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vivianna
Griffin and I spend the rest of the days leading up to the final round doing damage control.
We do the performative walks and pretend to be shocked by paparazzi appearing. We don’t have to pretend as much, given that it’s still startling to have paparazzi care about who we are and want to take pictures of us, when we’ve basically been irrelevant up until this competition. Griffin explains to producers that the conversation, while based in truth, ultimately has no bearing because he has no desire to be with Imogen.
Meanwhile, Zander and Imogen do their version of damage control too, Zander explaining in confessionals that he’s open to Imogen having a conversation with someone else because they’re secure in their relationship, and Imogen was obviously tipsy and joking that night, obviously, while Imogen waves her promise ring next to him for emphasis.
The last episode before the final round shows clips of the conversation between Imogen and Griffin, and as I replay the clips, bearing myself for the worst, it becomes increasingly clear that the conversation was one-sided with Imogen being more pushy, and Griffin taking steps back whenever she moved forward. I start to realize that said conversation might’ve actually been a ploy. Hell, Zander was probably in on it. I’d bet a hundred thousand dollars that the two had hoped on luring a confession out of Griffin, because then that would’ve undermined our entire relationship. But they got jackshit, which is why all of us ended up having to do damage control.
Anyone can create a story from pictures, but video evidence from producers is undeniable. All of a sudden, I’m seeing comments and Tweets like: “proud to say i never wavered on my support for grivvian” and “wow, griff and viv are better than me because they handled this so maturely” and “i always knew that imogen girl was fishy... like what are you talking to your ex for 💀 girl he doesn’t want you.”
For once, people’s fickleness might just be our saving grace. Right now, we’re leading them by a narrow percent. I almost laugh out loud. But our battle isn’t over yet.
Today is the day we complete our final challenge. Yesterday, the producers took me on a drive throughout Los Angeles, and I had to sprinkle various hints throughout the city, so that Griffin could find me in my undisclosed location—that’s the challenge. But I’m not meant to tell Griffin anything about it.
The producers also informed me that Zander was selected to do my same task, and Imogen would have to find him. In fact, to ensure neither of us told our partners of our whereabouts, each person selected would have to sleep in a hotel that night. Apparently, Griffin had been told that they’d taken me on a “secret mission”. The next time we see each other will be today, if he finds me.
Early this morning, I got up and got ready, staring at my reflection in the mirror as if reminding myself that this is it. Whichever couple wins the final challenge isn’t guaranteed to get the most votes, but losing the final challenge is something neither Griffin or I can afford doing, if we’re winning this thing. Voters are absolutely factoring this challenge into their final decision, and ultimately, our fate lies in their hands.
And now, I’m in my undisclosed location, at the roof of a business building with an elevator right behind me, waiting for Griffin to find me, and praying he does so before Imogen and Zander find each other.
One of my first hints was in a pizza box. The address would’ve told him the first landmark out of several before my location. First, a pizza place. At the pizza place, a producer in disguise with a hat that had his next hint. The next hint should lead Griffin to a train station. A stop should lead him to a bike. Said bike should lead him down my block. And a chalk marking in front of my building should have him looking up. I don’t know if he’ll make it. The producers explained that while the journey had to have a clear path, it couldn't be too obvious. After all, the challenge is also testing how well we know each other; how well we can communicate without words. I’m betting this entire competition on that.
I’ve sprinkled pieces of us throughout the city— inside jokes, favorite dishes or topics related to each of our jobs. I just hope he gets them.
I spend the next several hours pacing where I am. We’re almost at the finish line. Either way, by the Contestant’s Dinner tomorrow, we’ll know who’s walking away with 100K. It’s all I focus on, because the future is far too daunting to think about now. I have to calm my nerves, remind myself that whatever happens, happens.
If we lose Lovebound to Imogen and Zander, it’s all over. While we’re on good terms, we still haven’t confirmed what’s next for us. I pace until my legs start to ache. Whether Griffin will find me first is up for debate, but I know that he has to find me.
***
Surely enough, three hours later, mid-pace, the elevator dings, sliding open. And out comes a Griffin. I haven’t seen him in a day and he’s still fine as hell in his signature henley shirt that clings just right and jeans.
I see him first, but once he sees me, he’s smiling, rushing across the concrete and pulling me into him. He then pulls back as a Sunrise TV drone flies above head, eyes sparkling. “A rose. You drew a rose in front of the building and then taped one to the elevator.”
My grin erupts despite myself. I remember setting that up. For his final leg of the journey, I had to give him an unmistakable sign—unmistakable signs—so he wouldn’t end up getting lost in this admittedly large building. And a rose came to mind first. “Yeah. Of course. That’s your tattoo. One of them. I knew you’d get it.”
His eyes glint as he sets me down. “You think about my tattoos a lot?”
“I think about you a lot,” the sentence slips out before I can stop it. Since our reconciliation the other day, we haven’t really gotten the chance to ask the relationship question again. I haven’t kissed him in days. I don’t even know if he wants to, if he thinks that we’re just going to be better off as friends. The way I fell apart after we fought— I don’t want to hurt like that again. Sometimes it’s so easy to forget that when you give someone that part of you, they can ruin you. So easily. And that is terrifying.
Griffin’s just staring at me, pupils massive, mouth slightly agape. “You live rent-free in my head. You know that, Vivi?”
I tilt my head back, make eye contact. Allow myself for once, to believe him. I mean, damn, this guy is out of breath, sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, hair made wild from all the running and catching trains and riding bikes he did today. To get to me. I grab onto the collar of his shirt, hold onto it for dear life.
Griffin dips his head with a faint smile, and finally, blissfully kisses me. Like no one’s watching. Even though the flying camera suggests that people are. We’ll only find out if we were first tomorrow, and even then, we still might lose.
But I don’t really care when Griffin’s lips are pressed against mine and his hands are in my hair. In fact, I couldn’t care about much else.
***
When we get back to the Villa, we flop onto our bed, Griffin pouring through the pages of the trashy magazine I was reading the other day while I check polls on our laptops. Every so often, Griffin leans forward and kisses the crook between my neck and shoulder, before going back to his own thing.
“I think we’ll be good for the polls,” I say out loud. “We’re still leading.” I know I’m rambling, but for some reason, I can’t stop. “That is, unless we do poorly tomorrow, which is still a chance, but right now, it looks like the polls are—”
Griffin tosses the magazine away before facing me. “Respectfully, I don’t give a shit about the polls right now, Vivi.”
He closes my laptop despite protests. “Seriously. When I said I cared about you, it was a simpler way of saying that I want your time and your attention and, you know, you.”
“Why’d you add me to the end like an afterthought, Andrews?” I’ve always got a quick reply, but I’m pretty sure my face is burning.
“Just in case you decided to shut me down.” He gives me a dimpled grin.
“Please. Like I could shut you down.”
“Right. I keep forgetting that you’re down bad.”
“Shut up.”
I poke a finger in his dimple, and it deepens.
“No,” he replies.
So, I decide to take matters into my own hands and kiss the smug smile right off his face.
“What’s going to happen after?” I ask once we pull apart.
“I guess I’ll have to get back to work. I used all my vacation days for this.”
“I mean between us.”
Griffin lays back down against the bed. “I want to be with you.”
“Really?” I can already feel my heartbeat accelerating.
“I thought kissing you ten times would have sort of made that obvious. Dumbass.”
“You’re the dumbass. And I don’t know. I didn’t think you wanted that.” I suck on my bottom lip. “I mean, I’ve been a pretty face to some guys, but that was about it, right? Zander isn’t the first guy to get bored of me and move on to someone else. Sure you might like kissing me, but that doesn’t mean you see me in your life. You know, the way I want to be seen.”
Griffin doesn’t say anything until I’m done. “First of all, Zander’s mad stupid. Secondly, so are all the other guys. Thirdly, yeah, you have a pretty face, but you’re also clever and witty and kind of funny—you know, on a good day—and genuine.”
“When did you figure this out?”
“I began figuring that out the day we met. You didn’t let me intimidate you, you just rattled off about how 12A was actually your seat.”
“My ticket said 12A!”
“And you were so pissed that entire ride, but you were trying to pretend you weren’t. So I decided I’d be annoying as hell the whole time. And then we meet again at that first Contestant’s Dinner, and we’ve both got our exes there and it’s like, come on, this has to be a page out of a shitty romcom. So we work together. And you end up being everything I thought you were, but also so much more.”
“Don’t go soft on me now, Griffin,” I say, blinking away any misbehaved tears.
“Oh, you love me.” He’s beginning to smirk.
“You’re a self-absorbed dick.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“I’m not your babe yet.”
“Yet.” He’s literally jubilant. “Can I be your boyfriend then?”
I don’t expect that question, and we both pause.
“Where are the cameras?” I play, looking around.
“You’re so mean.”
“Yes, you can,” I’m laughing and he’s shaking his head. “As long as I can be your girlfriend. Because you’re admittedly, pretty lovely. And fairly attractive, but on an unrelated note.”
“Did you call me lovely?” Griffin asks, leaning in close so that I can feel his breaths on my lips.
“Are you going to make me say it again?”
“Duh. I thought you’d know that,” he whispers. “You know, being my girlfriend and all.”
“Well, you’re lovely,” I say even quieter. “And you make me happy.”
“Cute but I didn’t hear you telling me I was ‘fairly attractive’ again.” His teasing mouth finds my cheek, then my throat. My breathing falters.
“That’s because it’s not happening.”
“Oh?”
And then he’s tackling me down on the bed and our laughter is intermingling and my heart is the fullest it’s been in a long, long time.