Page 49 of Forever is the Sweetest Con
It’s now down to me and Trina, and just one guy, Kei. It hadn’t occurred to me that Trina could swoop in and steal Kei, but thankfully, Natasha calls my name next. My speech is well-rehearsed.
“I’m choosing this guy to be my bunkmate because I’ve spent some time with him over the past few days, and though he’s not my usual type, I want to do things differently here. He’s kind and caring, and I think he’s someone I could really learn to trust.” I couldn’t have said it better if I was reading a script, but it comes out surprisingly naturally.
Kei beams at me, and I beam right back. “So, the guy I want to bunk with is…” Drawing out the moment too long feels silly, since there’s only one guy left, but I count to ten slowly in my head, and then I say, “Kei.”
He lopes toward me, pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me. I breathe him in.
“Thanks,” he whispers in my ear, and then takes his place behind me.
“Trina, you are now single, which would normally leave you vulnerable, but we’ve got another surprise for you.”
Trina glances from Tyler to Gabby and back to Natasha, who is grinning, like she has something major up her sleeve. “Trina, do you remember, amongst all the paperwork you did for the show, you filled out a questionnaire about your perfect-on-paper person?”
Trina nods. “I remember.”
Natasha turns to the camera. “Before filming began, each of thecampers filled out a questionnaire in which they described, in detail, their ideal mate, everything from hair colour to profession to goals for the future.”
I vaguely remember doing this, but I have no idea what I said. The concept of the perfect man has long been dead to me.
Natasha turns back to Trina. “How would you feel if I told you, Trina, your perfect-on-paper person…ishere.”
“What?” gasps Trina. Teddy swoops in for the close-up of Trina’s face, her delicate features twisted in confusion.
“That’s right,” Natasha says to the camera. “We scoured the country looking for a guy that fit Trina’s description of her ideal mate, and would you believe it? We found him. Please welcome our newest camper, a twenty-eight-year-old visual artist from Detroit, Michigan, welcome…Sid!”
A tall, lanky guy with bleach-blond hair and a torso full of tattoos jogs up the beach path.Sonot what I would picture for Trina, but she looks thrilled. When he leans down to kiss her cheek, the red rises up her neck in blotches.
“Another happy couple!” Natasha says in a singsong voice, clasping her hands together. “All of these happy couples, so content, isn’t it lovely?” She sighs theatrically, and the hairs on my arms stand up on end. This fawning feels exaggerated, even for Natasha.
“Here at Camp Couple-Up, we want to ensure that all of our campers form the absolute strongest possible connections.” Natasha is talking to the camera again. “And sometimes, the only way to do that is with a test.”
“Girl, what?” Damian mutters.
“While our couples are happy right now, it may be short-lived, because we’ve created the ultimate test.”
No! I don’t want a test! I glance back at Kei. His face is knitted with worry, but he squeezes my waist, as if to tell meWe’ll be okay.
“Are you ready for this, campers?” Natasha asks, a gleeful grin distorting her pretty face. No one says anything. “We have found theperfect-on-paper person for every single one of our campers, and we have brought them allhere.”
Several shocked gasps ring out; one of them might be me. This is bad. This is very bad. Kei and I are just about to implement our strategy, and we have no contingency plan.
“We call them POPPs, not just because we love an acronym, but also because these folks are a little pop of excitement, a pop of intrigue, and they’re also just popping in for twenty-four hours, after which time each of our campers will have the option of choosing their POPP or sticking with their current bunkmate.”
Teddy walks slowly in front of us, pushing the camera into our faces to catch our open mouths, our worried eyes, our blank expressions.
“Shall we welcome our next POPP? She’s here for you, Kei.”
Silence.
“Come on, campers, let’s be polite.” Natasha waves her hand to encourage a round of feeble applause. “Hailing from São Paolo, Brazil, this POPP is a twenty-four-year-old lingerie model.”
I feel Kei stiffen behind me.
“Let’s give a warm Camp Couple-Up welcome to…”
Kei drops his arm from around my waist and takes a step back. I turn to look at him. His face has blanched, and his mouth is slack with shock.
“Alessandra,” he whispers.
