The Spotlight

Chapter 15

The persistent buzzing of my phone jolts me from sleep. Groggily, I reach for it, squinting at the screen. Multiple text notifications from Emily flash across my lock screen:

Have you packed yet?

Don't forget your lucky t-shirt!

Text me when you're settled at the contestant house!

I groan, burying my face back into my pillow. Today's the day I move into the contestants' house—a mansion in North London where we'll all live while competing on the show. The thought sends a flutter of excitement through my stomach, quickly followed by anxiety. Living with my competition means no escape from the pressure, and after last night's dinner with Gary...

I push the thought away. We agreed to be friends, and that's all we can be. Besides, I need to focus on the competition.

Rolling out of bed, I survey my half-packed suitcases. Clothes are strewn across my bedroom, and I still haven't decided what to bring. The production team said we'd have limited space, but how limited?

My phone chimes again with a text from David.

Morning! Excited for moving day? Need a hand with your bags?

I hesitate before replying. David has been nothing but kind, but after those tabloid rumors, I'm wary of giving anyone more ammunition.

Thanks, but I've got it sorted. See you there!

Three hours later, I'm standing in the driveway of what can only be described as a mansion, my two overstuffed suitcases at my feet. The house is imposing—red brick with ivy climbing up the walls, large windows gleaming in the afternoon sun, a manicured front lawn that stretches for what feels like acres.

A production assistant with a clipboard approaches me, her smile bright and professional.

"Riley! Welcome to the contestant house." She checks something off her list. "I'm Zoe, and I'll be your house coordinator during your stay."

"Nice to meet you," I say, trying to match her enthusiasm.

"Let me show you to your room," Zoe continues, grabbing one of my suitcases. "The others have been arriving all morning. You're one of the last ones."

I follow her through massive double doors into a foyer that looks like something out of a period drama—chandelier, sweeping staircase, marble floors. Crew members carry equipment, contestants wander about looking as overwhelmed as I feel, and somewhere, someone is belting out vocal runs.

"This place is incredible," I murmur, taking in the high ceilings and ornate moldings.

"Wait until you see the facilities," Zoe replies proudly. "Full gym, media room, indoor swimming pool, and a practice studio. You'll have everything you need to prepare for the live shows."

We climb the staircase to the second floor, passing several contestants on the way. I exchange quick hellos with Sean from my category and a few others I recognize from bootcamp. Zoe leads me down a long hallway, stopping at the second-to-last door.

"This is you," she announces, pushing the door open.

The room is larger than my entire flat, with a queen-sized bed, desk, wardrobe, and an en-suite bathroom. Large windows overlook the back garden, where I can see a swimming pool glittering in the sunlight.

"Wow," I breathe, setting down my suitcase.

"You'll be sharing a bathroom with the room next door," Zoe explains, gesturing to a door on the right wall. "It connects both rooms."