The Detective and Her Bachelor

Chapter 42

I trust you not to make me bleed. 

I let out a sigh, forcing my fingers to let go of his shirt. He isn't for me to have. He isn't for me to want. 

After slowly pulling myself from Andrew's arm, watching him stir slightly, brow puckered in irritation, hand reaching for the sudden vanishing warmth of me, I made for the door, refusing to look back. 

I quietly shut the door behind me and stumbled right into Emily Grace, who took one look at me coming out of Andrew's room, wearing the same clothes I had been wearing the day before, and gave a sharp, judgemental tilt to her head, eyes dancing with mischievous glee. 

"WOOOOW," she said in a taunting, sing song voice. "Walk of shame!" 

I moved past her, relaxation melting off of me like ice cream on a hot summer sidewalk as she followed after me, eyes scanning me with critical delight. "You made such a big deal about sleeping with someone you barely knew, and the first chance you got, you pulled him into bed with you!" 

Her voice carried down the hall, and I could hear shuffling behind the contestants' doors, could see shadows under the door cracks, feel their eyes staring at my retreating form through their door peepholes. 

I rolled my eyes, trying to burry my panic. I scanned the halls, searching for cameras, the reality of this strange life crashing back into view. I keep messing up. I keep coming up with things I need to erase and I can't do anything to fix it. 

No lights were on, and the hall was completely empty, helping me relax a little. Apparently the show still couldn't record us yet. That was something. 

Just Emily Grace being her unhinged self. It's fine. Keep walking.

"Got nothing to say?" Emily Grace asked, her voice oozing smugness. 

"Not really," I replied dryly. "You seem pretty happy to fill up the airways all by yourself." 

She scoffed. "Not much of a defense."

I shrugged, schooling my features as the image of me waking up in Andrew's arms filled my mind like a warm, cozy blanket of a memory. A private moment that wouldn't remain private. 

I hate this show. 

I glanced at her. "Give a girl a fighting chance and at least wait til I've had my first cup of coffee, before you hit me with your mind numbing chatter."

I arrived at me door and opened it as Emily Grace continued. "Cute. Just don't expect the news of you sleeping with Ace to stay quiet. Just because the camera's aren't on right now doesn't mean everyone won't know by the end of breakfast." 

I walked inside my room. "I would be shocked if you managed to keep it to yourself for more than five seconds," I replied. "Although I wish you would find a hobby that gave you the illusion of more substance." Then I slammed the door in her face, satisfied when she tried to talk back but was cut off by the door. 

"OH MY GOSH!!!" 

I spun at the sound of Prism's voice. She was sitting on my made bed, eyes wide, hands over her mouth. Michale sat on my window seat, jaw dropped. The lights suddenly flickered to life, illustrating the end of our world of privacy.

Crap. 

Prism now wore a pair of bright pink sweatpants and a black tank top, her long platinum blond hair pulled back in a slick ponytail, long nails back in place.

"DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM FOR INFORMATION!?!" Prism hissed, alarmed.

I shook my head wildly, slapping my hand over her mouth. "NO! And stop talking. The lights are on!!!"