Reality Check

9. Gasp

"What on earth did you do, make out with a beehive?" Devin screeches.

I'm scheduled to shoot a confessional in a half hour, and my lips are swollen. Very swollen. I also have bags under my eyes. Devin really has her work cut out for her.

I may or may not have stayed out until four in the morning, kissing Max all over Coral Beach. We made out inside the cabana, against the cabana, against three different cabins, by both villas, and in various different places on the sand, horizontal, vertical, rolling around, everything.

He infuriates me, but I couldn't keep my hands (or lips) off him. Now, I can't get my mind off him.

"Not exactly," I mutter.

"They're going to have to edit this in post-prod," she sighs. "Don't move the ice until I say."

I nod and let her cake my face with foundation and concealer, all while pressing an icepack to my mouth. Finally, long after my lips go numb, she works some contouring magic—who knew you could contour lips?!—and I look less like a botched lip filler patient.

Harper meets me by the greenscreen room where they film the confessionals. "What's this I hear about swollen lips?" she asks teasingly.

"Uh..."

She smirks. "I'll get it out of you later. So, confessionals. I assume you've seen them before on reality shows?"

"Yeah, I have." I'm not a reality TV fanatic like Noelle, but I don't live under a rock.

"Great. The crew will ask you a few questions about the guys you've met, the mixer, and the incident with Wyatt last night, unfortunately. They wouldn't budge on that one, but I asked them to save it for last so you aren't feeling upset while answering the other questions. Be sure to take your time to think about your answers. You can give a couple different responses to each question, but once it's on camera, the crew won't erase it. Make sense?"

I nod. "How long should my answers be?"

"As long as you need without rambling. They'll cut and edit as they see fit. Short and sweet is best."

"Okay." I take a deep breath. "Thanks, Harper."

"Sure thing. Go on in when you're ready."

I don't think I'll ever be ready, so I just nod and step into the soundproofed room. A barstool sits in front of a bright green, well, screen.

"Hello," I say, trying not to bite my lip while breaking the incredibly tense, awkward silence.

"Mia, excellent. How are you feeling?" Sarah asks.

Like I made out with a beehive, actually. "Well, thanks. How are you?"

"Doing well. We've got a couple questions for you. Remember to answer in complete sentences, as our viewers won't know what we asked. Why don't you take a seat on the stool over there and we'll get to it?"

The second I sit down, a guy lunges out from behind a camera and pushes at my back and neck until my posture is to his satisfaction. Kind of a throwback to picture day in school when the photographers came at me with combs.

"Mia, how was your first day on Enlisted?"

I was expecting this one. "My first day on set was overwhelming, but in a good way. I've already made some great friends, and I'm excited for the dates next week."

"Okay to move onto the next?"

"Sure." I think that answer was fine. My goal is to stay as positive as possible in these. If I get painted the villain, my Enlisted experience will be a rough ride.