The Confused Heart

Racheals rudely slams him back into reality. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asks. By “it” she clearly means his breakup three months ago and the fact that he’s about to see his ex for the first time since they divided up their assets, Favour taking the PS5 and the apartment and all the real furniture, Peter keeping the Disney collectible mugs and the DVD box sets. “It” being the fact that Peter has to work side by side with Favour for the next nine weeks. Talking about “it” is the last thing Peter wants, so he stuffs three Oreos into his mouth. Racheals tilts her head and stares up at him. “I’m here for you, you know. If like…” But she doesn’t finish the sentence, can’t fully commit to her offer of emotional support. Instead, she reverts to their usual teasing. “You let me know when you’re ready for a rebound. I’ve got at least four dudes at my gym I could set you up with.” “Oh, sweetheart, don’t pretend like you’ve ever stepped foot in a gym.” She punches his arm. “I’m trying to be a good friend, asshole.” Racheals is a great friend, but you don’t just rebound from a six-year relationship, and the thought of dating again makes him want to crawl back into bed for another three months. He doesn’t want to go on awkward first dates with fit, well-groomed, West Hollywood queer men who won’t be able to look past his scrawny physique, his Costco-brand jeans, and his very uncool prescription glasses. He thought he was done with first dates. “I think I’m going to take a man-sabbatical,” he tells Racheals with rehearsed indifference as they continue their march toward Command Central. “Just focus on scripting other people’s love stories.” Racheals detours them by the crafty table for cold-brew refills. “Yeah, well, you’re going to have your work cut out for you this season. Have you met Mr. Charming yet?” “No, but he can’t possibly be as bad as he sounds in the group chat.” “He’s worse.” She claps her hands together to dramatically punctuate each word. “He. Is. A. Disaster. Skylar says he’s season-ruining. Career-ruining.” Peter would be more concerned if Skylar Jones weren’t always apocalyptic on the first night of filming. “Skylar thinks every season will be our last. I highly doubt Ruben Winshaw is going to topple a twenty-year franchise. And Twitter is sufficiently twitterpated about the casting.” “Well, apparently the prepackage shoot was awful. They took him to the beach, and he almost fell off his white horse.” Peter could admit that didn’t sound great. “Ruben is an outsider. He probably just needs some time to adjust to the cameras and the lights. It can be overwhelming.” Racheals rolls her eyes. “Bringing in an outsider isn’t going to convince anyone these i********: influencers came on this show for love.” “They’re not i********: influencers,” he insists. Another Racheals Lu eye roll. “Most of them are not i********: influencers. And of course they’re here for love.” “And never to promote their line of funky festival headbands on Etsy,” she snaps. “The only people who actually come on this show for love are so brainwashed by the wedding industrial complex, and so convinced their self-worth is tied to matrimony, they literally convince themselves they’re in love with a person they’ve spent all of ten total hours with.” “It’s so sad to see such cynicism in one so young.” “And it’s so sad to see such blind idealism in one so old.” He throws an Oreo at her, even if she sort of has a point. About Ruben Winshaw, not about love and marriage. In the six years Peter has worked for Ever After, the new star has always been chosen from the crop of fan-favorite rejects of the previous season. Except recently, this pattern has caused some vocal critics within the Fairy-Tale Family to cast doubt on the show’s romantic realism. Instead of coming on the show to find love, some people were coming on the show to become the next star. So their showrunner, Maureen Scott, decided to bring in an outsider for the new season to shake things up. Ruben Winshaw—the enigmatic, millionaire tech genius with an inexplicable eight-pack—is good for ratings, regardless of whether he can stay mounted on a horse. Peter pulls out a copy of People magazine from his shoulder bag. It’s the issue with their new star on the cover, the words Silicon Valley’s Most Eligible Bachelor! Splashed across the front. Blond curls and a broad jaw and a chin dimple. A perfect Prince Charming. As they turn away from the crafty table, the sun is beginning to dip behind the castle’s twin turrets, dappling everything on set in soft, orange light. Strands of twinkle lights shine from the trees like stars, and the air is fragrant from the bouquets of flowers, and it’s exactly like the fairy tales Peter imagined as a kid. “It’s a s**t storm, Peter! A f*****g s**t storm!” Skylar Jones shouts as they enter the Command Central tent. She’s already halfway through a roll of Tums, which is never a good sign this early in the night. “Why is it a s**t storm, exactly?” “Because this season is completely and epically f****d!” “I’m very sorry to hear we’re somehow f****d before we’ve started.” Peter slots in his earpiece as Racheals hands him a walkie-talkie from the charging station. “Is this about him almost falling off the horse “I wish he had fallen off the horse,” Skylar seethes. “Maybe if he’d been trampled, we could’ve cast a Jonas Brother or a subpar Hems worth.” “I think all the Jonases and Hems worths are married.” “Oh, is that why we’re stuck with a constipated computer nerd?” Peter knows better than to laugh at his boss. As a queer Black woman, Skylar Jones did not become the lead director of a reality television juggernaut by having chill. When she Peter eloped early female pattern baldness before forty from the stress of this job, she simply began shaving all her hair off. “How can I help, Sky?” “Tell me what you know about Charles Winshaw.” “Uh… Charles Winshaw…” Peter closes his eyes, pictures the spreadsheets he compiled from network background checks and Google searches in preparation for this season, and rattles off facts rapid-fire. “Has the brains of Steve Wozniak and the body of a Marvel superhero. Graduated high school at sixteen when he won a coding contest and a full-ride scholarship to Stanford.