Chapter 2: Reality Show, Real Temptations

The next day, I looked at the itinerary Jackie handed me. Reality show. Group assignments. Evan Carter. Talk about a stacked difficulty. My silence was deafening.

The paper trembled in my hands. I scanned the list twice, hoping I’d misread it.

I looked up at Jackie, sniffling. “Was this on purpose or an accident?”

She scratched her nose. “It was an accident... on purpose.”

She shrugged, as if it was out of her hands. I resisted the urge to throw a pillow at her. She knew exactly what she was doing.

No point arguing. Before I knew it, I was packed off, luggage and all, to the reality show—“Sounds of the Heart.”

I stared at my suitcase, wondering if I’d packed enough snacks to survive a week of awkwardness. The title alone sounded like trouble—too wholesome for my current scandal status.

From the title, you’d think it was a dating show. It wasn’t—just a wholesome variety gig, hilariously off-brand for my scandal.

The director said it was an interactive group show, all about experiencing the sounds of daily life. Before going in, I pulled out my phone to call Evan. He picked up after just two rings. “What’s up, wifey?” His voice was teasing, light, and I felt my nerves settle a little.

I jumped, quickly covering the mic and glancing around. No one was nearby, so I relaxed.

I whispered, “Be careful, don’t let anyone hear—we’re still not public.”

He muttered, “We’re both actors, why can’t we go public?” His tone was half-joking, half-serious.

“What?” I blinked, caught off guard. Was he really pushing for this now, of all times?

“Nothing. I get it. I’ll be careful.” He sounded resigned, and I felt a pang of guilt. I wanted to reach through the phone and hug him.

“Yeah, seriously, don’t let it slip.” I tried to sound stern, but my resolve was already crumbling. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I was scared.

“So what should I call you? I can’t just ignore you on the show.” He was teasing again, trying to lighten the mood. I smiled despite myself.

“Whatever, just don’t call me wifey.” I let out a nervous laugh, picturing the chaos if he slipped up on camera. The internet would have a field day.

After hanging up, I realized I’d meant to ask why he, who never did reality shows, suddenly signed up for one. Dragging my heavy suitcase along a cobblestone path, I wondered whose bright idea it was to put stones at the entrance—sure, it’s got ambiance, but my suitcase is suffering.

The wheels rattled and bounced, threatening to break off at any second. Sweat trickled down my back as I cursed whoever designed this set. My limited-edition suitcase deserved better.

I stopped and looked at my suitcase, heart aching—it’s a limited edition. I put away the handle, ready to carry it, when a voice piped up beside me.

I sighed, bracing myself for another battle with gravity. Then, out of nowhere, a shadow fell across my suitcase.

“Ms. Lane, let me help you.”

I looked up. It was Mason Lee, the hot new rising star. Tall, lean, with soft hair and a boyish charm. I had to admit, the fans had good taste—he really was adorable.

He flashed a shy grin, the kind that made teenage girls swoon. I couldn’t help but smile back, even as I braced for the awkwardness to come.

Before I could stop him, he grabbed my suitcase and tried to lift it. Three seconds later, it didn’t budge—like it was rooted to the ground. I coughed awkwardly. He had no idea how heavy girls’ suitcases could be.

He tugged again, face reddening. I tried not to laugh. Bless his heart—he really thought it would be light. I patted his arm in silent apology.

“It’s fine, I’ll handle it. It’s not far.”

I flashed him a reassuring smile, hoping to save him from further embarrassment. He looked relieved, if a little sheepish.

Before he could react, I took it back and lifted it with one hand. He stared in shock as I waved him forward. “Let’s go.”

His jaw dropped. I shrugged, playing it cool, and started walking. Sometimes, being underestimated was its own kind of superpower.

I walked ahead, but after a few steps, the suitcase suddenly felt lighter—someone else had taken it. I turned. It was Evan.

He’d appeared out of nowhere, like a silent guardian. His fingers curled around the handle, and he gave me a small, knowing smile. My heart did a little somersault.

He was dressed simply today: black jacket, sleeves rolled up to reveal his slender wrists and long fingers. A black cap pulled low over his face.

He looked like he’d stepped out of a Calvin Klein ad—effortlessly cool, every detail just right. I felt a surge of pride and affection, even as I tried to play it cool.

Seeing it was him, I didn’t bother with formalities. We walked side by side, chatting idly.

Our steps fell into an easy rhythm. It felt like coming home, even with the cameras lurking nearby.

“Why are you so late?”

I nudged him, pretending to scold. He just rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

“I packed late.”

His voice was calm, but I could tell he’d been up all night fussing over what to bring. He was a perfectionist, through and through.

I couldn’t help complaining, “It’s so hot. The sun’s brutal.” I fanned myself with my hand, squinting against the glare.

He reached up to take off his hat, trying to put it on me. I dodged in a panic. “What are you doing? Don’t—there are so many people watching.”

I ducked away, cheeks flaming. The last thing I needed was more fuel for the rumor mill. Still, I couldn’t help feeling touched.

Mason caught up, glancing at Evan’s hat and smiling. “People say Evan’s unapproachable, but I think that’s not true—he’s actually really nice.”

Mason’s tone was light, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. I sensed the start of a rivalry brewing, and it made me oddly giddy.

Evan was about to speak, but I discreetly nudged him to stay quiet, quickly explaining, “It’s just manners—he’d do the same for any girl.” I shot Evan a warning glance, silently begging him not to blow our cover.

Evan ignored me, quietly put his hat back on, and moved to my other side, subtly blocking the sun. He pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and as he put it away, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I felt the faintest vibration and glanced down. A new message from Evan lit up my screen, and I bit back a smile.

[You’re wrong. I wouldn’t do that for any other girl.]

My cheeks warmed as I read his words. I glanced at him, but he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, the picture of innocence. He was a master at hiding in plain sight.

I glanced at him. He walked calmly, not looking at me, as if he hadn’t just sent that message.

I tried to act normal, but my heart was doing cartwheels. Evan always knew how to say just enough to make me melt.

Inside the house, the place was already packed. There were six people in total: three men, three women. Me, Evan, Mason Lee, top singer Riley Brooks, acclaimed actor Max Chen, and energetic girl Tessa Monroe.

The room buzzed with nervous energy. Everyone was sizing each other up, trying to figure out the pecking order. I scanned the faces, mentally tallying up the competition.

Thinking about their appearance fees, I was shocked—how much must this have cost?

I did some quick math in my head and almost choked. The network must’ve sold their souls to get this lineup. I made a mental note to ask Jackie for a raise.

As soon as we sat down, a row of cameras swung toward us, aimed right at our faces. The director smiled, “To keep things real, this show will have a live broadcast. Everyone okay with that?”

I froze, feeling the heat of the lights on my skin. Live broadcast meant no do-overs, no edits. My pulse quickened. I shot a glance at Evan, who just nodded calmly.

With cameras pointed at us, who was going to say no? Was that the plan all along?

I forced a smile, trying to look unfazed. The director’s grin was way too pleased. I could already tell he was planning to milk every awkward moment for ratings.

I glanced around—everyone’s poker face was strong. I could practically hear molars grinding, but you couldn’t tell who was faking it. Everyone smiled and waved, saying they didn’t mind being filmed. I nodded along.

I pasted on my best TV smile, the one I’d practiced in the mirror for years. Behind the scenes, I could feel the tension crackling. No one wanted to be the first to crack.

As soon as the words were out, the live stream started. The director beamed and had us greet the camera. I shot him a look—so this is why you spent so much money, huh?

I waved at the camera, trying not to look like I was dying inside. The director gave me a thumbs-up, clearly thrilled with the chaos he’d unleashed.

The chat was already blowing up:

[What am I seeing? Is this really live?]

[Director’s got something up his sleeve!]

[I see my boy! What a face!]

[I’m here for Savannah Lane—I want to know what her deal is.]

[Same, who wouldn’t be curious?]

[Great, love this energy.]

I glanced at the chat, heart pounding. The fans were hungry for drama, and I was the main course. I took a deep breath, determined to survive.

The next day, we drew lots for teams. I ended up paired with Mason Lee. He grinned, shaking his slip, “Ms. Lane, what a coincidence.”

His smile was boyish, almost bashful. I could see why the fans loved him. I managed a polite laugh, hoping Evan wasn’t watching too closely.

I smiled back. “Yeah, what a coincidence.” I kept my tone light, but inside, I was already plotting my escape.

Evan was paired with Tessa Monroe. The two of them stood off to the side—Evan, as usual, expressionless, and Tessa just as cold. The others were shocked, but I could barely hold back my laughter.

Tessa shot Evan a look that could freeze water. Evan just stared straight ahead, jaw clenched.

Tessa is my good friend, the only one in the industry who knows about me and Evan. The two of them can’t stand each other—every time they meet, sparks fly. On our wedding day, Tessa almost locked the door to keep Evan out. Since then, they’ve been sworn enemies.

I remembered the look on Tessa’s face as she glared at Evan over the wedding cake. She’d always been fiercely protective of me, and Evan had never quite forgiven her for it. Their bickering was almost endearing—almost.

Max and Riley were much more civil, greeting each other politely.

Max extended a hand, Riley smiled sweetly, and the two of them exchanged pleasantries like pros. I envied their easy camaraderie.

The calm facade shattered when the director announced we’d be making our own lunch. Tessa immediately piped up, “Director, can I switch partners?”

Her voice was sharp, her eyes pleading. The room tensed, everyone waiting for the fallout.

Evan snorted, “You think I want to be teamed with you? I want to switch too.” He crossed his arms, looking every inch the sulky teenager.

He glanced at me, and Mason suddenly stepped in front of me. “The teams are set—it’s not good to change now.” Mason’s tone was firm, but I could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The director watched with barely concealed glee.

Evan’s eyes darkened, like he was holding something back. Sensing trouble, I quickly stepped out from behind Mason and tried to smooth things over.

I flashed my best peacekeeper smile, hoping to defuse the situation. The last thing we needed was a full-blown argument on live TV.

“How about I switch with Tessa? The most important thing is that everyone has fun.” I tried to sound cheerful, but my voice wobbled. I glanced at Evan, silently begging him to play along.

Tessa agreed, and Mason didn’t object. I leaned close to Evan and whispered, “I want your spicy shrimp tonight, okay?”

I gave him a wink, hoping to lighten the mood. Evan’s lips twitched in a barely-there smile.

He grunted in agreement. So in the end, Evan and I were in charge of grocery shopping and cooking.

I let out a sigh of relief. At least I’d get to spend some time with him, even if it meant risking exposure. The chat was already buzzing with speculation.

At the market, I reached for the shrimp, but he moved my hand away. “You’ve never handled this—it smells. Don’t touch.” He shot me a stern look, but there was a softness in his eyes. I pouted, but let him take over.

I glanced at him and nodded obediently.

I gave him my best good-girl look, hoping to earn a little praise. He just shook his head, lips twitching with amusement.

The chat:

[Ah! This is what you call cold? Only for his fans!]

[This is killing me. When has he ever been like this?]

[Even my husband wouldn’t do that—won’t even let her touch it!]

[Wow, she’s so obedient.]

I scrolled through the comments, grinning. The fans were eating it up, and I couldn’t blame them. Evan’s soft side was my favorite secret.

The whole time, I was basically useless, just trailing behind Evan as he occasionally asked what else I wanted to eat. Back home, he handled all the cooking. I frowned. “So what am I supposed to do?”

I hovered in the kitchen doorway, feeling a little useless. Evan moved with practiced efficiency, chopping and sautéing like a pro. I pouted, hoping he’d let me help.

He handed me a plate of washed cherries. “Here, eat these.” He pressed the plate into my hands, his eyes soft. I couldn’t help but smile—he always knew how to take care of me, even when I didn’t realize I needed it.

So I took the cherries to the living room, eating and watching him work. Mason came over and started, “Ms. Lane, I...”

I popped a cherry into my mouth, savoring the sweetness. Mason hovered nearby, looking nervous. I braced myself for whatever confession was coming.

“No need to call me Ms. Lane—it’s too formal.” I waved off his formality, trying to put him at ease. He relaxed a little, shifting from foot to foot.

He quickly switched. “Savannah, I’ve actually known about you for a long time.” His voice was earnest, eyes shining with admiration. I felt a pang of guilt—he was sweet, and I didn’t want to lead him on.

I was puzzled. “Oh? Since when?” I tilted my head, genuinely curious. Mason looked away, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

He looked nostalgic. “Back when I first started, I didn’t know anyone, and no one wanted to talk to me at an event. You were the first to say something. You told me, ‘It’s okay, just take it step by step. One day, everyone will notice you.’”

His words triggered a vague memory—an awkward afterparty, a shy new face in the corner. I’d tried to be kind, remembering how lonely it felt to be invisible.

I tried to remember—I think something like that happened, but I couldn’t recall exactly who it was. After I got famous, I always tried to comfort newcomers who looked lost and isolated. No one knew it was because of Evan. When I started, I was invisible, ignored by everyone. The loneliness and frustration nearly broke me. Evan comforted me then, saying he believed in me and that I’d go far.

I squeezed the cherry stem between my fingers, lost in thought. Evan had been my anchor, the one person who saw me when no one else did. I wanted to pay that kindness forward.

“I’m really grateful to you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it this far.” His gratitude was genuine, and I felt a swell of pride. Maybe I’d done something right after all.

In the sunlight, Mason looked even more dazzling, his gentle reassurance calming my nerves. I smiled. “It’s nothing. You got here because you’re talented—it had nothing to do with me.”

I tried to deflect the praise, but Mason just smiled, eyes shining. I hoped he’d find his own anchor someday.