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Part Seven
“This is NOT a bed!” I screeched, releasing all of my bottled up anger.
I felt all of the cameras on me, although I tried hard to ignore them.
We were all shown to our little corner in the farm. I had been led to the second floor, along with seven other girls. Our little corner consisted of a plain bed that wasn’t even made, a wardrobe beside it and a small bed stand that held a lamp. My two large suitcases had been dumped onto the bed. It looked like a prison cell.
“What is this? Were they half-off at Ikea or something? Is this a joke? Because I can get my people to come down here right now and set you straight. I can get my father’s lawyers to deal with this, and trust me, you don’t want to mess with them.” My hands slashed the air as I screamed stuff that didn’t even make sense to me. I could feel every eye on me as I seethed, back turned. We had been given an hour to ‘make ourselves at home.’
The fact that no one tried to calm me down or take me away, or even interview me, somewhat irked me. Was this not TV?
Running out of things to say, I simply huffed once more and left the room, stepping into the hallway. The hallway was thin and was just a pathway to the stairs to the bottom floor, where the other half of the girls slept.
I slammed the door behind me, making a dramatic exit.
Grumbling, I walked right into someone who was standing in front of the door.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going, you fu-” I hissed as I glanced up to see what kind of moron would just stand in front of a door.
He flashed a Toothpaste-commercial smirk.
“Miss Valentino! What a pleasure to finally meet you. Can I help you in any way?” Oliver exclaimed, clearly hinting that we should act as if we’ve never met.
“Why. Are. You. Here.” I whispered, gripping his collar and pulling him down so that we were crouching down, making our own huddle.
“What do you mean?” he asked, his eyes wide, playing innocent.
“Cut the crap. I know you, you know me. Now why are you here?” I growled.
The angelic look left his face and he smirked at me.
“Look. I was a part of this project long before I met you. When I met you, and you turned out to be ‘Brat material’, the concept of the show may have... slipped out to your Dad. And here I am, you, putty in my hands.” he shot me an evil smile. I squinted, teeth bared.
“You what?” I squealed, pushing him away from me.
“I said-” he repeated, a menacing smile on his face.
“Just-are you saying that you’re the reason that I’m here?” I growled, starting to stutter from anger. The fact that he remained calm annoyed me.
“Yes.” he replied, bored.
“So you’ll get me out of here, right? Because you got me into this. So you will get me out of it.” I whisper-yelled, stomping my foot. He looked at me skeptically.
“No.” he replied simply, a fake, blank look plastered on his face.
“Exactly so-” what he said sunk in and I froze. “No?” I repeated slowly.
“Nope.” he said, popping the ‘p’.
No. Looking back, I realized that I never really heard that word directed at me. I had uttered the syllable many times but not once had someone rejected my command. I could ask any one of my maids to do something or whatever, and my wish would be granted. Just like that. Even the wildest requests would be somehow brought to life.
“No.”
Frozen, and in a confused state, all I could do was blink at him. It was like my mind went empty, and my mouth became dry. Not knowing what to say, I simply stood there, in a mute daze.
“Uh, I...” I mumbled, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean- I just...” Flustered, I excused myself and began to run away, down the stairs. But before I could even move a step, Oliver had grabbed my wrist, preventing me from leaving, He yanked me back.
“Look,” he started, giving me a serious look. “I want this to be fair. You’re in this game as much as the other idiots here. I’m not going to be harder on you, or easier. And we will act like strangers in front of others. Do. You. Understand.” he spoke quietly, and his eyes kept darting around us, checking for other people who could be listening to our conversation.
I nodded. “Why would I want anyone to know that we are acquaintances?” I scoffed, pulling my hand away. His had a tight grip on my hand that left red marks.
He smirked. “So we’re acquaintances now?”
“What? No... I don’t ever want to be seen with you!” I protested, crossing my arms and giving him an angry look.
“That’s not what I heard.” he laughed, and I felt my face heat up.
“Ugh, I don’t see why everyone thinks you’re all that.” I rolled my eyes and looked him over in frustration.
“What can I say? The ladies love the pecks.” he boasted, flexing his muscles through his tight henley shirt. He shot me a smug, almost beckoning smile.
“Oh, haha, you’re funny.” I bashed sarcastically. He lowered his arms and gazed at me strangely.
He opened his mouth to say something when a loud voice startled us from behind.
“And how are we over here?” a sickly-sweet voice questioned, nosy, suddenly behind us. When I turned around the interviewer who I had talked to before stood in her tacky uniform, smiling wide. She wore her usual lilac pantsuit, her blond hair in a ridiculously perfect bob. Her lips were also smeared with her ‘favourite’ bright red lipstick. Behind her were two cameramen, clearly taping.
“Yes, Mrs. Fitzgerald, of course. Cece and I were just discussing arrangements for tonight’s meal. Weren't we?” he explained, saving me, as I was at a loss for words. I nodded weakly. He thumped my back, scaring me into talking.
“Yes, exactly. That’s all, thank you.” I murmured, looking down. My hair doubled as curtains and hid my blushing face as I excused myself. I ran back into the dorm. Slamming the door shut again, I bursted into the room. With every eye on me again, I let my back slide down the door with a groan.
If dinner is pizza, then this day will officially be the worst ever.
Side is a song that's too catchy for it's own good. Also, for y'all directioners out there, keep an eye out for a future fanfic. Yaaayy.
