The F List - Alessandra Torre Page 0,57

of tenderness but highly effective in warming me up.

“Thanks. You’re good at that.”

He grinned at me. “You’re a lot less wiggly than my dogs. They always try to steal the towel from me.”

“You have dogs?”

“Yep. Three girls. I like the ladies.” Another smile.

“You don’t post any pictures or videos of them.” It was socially stupid. People loved pets. Dog pictures helped hit the feeder markets that were slow to warm to social influencers. It’s why Nick Bateman’s followers jumped twelve percent after he got that ridiculously cute purse dog. I could just imagine Cash shirtless, wrestling around with them on a brilliantly green patch of lawn.

“Yeah, well. You don’t tell people about your sex life, and I don’t talk about my dogs.” He looped the towel around my neck and pulled me toward him. For a horrifying moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, in front of the cameras and crew. Instead, he placed a kiss on my forehead, then squeezed my shoulders. He glanced over at Dana. “You got our clothes?”

On the walk back to the fire, he reached for my hand, and for a few steps, I took it. When the camera turned to us, I released it and heard his quick chuckle float over in the dark.

“Shut up,” I muttered, and bit back my own smile.

After filming ended, we all piled into the van to ride back to the house. We were all pleasantly buzzed, with Johno and Layton past the line and fully into drunk territory. Cash and I were in the third row with Eileen, me in between the two of them. His hand settled on my thigh and curved around the muscle, a warm seal of contact that I could feel all the way to my toes. I let my hand fall over his and felt a hum of energy between us. As the van jostled over a speed bump, his shoulder rocked against mine. The opening lines of Don't Stop Believing filtered through the speakers, and Johno climbed over the center armrest and turned the sound up.

I laughed as he turned back and howled out a line of the song, then pantomimed a guitar sequence.

“Come on!” He called out, pointing to Marissa for the next line.

"Smell of wine and cheap perfumeeeee," she screeched. We all joined in on the next one, and I felt his hand tighten as I leaned against his shoulder and sang louder than I had in ages.

"DON'T STOP… BELIEVING!" We called out as a group as the van came to a stop at a red light. I watched as a girl on the sidewalk looked at us with curiosity. Her eyes widened, and she reached for her phone, not getting her camera out before we were moving, Eileen leaning into me as she crowed out the song, her eyes bright and happy. Impulsively, I threw my arm around her shoulder and sang along.

Was this what popularity was like? Moments of unity and acceptance? The high was addictive, and I felt the sudden and ridiculous desire to hug them all, even Marissa.

“You look happy,” Cash whispered in my ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happy.”

“I am happy.” I threaded my hand through his.

"I love seeing you happy." He grinned at me, and the van rammed over another speed bump, and everyone called out in protest as we flew off the seats. My head collided painfully with the roof, and I grabbed it, wincing.

He pulled me into his chest and kissed the spot. Against him, I smiled.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered against my hair. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Tell them what?”

“That your icy exterior melts.”

I grinned despite myself and thanked God for the dark interior’s protection.

64

#zzz

CASH

Like the other nights, she didn’t sneak into my room—but it didn’t matter. As cheesy and dumb as it sounds, her smile stayed with me.

“We found Emma's volunteer shirt and badge in a duffel bag in the trunk of her car. From there, it was pretty easy to find out what she was doing at the Ranch. So, yeah—we knew that she and Wesley Mitchell were friends. It was a card we held. Dana wanted to wait, and she always had a knack of knowing the perfect time to use stuff like that. And of course, she was right. The time came, and it was… well. I don't know what to say. It made for great ratings."

Rachel Gladden, Crew, House of Fame

66

#frenemies

EMMA

There was a giant blank next to episode seven. I tapped the tip