SAVANNAH
This morning is a blur. I know I drank too much wine last night. I don't remember much. I have a vague recollection of Rhett helping me up the stairs and then him talking to somebody in the hallway while I picked at the wallpaper on the walls. I'm not sure why I was picking at it. It seemed very interesting at the time. Then I remember him helping me to bed, but not much at all after that. I suppose I just fell asleep.
I truly expected to wake up this morning and feel nauseous, but as I lay here, opening my eyes and looking around the blurry room, I don't feel too bad. I don't typically get a hangover from wine. I don’t drink a lot anyway; I'm always working, but I do like the occasional glass of wine. Last night, apparently, I liked the occasional bottle of wine.
"Good morning." I suddenly realize that Rhett is still attached to my arm, lying in the bed opposite me. He's looking at me with such a softness on his face and a slight smile. I wonder how long he’s been staring at me like this. I kind of like it, but I’m never admitting that out loud. "How are you feeling?"
"I feel pretty groggy," I say, still struggling to get my eyes to stay open. I use my free hand to rub one of them. "But all in all, not too bad."
"When you said you were a lightweight, I didn't truly believe you until I carried you to your bed."
I scrunch my nose. "You had to carry me to my bed?"
"You were a little woozy."
"I'm so sorry. I don't normally drink that much. If I didn't know better, I would've thought somebody spiked my drink with something."
"Yeah, I think that was all you, Sunny."
I laugh. "Well, at least you get away from me today."
"It hasn't been so bad.”
We both slowly sit up, me because my head is still swimming a little bit and him because he's trying to make sure I don't fall off the bed. We're facing each other, and there's something different. I can't put my finger on what it is. The night starts to come back to me. The last few days. The slow dance in the kitchen. Did something happen last night? What if we kissed, and I don't even remember it? That makes me feel sad. What did I say to him? I vaguely remember us talking before I fell asleep, but I can't remember any of it.
“So, I guess we’d better be ready for the main challenge tonight,” he says after a few moments.
"Yeah, I think that's why I drank all the wine."
"You'll do fine. You're getting better and better at each challenge."
"Are you giving me a compliment?" I say teasingly.
"You're very talented, Sunny. You shouldn't downplay that."
"Thank you. And for what it's worth, it hasn't been so bad being chained to you, either. I thought it would be the worst time of my life."
He chuckles. "Well, that makes me feel good."
Before we can continue, one of the producers walks in with a key and holds it up.
"Congratulations, you both made it to seventy-two hours. Oh, turn on your mic packs before we film this."
I look at Rhett with a confused expression. "Our mic packs? Why are they off?"
"I asked producers to turn them off last night."
"Why?"
"Well, you were a little vulnerable in your predicament. I didn't want them showcasing that across national television."
Something in my heart swells up. It's like that part in the Grinch cartoon that I watched growing up at Christmas time when his heart suddenly swells up; that's what this feels like. Rhett protected me when I couldn't protect myself. He made sure the mic was off and that nobody was using my vulnerability against me. Who does that?
"You made them turn the mics off?"
"Yeah," he says, shrugging his shoulders.
I reach across and put my hand on his knee.
"Thank you," I whisper, making eye contact with him.
He nods slightly. "No problem."
We both reach around and turn our microphones back on. The producer unlocks the handcuffs while the cameraman zooms in on our wrists. Within seconds, we're free.
Free of each other. No longer forced to do everything together. No longer sleeping next to each other at night.
Why do I feel so sad? I feel like I just lost something. I feel like I left Sadie all over again at the airport. This is a foreign feeling to me. I've dated several guys in my life, some seriously, but I never felt such a sense of loss knowing that I wouldn't get to spend all my time with anyone. Maybe I'm just lonely in here, missing my sister. Maybe that's all this is. But I don't think so.
Still, I don't know if Rhett is playing pretend or if this is reality. I can't imagine him having the depth of feelings that he seems to. This is Rhett Jennings. Rhett Jennings doesn't have those kinds of feelings.
It's all very confusing, and I suppose being unchained from him will make things easier. It will give me more time to think. Maybe I can talk to Maggie about it. And then I remember that everything I say is on TV. There is no privacy. There is no asking her for “girl advice.” I have to keep this to myself and figure it out alone. If we’re lucky, we have weeks left in this house, and I can't let these crazy thoughts derail me. I have to remember why I’m here: to win that money and change my and my sister’s lives.
* * *
RHETT
Another day, another main challenge. These are becoming old hat for us. I've won one time; Savannah hasn't won at all. I'm starting to worry a little bit about her longevity in the game, but since she still hasn't agreed to a fake relationship with me, she's kind of on her own.
It makes me worry. I don't want her to leave. I want her to stay as long as possible. Of course, I still want to win—I am competitive, after all—but I would like it to be Savannah and me at the end.
As Dan explained, today’s main challenge is a mystery ingredient challenge. We can make whatever we want, but we must choose to use one of the crazy mystery ingredients on the table. They are wasabi paste, cayenne pepper flakes, and candied jalapenos. None of them are exactly helpful when trying to make a sweet treat.
This is the first time that I've been unchained from Savannah in three days. It feels weird. It feels like one of my limbs is missing, even though she's at the station right next to me, working away on whatever it is that she's making.
I miss her. I've never missed anybody in my whole life. Even when my grandmother died, and I was grieving that loss, I didn't miss her like this. This is like a longing, something I've never really felt before. Like I’m missing something I’ve never had but know that I desperately want.
I've dated a lot of women in my life. Being from a wealthy family gets you a lot of attention. You could be the ugliest guy in the world, but if you or your family has money, you will have dates. But I never felt like this, and that's scary because Savannah probably doesn't feel that way about me. She was just overly intoxicated on wine last night. She doesn't remember what she said. You can't take those kinds of feelings to heart.
I'm looking around the room and noticing everybody diligently working on their desserts. I crane my neck a bit, trying to see what Connor's doing, but I really can't tell. I have decided to make some wasabi white chocolate truffles. It’s not the easiest thing to do, but I hope the judges will like them.
"Dang it," I hear Savannah say under her breath.
I'm not sure what's going wrong, but I immediately look over at her. "Hey."
She turns and looks back at me. "Yeah?"
"You can do this. You've got it.”
What has come over me? I don't encourage other competitors. It's like my heart has a mind of its own and it's controlling everything I do. It's unsettling, and I don't like it. My brain needs to be in control. It is the only organ in my body that has ever been in control of everything. If my brain doesn't tell me to do it, I don't do it. But now, it seems like my heart has fought back and overtaken my mental capabilities.
I notice Connor looking in my direction. He has obviously heard me encourage Savannah. He shakes his head and rolls his eyes before returning to work.
The three hours fly by, and now it's time for the judges to walk around and give their verdicts. I think I did a pretty good job on my truffles, but I don't know what anybody else made.
They go to Connor first, who made wasabi white chocolate macarons. The judges seem to like them, but they're not nearly as impressed as I've seen them with Connor in the past. Maybe he got distracted watching me and Savannah.
Lainey made a spicy chocolate cake. That sounds disgusting, and the judges don't care for it. Maybe she'll go home. That would be one of the best pieces of news I’ve received in a while.
Zara made spicy jalapeno chocolate truffles. Chef Alain said they were innovative, but Marco said they were disgusting, so I don't know what to make of that.
Hank made wasabi vanilla cupcakes with orange buttercream. The judges were not amused.
Sophia created a beautiful cake with some kind of candied jalapeno icing, and Marco gagged. Tessa’s face turned a shade of red I’d never seen before.
Finally, they come over to my wasabi white chocolate truffles. They compliment them and say they have an interesting taste but that they wouldn't necessarily order them to eat at a restaurant. Yeah, I'm not winning this competition.
They also go to Leo, who has made a candied jalapeno peppermint cake. What in the world? Why would anybody make such a thing? Needless to say, Leo is the one they target. He's obviously going home.
Then they finally come to Savannah, who has made a jalapeno pineapple upside-down cake. It was such an interesting thing to make, and I’m kind of proud of her for coming up with something so unique. The judges rave about it, telling her it’s the best out of everyone’s and proclaiming her the winner.
I'm more excited about her win than I was about mine. In fact, I find myself shouting out and clapping to the point where everybody turns around and looks at me. Leo is proclaimed the loser and will be going home. That’s fine; I don't really know him all that well. As long as Savannah is staying, I'm okay.
Suddenly, I feel like she is my security blanket, which seems very dangerous. I’ve never needed a security blanket. Until now.
* * *
SAVANNAH
I won! I won! I can’t believe I won!
I scream like I’ve won the lottery and then run out from behind my station to join the others. On my way, several people high-five me. I don’t know if anyone has ever high-fived me before.
Then I see him. Rhett.
He’s standing there next to my station, smiling. He looks like a proud father who’s just taught his daughter to ride a bike. He looks so happy, and it throws me off a bit. He seems happier for me than he was for himself when he won.
“Congratulations,” he says, squeezing my shoulder. Electrical zaps ping around my body like the whole thing is shorting out.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“Can I buy you a sandwich?” he asks with a wink. We don’t buy anything here, but I think it’s his way of offering to make me a sandwich. It’s kind of cute.
“Sure,” I say, following the group back into the main house.
I sit at the breakfast bar with Maggie while the others disperse to different areas. Rhett goes to the refrigerator and sticks his head inside.
“Okay, ladies, I’ve got ham, turkey, and Swiss cheese…”
“I’ll take turkey,” Maggie says.
“Same,” I say, enjoying the view of Rhett’s backside a little more than I care to admit.
“Turkey it is!”
He pulls out the turkey, cheese, lettuce, mayo, and mustard and retrieves a loaf of bread from the pantry. I enjoy watching him do the mundane tasks of making a sandwich. It feels nice. Familiar.
I keep reminding myself that this isn’t reality. It might be called a “reality show,” but there’s nothing real about being followed by cameras and microphones all day and knowing millions of people are watching your every move.
And there’s nothing real about Rhett’s caring for me. Even though I never agreed to be in a fake relationship with him, Rhett would do what he needed to win. This is obviously a part of that.
Now that we’re not chained together anymore, he has to go out of his way to look like he’s spending time with me. It’s helping his game, I’m sure. Maybe it’s even helping my game.
And I’m okay with it. He’s being a nicer version of himself, and I just won my first main challenge. Life is good right now.
“Congrats on your win, Savannah.”
Life was good.
For some inexplicable reason, Connor is standing behind me. He just congratulated me, and it sounded authentic. Nothing Connor says or does is authentic.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes. Rhett’s jaw clenches as he pauses his work.
“And what else, Connor?” he says.
“What do you mean?”
“I know there’s some snide remark waiting to fall from your thin lips.” I want to laugh. Rhett is right. Connor has thin lips.
Connor sighs. “Look, man, don’t try to start trouble with me. I was simply congratulating Savannah on a well-deserved win. That cake was super creative.”
“Thanks, Connor.” I say it just to get him to go away, and it works.
“What was that all about?” Maggie asks under her breath.
Rhett continues working on the sandwiches. “He’s a snake. I wouldn’t trust a thing he says.”
“Oh, believe me, I don’t. I know better than anybody that he’s not to be trusted.”
Rhett slides the sandwiches over to Maggie and me. He also pours each of us a glass of sweet tea and throws a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips between us before sitting down at the bar across from us with his own sandwich.
I take a bite. “Oh, this is so good, Rhett.”
He laughs. “It’s just a sandwich, Sunny. It would taste the same no matter who made it.”
“He’s so modest,” I say to Maggie. She gives me a knowing smile.
“So, how do you feel about your big win?” he asks me.
“Great! I totally didn’t expect to win, though.”
“You should believe in yourself, Sunny. You have what it takes to go to the end.” He bites into his sandwich, which gives me a chance to glance at Maggie. She’s eating like the cat that swallowed the canary, looking at me with so many unspoken words in her eyes. She knows something is happening but has no idea it’s a big game of pretend.
“Thanks,” I say, biting into my sandwich again.
After we finish our sandwiches, it’s time for bed. It feels weird not to have Rhett coming to my room with a chain hanging between us. I never thought I’d miss a chain.
Now, I have to sleep next to Lainey again. Lovely.
The three of us walk upstairs, passing Connor and Lainey making out near the front door—ick—and head to the hallway of bedrooms. Maggie quickly escapes to the bathroom, leaving Rhett and me alone.
“Well, I guess this is goodnight,” Rhett says. Do I hear nerves in his voice?
“I guess so.”
“Congrats again, Sunny. You did great.”
“You did great, too.”
“But it wasn’t enough to beat you,” he laughs.
“We’re even now.” I let out a yawn I couldn’t stifle.
“Go get some sleep. We have a lot more challenges coming up.”
“Goodnight, Rhett.”
“Goodnight, Savannah.”
I walk into my room feeling like I just went on a very modest date, but I didn’t. As much as my heart is fluttering right now, I convince myself I just need to see a cardiologist. It has nothing—and I mean nothing—to do with having feelings for Rhett Jennings.
This is dangerous territory. I want to win on my own merits. I don’t want to win because I made at-home viewers think we’re dating. I have to keep my distance from him as much as possible. It may hurt, but how can it hurt when it doesn’t exist anyway?