Chapter 11
1325 Words
THE ANNOUNCEMENT.
BELLA
The moment Ava finishes her briefing, Chase and I practically flee in opposite directions.
Neither of us says goodbye. We don't even look at each other.
The second my bedroom door clicks shut behind me, I release a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
Silence.
Blessed, beautiful silence.
It only lasts for approximately three seconds, as I finally activate my social media account, and my phone explodes.
Notifications flood the screen so fast they're impossible to read.
Instagram messages, tags, and mentions.
Then comments on my videos, and more messages.
I stare at the endless stream of alerts with growing horror.
"What the hell..."
I collapse onto the edge of my bed and unlock my phone.
Most of the messages are from strangers.
People who somehow think they know me. And all because of one clip? They range from supportive to invasive, and some are downright unhinged.
Mixed in between are dozens of messages from Nora. I smile despite myself. Trust Nora to spam me harder than the entire internet combined. My thumb hovers over her messages before I get distracted by another notification.
Tagged in a video. Then another, and another. My account has been tagged multiple times and even doomscrolling doesn't work as I can see my face on my FYP.
One particular video has accumulated over two million views. Which is to say that at least two million people have watched me threaten a hockey player with my eyes.
Wonderful. Just wonderful.
I search for Ava's production company page and follow it. The account is gaining followers by the second. I click on the latest upload. It's a teaser. Not the actual episode. When I scroll once again, I see that it's actually two videos that have been posted with the show's hashtag.
The first begins with dramatic music. A black SUV, which I assume to be for Chase, pulls into the driveway. Then Nora's bright yellow car appears behind it.
The footage slows dramatically.
The camera cuts to Chase stepping out of his vehicle, then me stepping out of Nora's vehicle, and finally, both of us dragging our suitcases toward the house.
The video ends with bold white letters splashed across the screen.
ANTICIPATE THE HOTTEST STORY ON CAMPUS.
IS THE GOLDEN ATHLETE GOING TO CHASE BELLA?
I nearly choke.
"Oh my God.”
I cringe so badly at the arrangement of the last words, as the pun is so bad it physically hurts.
Unfortunately, judging by the comments, I seem to be the only person who thinks so.
“HE'S GOING TO CHASE BELLA. GET IT??”
“WHOEVER WROTE THIS DESERVES A RAISE.”
“I'M SAT.”
“THIS IS ALREADY MY FAVORITE SHOW.”
I stare at the comments, my eyes not quite believing what they're seeing. Then I stare at the ceiling, before getting back to the comments.
Humanity has failed me.
I open the second video. This one is a montage of Chase and me walking through the house. The video highlighted parts of me and Chase arguing in the hallway, arguing in the kitchen, and arguing in the living room.
The video basically conveyed that our primary form of communication is hostility.
The editors have leaned into it completely.
Every glare is slowed down. Every sarcastic remark is amplified. Every moment of tension is accompanied by suspiciously romantic music.
If the comments on the previous video were ridiculous, these ones were downright insane. They were asking for the full episode, saying things like,
“WE NEED THE FULL EPISODE.”
“JUST ONE EPISODE PLEASE.”
“I WOULD SELL MY SOUL FOR THIS SHOW.”
I blink.
Then reread the comment. Then blink again as I say out loud now,
"What is wrong with people?"
Who says things like that? For a reality show?
I'm still struggling to understand why Ava hasn't released the full episode, until I remember her suggestion to change the direction of the show. Which means she probably had to scrap the prepared one and come up with a new announcement.
Knowing Ava, it'll be dramatic. I switch notifications on for the page.
If she's putting my life on the internet, the least I can do is know when it happens.
Tossing my phone onto the bed, I decide I need matcha.
Immediately.
A few minutes later, warm matcha cradled between my palms, I ease my bedroom door open as I peep outside. It's like a habit that's developed too fast.
But I step out as I see that the hallway is empty.
The cameras don't help. Neither does the fact that I now live with Chase Carter. Keeping my footsteps quiet, I make my way to the only room in this house which I would probably ever feel comfortable in.
I head toward the library. The moment I step inside, my shoulders loosen.
As I enter, it's like I'm transported to a world where it's just me, the smell of books, and the solitude that has seemed to elude me since I came in contact with Chase.
And speaking of Chase, I don't know how to look at him now without remembering his face from early this morning.
Walking among the rows and rows of books, the scent of paper and polished wood settles around me like a blanket.
I sink into one of the chairs and take a slow sip of matcha.
**********
By the time I return to my room, the sky outside had darkened into a deep blue.
The digital clock beside my bed reads 6:03 PM.
I flop onto the mattress face-first, exhaustion settling into my bones. Then my phone vibrates.
I groan, rolling over, as I check the screen.
A notification from Ava's production page.
My stomach immediately tightens.
The title reads: OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT.
Well…here we go. I open it.
The thumbnail is me rolling my eyes at Chase. Attached beneath the clip is a YouTube link.
I click, and the video loads for a while, before Ava appears on-screen.
She's all perfect posture, perfect smile, and perfect lighting. And behind her, dramatic music swells.
"For weeks, this campus has been divided."
Images flash across the screen. News articles. Screenshots and overlays of social media posts.
"One side sees a journalist fighting for accountability."
A photo of me.
"Another sees an athlete judged before all the facts are known."
A photo of Chase.
She pauses for dramatic effect. Even the applied sound effects are dramatic.
"Instead of another debate, we're trying something different."
The infamous press-conference footage appears. The one that started everything. The one that changed both our lives.
"Can understanding exist without agreement?"
The clip cuts to Chase and me arguing.
"Can conversation exist without hostility?"
Another clip of us glaring at each other and still arguing.
"And what happens when two people stop seeing each other as headlines?"
The screen fades to black.
I stare at it, motionless. If someone had told me a month ago that I'd become a reality-show character, I would've laughed in their face.
Now? My life has been timed into weekly episodes.
The video ends with a promotional graphic announcing the release schedule and the network to watch. There's even a website for behind the scenes.
Every Saturday. One episode per week.
For the next four months. Four months.
The number alone makes me dizzy.
I'm still processing that horrifying reality when a voice suddenly crackles through the house speakers.
"Residents, dinner will be served in ten minutes."
I nearly launch myself off the bed.
My hand flies to my chest.
"Jesus Christ."
My heartbeat takes several seconds to recover. I stare up at the ceiling, thinking about the cameras, the announcements, the filming schedules, the weekly episode
s, and the athlete across the hall.
A long sigh escapes me as I climb out of the bed thinking, so this is my life for the next couple of months? Oh God!!
- Writer
