Chapter 32 – Alexis's Questions & Intentions
Alexis sat cross-legged on the edge of the pool deck, the cool morning air brushing against her bare arms, but the unease coiling in her stomach made her feel anything but comfortable. The mansion was quiet at this hour—most contestants still in bed, or nursing hangovers from last night's overindulgent celebrations—but her mind was far from peaceful. The previous day's public embarrassment had left her raw, exposed, and strangely exhilarated all at once, and now, in the solitude, she couldn't stop turning over the one question that had burrowed deep into her thoughts:
Was any of this real?
The words felt ridiculous even as she thought them. Real. She was in a reality show, a carefully orchestrated chaos machine designed to pit people against one another, to manufacture drama, to blur the line between genuine emotion and calculated performance. And yet… every time she looked at Dante—every glance, every subtle touch, every protective gesture—her chest tightened in ways that the cameras could never fully capture.
Was she falling for him because she wanted to, or because the game demanded she manipulate emotions for ratings?
She clenched her fists in her lap, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from speaking out loud. She'd been here before—in auditions, in failed relationships, in the tiny, fragile moments where vulnerability met rejection. She knew better than to trust feelings at face value, especially in a setting designed to exploit them.
Her mind drifted to a flashback: the night she and Dante had broken up.
It had been storming, rain pelting the city streets, neon lights reflecting off the wet pavement. They had shouted at each other in her tiny apartment, words sharper than knives, each sentence tearing at the delicate thread of their love. He had accused her of running from intimacy; she had accused him of being too controlling. And in the end, she had walked out, locking the door behind her, determined never to look back.
She remembered the hollow ache, the nights of tossing and turning, of imagining him with someone else. The heartbreak had been acute, a pain that had wrapped itself around her like a vice. And yet, she had convinced herself it was better this way. Safer. A way to protect her heart from being broken again.
And now here he was, standing across the pool, tanned, relaxed, utterly unaware—or so she tried to convince herself—of how much her thoughts had been consumed by him. Dante glanced her way, eyes meeting hers for a fraction of a second, and Alexis felt a jolt of something that wasn't fear, wasn't calculation, wasn't strategy. It was longing.
She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "Focus," she muttered under her breath. "You're not here for him. You're here for the game."
But then he moved closer, adjusting the sunglasses perched on his nose, casual, confident, every step deliberate and somehow magnetic. "Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying over the gentle splash of the pool and the chirping of the morning birds. "You're up early."
Alexis's stomach twisted. Up early? Or avoiding everyone else? The question lingered unspoken, but the weight of it pressed against her chest. She offered a tight-lipped smile, trying to appear lighthearted. "Yeah, well… someone has to enjoy the peace before chaos erupts. You know, pre-show calm before the storm."
Dante's lips twitched with amusement. "Sounds like a very 'Alexis Harper' thing to say."
Alexis's heart skipped. How did he still know her so well? How did he read through the walls she had spent months—no, years—erecting?
"I… look, I just…" she faltered, unsure whether to continue, unsure if she wanted to voice her fears. "Sometimes I wonder if any of this—us—is real. Or if I'm just… doing what I'm supposed to do for the cameras. For the show. You know?"
Dante's expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing, charming exterior dropped. He took a careful step closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Alexis, I don't care about the cameras. Or the show. I care about you. And I've been trying to show that, even when you doubt it."
Her breath caught in her throat. Even now, in the midst of staged chaos, scripted drama, and rival contestants scheming to undermine her, he was steady. Solid. A reminder that some things didn't have to be manipulated, that not every touch or glance needed to be a strategy.
Alexis looked down at her hands, twisting the fabric of her sundress, fighting against the urge to reach out and let herself be comforted, let herself lean into him. Part of her wanted to test him, to push him away, to see if he would hold. Part of her wanted to dive headfirst into the vulnerability that terrified her.
"You make it really hard to do that," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "To separate the game from… this."
He smiled, a little crooked, a little teasing, but his eyes stayed serious. "Maybe you don't have to separate it. Maybe it's okay to feel things—even here, even now. Just… don't let it scare you away."
Her chest tightened further. It was ridiculous. And yet, the warmth spreading through her felt undeniable. She wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream—anything but remain trapped in the half-life of fear and doubt that had consumed her for so long.
Just as she was about to respond, a shout erupted from across the deck. Vanessa, ever vigilant, had spotted the quiet moment between Alexis and Dante and decided it was time to stir drama. "Alexis! Don't hide over there! Come on, we're filming the next group scene!"
Alexis groaned audibly. "Of course. The show never sleeps."
Dante's gaze lingered for a heartbeat longer before he offered a soft, reassuring smile. "I'll be nearby. Don't worry."
As Alexis trudged toward the production crew, her mind raced. Was his presence comforting or complicating everything? Could she trust that the flutter in her chest wasn't just a product of the cameras, the manipulations, the heightened stakes? Or was she falling for him again, irrevocably, despite every instinct screaming caution?
She tried to shove the thought aside, but her competitors were already noticing the tension, already whispering behind her back, already scheming to use her hesitation to their advantage. Social media, she knew, was never far behind, analyzing every gesture, every glance, every fleeting moment as proof of alliances, betrayals, or secret romances.
By the time the group scene began, Alexis was acutely aware of every movement, every camera angle, every breath she took. The exhilaration of being on set—the rush of strategy, sabotage, and drama—mingled with a deep, unnerving awareness of Dante's proximity. He wasn't interfering; he wasn't manipulating. He simply existed nearby, a constant presence that made her pulse quicken in ways she wasn't ready to rationalize.
And through it all, Alexis realized something that both terrified and thrilled her: she didn't just want to play the game. She wanted to win—yes—but she also wanted him. Not as part of a strategy, not as part of a scene, not as a calculated move. She wanted him because she couldn't help herself. Because, despite every warning, every flashback, every lesson learned the hard way, he still had her heart in a vice grip.
Her competitors would try to exploit her hesitation. Vanessa would try to twist it into chaos. Social media would dissect it endlessly. But for the first time in a long while, Alexis decided she didn't care. She was done pretending that her feelings could be compartmentalized, that love had to be postponed until the chaos ended.
As the cameras rolled and the next challenge began, she stole a glance at Dante. His confident, teasing grin met hers, subtle and private amidst the staged drama. And for the first time, Alexis let herself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, in the middle of manipulation, sabotage, and relentless scrutiny, there could still be something real. Something worth holding onto.
Her heart raced. The stakes were higher than ever. But for once, Alexis didn't just feel fear. She felt hope.
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