Lo and I devised a strategy for bathing in the communal showers.
Swim suits.
My one-piece keeps me covered and lessens the risk of flashing anyone who accidentally walks into the bathroom. The first couple of times, Lo showered with me. He even wore his swim trunks in solidarity.
But today, I wanted to take a step and be by myself. I fall into my codependent ways far too easily. Another item added to my Needs to Work On list.
I kick the bedroom door closed with my foot and set the shower caddy on my desk. When I plop down on the leather chair, it lets out a farting noise from my wet bottom. My eyes bug and I check over my shoulder, making sure I’m alone.
No lurkers.
No ghosts （that I know of）。
Good. I return to my laptop and log onto the internet. If I don’t check my calendar every day, I’ll forget about some random homework deadline—or worse—a quiz. The joys of online classes. The upside is that my internet privileges have been restored. Lo trusts me more, and I’m beginning to find the same trust in myself. I need to navigate the internet without “stumbling” on porn.
Before I pop up my calendar, an alert pings.
**5 new articles featuring Lily+Calloway+sex**
This isn’t porn.
Just so we have that clear.
I’ve set my computer to track the articles that talk about me. It’s a little obsessive, sure.
I scroll through a few of the articles, most featuring a variation of the same headline. Lily Calloway to Star in Reality Show this February. Watch the promo video here!
I’ve seen it ten times already, but it doesn’t stop me from clicking on the link.
The screen turns white and starts playing “Animal” by Miike Snow. I don’t know what the production company was trying to say. We’re not all animals. Okay, I may be a sexual animal, and I think Ryke is a literal animal, but the others aren’t beasts.
We filmed the footage in a studio; all seven of us （Scott included） stand in front of a white backdrop. I waited for someone to hand me a script, but the director told us to act normal, that the video would be candid.
The promo begins by panning down the seven of us, and then it cuts to close-ups, starting with Daisy on the end. She does a handstand, her white T-shirt bunches up at her neck and reveals her green lacy bra and bare stomach. She sticks out her tongue and smiles goofily. A caption pops up over her boobs.
Daredevil.
And then Ryke shoves her legs, and she crumples to the floor with a laugh. On his chest, the caption scrolls: Jackass.
The first time I saw the promo, it was like a hurricane tore through the house. No one anticipated being labeled. And it didn’t take long for me to deduce mine.
Lo and me are next in line. His arms hold me closely, our chests mashed together, and our lips devour each other in an intense kiss.
Even though it’s my eleventh time watching it, I still have to look away at this part. I never thought that watching him kiss me would turn me on. But it does. It stirs places that should not be stirred when he’s not around. I don’t trust myself that much now that I have access to the internet again.
My eyes flit up to the computer.
The words Sex Addict and Alcoholic appear across our bodies.
And then Rose, Connor, and Scott fill the screen. Rose’s yellow-green eyes are practically radiating heat, and her body is shifted towards Connor. He stares at her like she invented the sun, a look I’ve seen a million times when they have their epic nerd battles. Connor leans over to whisper in her ear, and it sets her off, her cheeks concaving in anger.
She shoves his arm and he grins.
The word Smartass flashes on his body.
Then the screen pans to Scott, who looks down （very quickly） at Rose’s boobs. And then my sister gives Scott a quick glance. The editing makes it seem like they were a couple, or had some sort of relationship. Scott tilts his head and gives pretty good bedroom eyes.
When his caption appears, it just makes me hate him more.
Heartthrob.
Seriously. He’s a douchebag. I find it insulting that out of all the guys, he gets the only decent label.
And finally the promo shows Rose, wedged in between Scott and Connor, further exploiting the fake love triangle. Both guys stare down at her with longing and desire.
Her caption pops up just as she looks directly at the screen.
Virgin.
Now everyone knows about her sexual status, but she didn’t much care about that. Rose isn’t ashamed of being a virgin. I think she’d shout it from the rooftops if she could—just to prove a point.
The promo ends with the Princesses of Philly logo and title, and then the tagline flashes on the bottom.