my voice with warmth, but that’s enough about her. “Anyway, shall we start with the bathrooms?”
Such beautiful words to kickstart our romance.
The bathrooms are grim. “Ugh,” Isa says, making a face. “When is the last time this place was cleaned?”
The toilet bowls are ringed with an orange scum, and dead flies lie suspended in the thick, cloudy water. The shower taps have rusty trails leading down to drains clogged with hair and gunk. The mirrors are coated in a thick layer of dust and grime, and the floors are sticky underfoot.
“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” I say, as I snap the yellow rubber gloves onto my hands. I’ve got my work cut out for me, too, getting him to fall in love with me while wearing rubber gloves. “Do you want to start with the showers?” I ask, handing him a spray bottle and a scrub brush. He looks at them, and then at me.
“So, you just…” He moves his hand up and down to mime scrubbing.
“You got it,” I say, in a falsely chipper voice, trying to ignore the possibility that Isa may be a Man Child, one of the worst types of men.
He takes the cleaning products with a grimace, holding them as if they might come alive and bite him. I clench my jaw and smile, smile, smile.
I get to work on the toilets. It’s gross, but it’s no worse than the bar on any given Sunday morning. Isa is half-heartedly scrubbing the grout in the shower. I attempt small talk, but I quickly tire of his one-word answers.
Once the bathrooms are slightly less offensive, we move on to the bunk area, which mostly just needs sweeping and dusting.
“Let’s do this,” I say, grabbing the broom. “I can sweep. Do you want to dust?” I mime dusting, and he frowns, but he takes the duster from me.
Now that we’re away from the atrocity of the bathrooms—and firmly back within view of the cameras—Isa comes alive. He takes every opportunity to come near me, letting his fingers graze my arm, or his hand linger on my shoulder. He holds the dustpan, looking up at me like some Prince Charming. I bet it looks great on camera.
And that’s what matters. Never mind the Man Child thing. I don’t actually have tolikehim—that part is easy to pretend. But it has to look good. If I can keep him focused on me—and not the other blonde—then I think we’ve got a chance.
Chapter Nine
Of all the campers, I’d never have suspected that quiet, soft-spoken Trina would be the one who loves being in the mosh pit at punk shows, but we truly do contain multitudes.
