As Seen On TV

18. My Hands Are Tied

"The hell do you mean, switching dates?" 

"I mean we're switching the dates around, Lyra. I don't know how many different ways I can say it."

I made a strangled sound of frustration and, grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand, flopped back onto Uriah's bed like a ragdoll.

"Trust me, b, I'm just as pissed about it as you are. They have no right."

Well, actually, they do have just about every right, since we decided to sign ours away when we thought it would be a good idea to come be a part of this godforsaken show, I immediately thought, but I held my tongue. We had already been complaining about the situation for hours, yet we both knew that it would do absolutely nothing to alter the fact that I wouldn't be going on a date with Andrew next week, and he wouldn't be going on one with Rose. I actually did feel pretty bad for the guy, considering I had noticed that he seemed to really like Rose, and yet, from what I knew of her, she didn't seem to share his enthusiasm or romantic interest. Come to think of it, she didn't really seem to like anyone.

However, she was now the least of my worries. The majority of my mental capacity was being spent pondering the rather terrifying idea that just as Andrew and I had started to get along well, we were being somewhat unceremoniously torn apart by forces out of our control. Even if I wasn't a control freak in other aspects of my routine, I sure as shit was when it came to my own life. 

I hadn't talked to either Patrick or Andrew, and I knew that I desperately needed to talk to both of them at some point, but I had been putting it off repeatedly, instead occupying myself by  going on runs around the expansive grounds of the mansion property, ordering pizza and watching Netflix with Uriah, and hanging out with Alice and Jazmin. 

I had actually spent a lot of time with Jazmin, especially this past week. Every time we talked or she laughed at one of my stupid jokes, I felt the pit in my stomach expanding and pulsing at me with waves of guilt. All I could think about was Patrick's hands on my body, Patrick's fingers in my hair, Patrick's lips on mine...

She evidently did not know about what we had done; I'm not sure why he would tell her, but I worried about it, anyways. 

At least, she hadn't know about what Patrick and I had done until last week's episode aired.

"Look, there's no point in sitting around here moping about it," Uriah said, breaking me out of my thoughts and voicing pretty much exactly what I was thinking. "There's nothing we can do."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I guess you're right."

"Ain't that always the way?" He said sarcastically. "Now get your ass outta here, I haven't FaceTimed my mom in days and she is currently not  a happy woman."

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself wearily off his bed, playfully tousling his hair on the way out. "Tell her I said hey!"

"She don't even know you, woman!" He yelled as I walked out into the hallway, closing the door unceremoniously behind me to give him some privacy. We had been growing a lot closer lately, and though I don't think either of us felt even an inkling of a feeling that could be classified as romantic chemistry, the show developers and producers had certainly been trying to spin it that way, with the way they had framed some of the episodes from the past couple weeks.

I thought back to the other day, when the most recent episode had aired on TV; the episode. The one where we had gone to the concert, where I had met Shawn Mendes, where Andrew had kissed me (that kiss! just thinking about it made my heart flutter) in front of a thousand concertgoers... 

...and where Patrick had snuck to my room at 3 in the morning with the shockingly express purpose of having sex with me. And it had worked. Almost.