The reality show went live, and my inner voice was accidentally broadcast to the entire world. [Holy crap, is it over yet? I want to die. How can they talk so much? I just want to eat!!] [There are so many hot guys here. Their bodies are top-tier.] [How do I ask one of them to grab dinner with me? I’m losing my mind here!!] The A-listers, the chart-toppers, and the heartthrobs—everyone on set turned their heads in unison to stare at me. [Did I commit a crime? Why is everyone looking at me?] The live stream chat exploded. Everyone had a look of pure amusement on their faces. Except for one man. His face was thunderous. 1 I was the "comparison bait" of this reality show. My job was to play the resident "Pick-me girl." Everyone implicitly agreed: Riley Miller was a tool. Wherever the show needed a target for hate or a point of drama, they threw me in. Unlike other actresses who struggled with being "black-listed" or "the internet’s villain," I accepted the role with open arms. The reason was simple: I didn’t care about being famous, and the production team paid me a ridiculous amount of money. When others carried heavy water jugs, I would act weak and pretend I couldn't lift them. When others did manual labor, I’d put on a dainty voice and say I was a princess whose hands shouldn't touch dirt. When others played volleyball, I said I was afraid of the ball hitting my face and leaving a scar—or worse, getting a tan. Just like that, I successfully gathered a massive army of haters! “Why did the producers hire her? Are they trying to kill the show? She makes my blood boil!” “Everyone else is working. Why is she special? Does she really think she’s royalty? Get her off the screen!” “Last time she ‘accidentally’ fell into Liam Harrison’s arms and said it was a total coincidence. Like, why his arms specifically? God, this fake act is disgusting.” The live comments were like a light tickle to me. They didn't matter. The more they hated me, the better I was doing the job the producers gave me. The better I did, the bigger my paycheck. Thinking about the money, I started grinning like an idiot. Tiffany Vance, sitting next to me, nudged me with her elbow. "Riley, what are you smiling about? Everyone is having a serious discussion, and you haven't said a word." The feeling of being snapped out of a beautiful daydream was annoying. My mood flattened. I wanted to snap at her, but I remembered the cameras and held it in. Before I could start my performance, a strange sensation—like a mild electric current—pulsed through my body. Something felt different. But I didn't care. I was too busy coming up with my next "Pick-me" script. Ah, I got it! 2 I furrowed my brows and looked at Tiffany. "I don't really have anything to add. Everyone’s ideas are so progressive and profound. Unlike me, I’m not very smart. I probably shouldn't have even joined this roundtable discussion..." My inner voice: [Damn it, it’s lunch time. Why is everyone yapping so much? And why cue me? So annoying.] [Hahaha, somebody just slap them all and let's go!] While no one was looking, I even threw a quick, sharp roll of my eyes. Suddenly, everyone froze. They stared at me, their faces etched with shock. Jessica Sterling, sitting across from me, let out a dry laugh and addressed the group. "Well, let's end with one last question, then we can go eat. The question is: What is your current dream?" "I’ll go first," Jessica continued. "My dream is to land three lead roles in major films over the next two years, and at least one of them has to be an Oscar contender!" "By the way, Riley hasn't participated much. Riley, why don't you share yours?" Ugh, again? Can they just leave me alone? I rolled my eyes (internally, I thought) and cleared my throat. Then, I put on my highest, most artificial "baby voice." "My dream is to become a philanthropist. I want to help so many people in need. Even though I’m far from that goal, I’m going to keep working hard for it!" The comments sections went ballistic again: “I’m done. She is so fake!” “Philanthropist? More like a hypocrite. Does she ever speak without a script?” “Kill her with kindness, boys! Let’s burn this girl down!” But the very next second, my inner voice projected: [My dream is to make bank, then eat. Eat the best food. Like, I should be eating right now, but instead, I have to listen to this group of people talk about 'dreams.' I am literally having a minor mental breakdown!] [I wonder if I can invite one of the hot guys here to dinner. Honestly, there are quite a few who are worthy of dining with me.] I rested my chin on my hand, staring at the table and daydreaming about where I could go out for a massive meal after filming ended for the night. When I looked up, I realized everyone was staring at me with the weirdest expressions. There was surprise, panic, confusion, amusement, mockery, and even fear! [Why is everyone looking at me like that? Did I say something wrong? Is it a capital crime now?] I reviewed my performance. I had followed my "Pick-me" script perfectly. I was a flawless villain. It had to be them. They were the ones being weird! Instead of doubting myself, I decided to judge them! The expressions on their faces shifted from complex to purely entertained. The live chat was losing its mind: “NO WAY. Why is she so different inside? She’s a legend!” “Did you guys see that? Why are her thoughts appearing above her head? There’s a literal chat bubble floating there!” “Her mental state is so relatable. She wants to destroy the world every second.” “Wait, can everyone on set see that bubble too?” At that moment, only Liam Harrison—the top-tier heartthrob—remained dark-faced, fiddling with a silver ring on his finger. The others were whispering amongst themselves. Liam, acting as our "Town Mayor" for the episode, spoke coldly. "Fine. It is time for lunch. Everyone is dismissed." Hell yes! 3 The news of "food" was something I caught instantly. I practically bounced out of my seat, ready to bolt. I was so happy I started babbling. "Thank you, Mr. Mayor! You're a saint! Love you!" People started filtering out of the hall, but I could still feel their eyes glued to my back. Just as I was about to charge out like a bull, Liam blocked my path with his arm. He stood right in front of me, staring into my eyes. "Feeling bold, are we? Already planning dinner with a 'hot guy'? Hmm?" He was a head taller than me. His voice seemed to vibrate right above my scalp. I didn't dare look up. I took a sharp breath. Liam was my complicated ex. We had broken up six months ago after a massive blow-up fight. Looking at his face up close, I could see his sharp, handsome features. He was... undeniably a "hot guy." But he was definitely excluded from my dinner list. Because as the saying goes: A good horse doesn't turn back to eat old grass! Despite the lingering feelings of the breakup—and the fact that I had cried through two or three boxes of tissues back then—once it’s over, a woman shouldn't look back. Gearing up for a performance, I met his gaze and started acting. "Oh, no, no! I wouldn't dare dream of eating with a handsome guy like you. I just want a simple meal here. Some eggs, corn, maybe a salad. I don't want to waste the town's limited resources, considering how little food we harvested..." That’s right. In this "Small Town Challenge," we had to provide for ourselves. All our personal money was confiscated at the start. We had to earn our own way to buy groceries. We had spent all day in the sun harvesting corn, and we only made about eighty dollars for the whole group. Liam narrowed his eyes. "Oh? So you do know our resources are limited?" I nodded vigorously, biting my lip. "I’m very considerate. If I eat less, others can eat more. That’s a kind of happiness too." Internal Riley: [Rolls eyes violently] [Since I joined this crappy show, I haven't had a single bite of real meat. Now I’m being interrogated just because I’m hungry!] [Screw that. I hate salads. I want junk food. I want fried chicken, burgers, hot pot, steak, and a massive feast!] [It’s tragic. I’m not even asking for much. Just give me some fries. Living is basically just going to the pier to get some fries. I’d settle for my favorite French fries.] Liam seemed to stare at the top of my head for a long moment. Then, he spoke slowly. "Let's go." He pulled his hand back. His sudden change in attitude left me dazed. He turned and walked out, gesturing for me to follow. I hurried after him like a broken record. "Where? Where are we going? Where?" His eyes crinkled slightly, his tone laced with a hint of helplessness. "To get you some fries." 4 One second: A good horse doesn't eat old grass. The next second: Damn, this grass is delicious! Previously, everyone had paired up to cook and eat together, but I was always the odd one out. No one ever invited me. I knew why. My "Pick-me" persona was too annoying. I had offended everyone who could be offended. Honestly, they were being very polite. If I saw someone like me fluttering around every day, I’d want to slap her too. I had spent my days like a pathetic puppy, trying to scavenge food from the different groups. "Jessica, what is that? It looks so red and yummy!" "Tiffany, I haven't eaten all day. Can I just have one bite? Just a tiny one!" "Austin, do you need help with anything? I can prep the veggies or wash the dishes. I just can't cook... you know, last time I made something, even the stray dogs wouldn't touch it. If you could just give me a taste..." "It's dinner time again! Is there any kind soul who will give me a scrap of food? Hunger! Food! Now!" Seeing this, the internet trolls had written a poem for me: Riley Miller, the Queen of Fakes. A cockroach that hunger never breaks. Title: Just one bite, for God's sake. So, when Liam said he’d make me fries, my internal excitement was beyond words! Liam went to a clean prep station, pulled out some fresh potatoes, and tied on an apron. I watched him pull a massive sack of potatoes from a lower cabinet. I was stunned. "So many?! Where did you get those?" Liam didn't look at me. He began methodically taking the potatoes out. "These weren't part of the communal stash. I helped the old man next door with some farm work after dark last night. He gave me these as payment. I thought you... I mean, you all liked them." His eyes were downcast, his long lashes fluttering slightly. His movements were steady. I knew Liam could cook. He was top-tier in the kitchen. His kindness made me feel a little guilty. I walked over quietly, intending to help peel the potatoes. The "Pick-me" lines were on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't get them out. Just as I reached for a potato, he stopped me. "Just sit down. You’ll cut your hand, and it’ll hurt." I froze. My heart skipped a beat. A cameraman was filming us, so I leaned into my script. "Well... yeah. Cutting my hand would be bad. My hands are meant for hand-modeling. I can't risk a scar. You're rugged and tough, you should definitely do the peeling!" 5 After saying that, I even put my hands on my hips for effect. Liam’s fans exploded like a landmine, trashing me in the chat: “What a spoiled brat! Liam is cooking for her, and she’s complaining? She can't even peel a potato?” “Liam is 'rugged'? LOL. He grew up in a wealthy family with a dozen maids. Since when does he do manual labor?” “Only one question: Why is Liam cooking for her? Usually, she’s the one begging for scraps. Is the sun rising from the west today?” “What is their deal? They aren't even friends, right? Is something going on? Guards! Bring me my private investigators!” Tiffany Vance walked by and heard me. She couldn't help but chime in. "...Liam, you really have a heart of gold." I felt a little guilty after saying those words. But Liam didn't seem surprised or angry. "She’s right. Riley has the most beautiful hands." Tiffany: "?" Me: "?" My inner self was having a breakdown: [Liam is being so nice, making me fries, and I’m still being a total bitch. I am literally a villain. I am the worst.] [He actually accepted my fake attitude and agreed with me... I’m going to want to slap myself in the middle of the night for this.] [Liam, after this show is over, I promise I'll be a better person! I'm tearing up!] My inner monologue was a non-stop drama, scolding myself from every angle. Liam glanced at me, the corner of his mouth curling upward. "Let's hope so." I was confused. Why was everyone looking at the top of my head today? Was there something wrong with my hair? I pulled a small mirror from my pocket and checked my reflection, specifically looking for anything weird on top. The cameraman wiped sweat from his brow and zoomed in on me. I let out a soft cry, ruffling my hair, and said with exaggerated vanity: "After careful inspection, I am indeed still stunningly beautiful!" But in reality, I had noticed something wrong with the top of my head. My hair... it was thinning a bit. [This is the first time I've seen my bald spot so clearly. It’s hideous. I have instant looks-anxiety. Someone help me! What if they notice? My hair has been falling out so much lately. I only have like five strands left.] [I need to wear a hat next time before anyone else discovers the secret of my thinning hair.] The live stream chat was dying: “I didn't know about the bald spot, but now the whole internet knows! Hahaha!” “Why does she always say the opposite of what she thinks? She’s so insecure inside, but she acts so narcissistic.” “I’m crying. Does she really not know we can see her thoughts?” “Wait, I actually find her kind of cute now? Someone wake me up! I was her #1 hater yesterday!” “Stay strong, Hater Army! If she gets redeemed, who are we going to troll?” Tiffany leaned in and whispered, "Do you... really not know we can see your heart voice?" 6 I was completely confused. What did she mean, "see my heart voice"? Was this some new reality show gimmick? I activated my "improv" skills and replied naturally, "Of course I know! It’s the new theme of the show!" Whatever game the producers were playing, I was going to play along! Tiffany pursed her lips and walked away without another word. Liam’s fries were fresh out of the oil. The sizzling sound filled the kitchen, and the aroma reached every corner of the room. He didn't just fry my favorite fries; he also made braised potatoes, spicy potatoes, garlic potatoes, and cheesy potatoes. It was a potato feast. I sat down immediately. Looking at the table full of food, I felt like this was the highlight of my entire miserable reality TV life! I wanted to grab my fork, but then I realized Liam hadn't sat down yet. I put the fork back and sat up straight. "Mr. Harrison, don't worry about the rest. Please, sit and eat. I’ll do the dishes later." [It smells so good. I’m literally ascending. Sit down so we can eat! I’m starving! I love potatoes so much!] Liam took off his apron and sat down, gesturing for me to start. I took a bite of a fry. The crunch was so satisfying it felt like a direct hit to my soul! I looked up and caught Liam’s eye. His gaze was full of raw expectation. "Is it good?" I paused. In that moment, I forgot my "Pick-me" script and replied with a hint of feigned indifference, "It’s okay. Edible." [It’s so good! It’s amazing! It tastes just like it used to. Liam makes the best fries—so crispy. The potatoes are so fresh. It would be perfect if there was some ketchup!] Liam suddenly got up, went to a cabinet, and placed a bottle of ketchup on the table. "Here, make do with this." My eyes lit up. At this moment, Liam was basically a god in my eyes. The live chat was losing it: “‘Just like it used to’? Did Liam cook for her before? Something is fishy here. What did I miss?” “Liam, be careful. You’re showing too much love. Anyone can see how much he favors Riley.” “They are actually kind of cute together. If Riley acts normal, I can ship this.” “Hehe, two tsunderes. I am living for this!” The moment of bliss didn't last long. Others followed the scent and naturally brought their own bowls over. Jessica joked, "I’ve never seen you cook before, Liam. Turns out your secret talent was only for her. Can I... have a taste too?" 7 Tiffany chimed in with a smirk, "Liam made this specifically for her. I saw them earlier. Well, technically, Liam did all the work while Riley just watched... but then again, Riley is the 'princess' of this show. She doesn't have to lift a finger." She giggled behind her hand. I put down my fork, my mouth twitching. "I was actually going to call everyone to eat, but you guys got here so fast! Join us!" Inner Riley: [Get lost. What do you mean I’m the 'princess'? Last time we were harvesting corn, you all complained about being tired after ten minutes. I’m worried about your health. You have the bodies of 60-year-olds and the emotional maturity of toddlers.] [If I hadn't worked on a farm as a kid, we wouldn't even have this much corn. I worked my ass off while you all did nothing.] [God, I hate that face. I hate people who are passive-aggressive. If I ruled the world, I’d lock these people up and force-feed them their least favorite foods every day! Garbage people!] Just thinking about it made me feel a bit better. The air seemed to freeze for a few seconds. Tiffany’s face turned several shades of red and purple. Jessica couldn't help but laugh out loud. "I never knew Riley was so... funny and cute?" Liam noticed Tiffany’s changing expression and added another blow. "You didn't know? I did." "Wait, what?" Why was their conversation so confusing? Tiffany’s breathing became ragged. She frowned and said, "Fine, I won't talk. Can I at least have a fry?!" Before her fork could reach the plate, Liam pushed the entire dish of fries toward me. "You can eat anything else. The fries stay here. She likes them." Tiffany was fuming. I could practically see the steam coming out of her ears. I said generously, "It's okay, Tiffany. Do you want some? I can share. It's a lot; I probably can't finish them all anyway." [Actually, I could finish them all. If you guys didn't show up, they’d be gone by now! Acting with you is so exhausting. One more word and I’ll dump this plate on your face.] Tiffany turned on her heels and stormed off in her designer heels without another word. Jessica gave me a big thumbs-up, smiling broadly. The audience felt like their justice had been served: “Yes! Keep roasting her! I’ve hated Tiffany for so long. Riley is my spirit animal!” “Polite on the outside, insane on the inside. I think I love her. Her mental state is iconic!” “Can we disband the Hater Army? I can't even troll her anymore. She’s the most honest person in Hollywood. I’m a fan now.” Liam was looking down, smiling. His tone was almost fond. "Little liar. Not a single honest word out of your mouth." 8 After lunch, we had the most dreaded part of the day: the group challenge. We were split into teams to sell the corn on the street. Whatever money we made belonged to the team, and the team that sold the most would get an extra two hundred dollar bonus from the producers. When I saw the random teams, I nearly lost it. I was teamed with Austin Brooks and Tiffany Vance. The worst luck ever. Tiffany sat on a wooden bench outside, slowly touching up her makeup. The other teams had already left. We were the last ones. I nudged her. "We should go. Otherwise, we’re definitely going to sell the least, and we won't have enough money for dinner." Tiffany reluctantly followed me. There was one basket of corn that required two people to carry, which wasn't an easy task given we had to walk over a mile to the town square. After carrying it with Austin for twenty minutes, Austin complained his hands were sore. Tiffany immediately took over. "I’ll help!" I looked around. Of course—the camera was directly on her. Under the blazing sun, everyone was sweating. Tiffany was wearing leather gloves, sun-sleeves, and holding a small portable fan. Less than five minutes later, Tiffany slammed the basket onto the ground. "It’s too heavy! I’m done!" I looked at Austin. He waved his hand dismissively. "I don't want to carry it either. It’s too heavy. I need a break." I stood there, alone in the wind. Are you serious? A wave of rage washed over me. I suddenly remembered all those group projects in college where teammates would just "go MIA" and leave me with all the work. They take the easiest tasks and do the least work. And because we were "colleagues," I couldn't just curse them out. I used to just vent on my private social media. But now, I was in the industry, on a reality show, and I had to deal with this again. Fine. The audience was confused. Why was I the only one willing to carry the basket? “This team is going to fail. They won't even reach the square before dark.” “This is why teammates are important. If you have dead weight, you’re screwed.” “Why is Riley so calm? Is she giving up too? I thought she wanted to eat?” “I feel like she’s planning something big...” I took a deep breath, squeezed out a few fake tears, and started sobbing. "I just... I just want to make some money. I want to buy good food. Why is it so hard? I’m so pathetic. I don't have enough money for a decent meal, I’m getting so skinny, and my blood sugar is low. I’m so dizzy..." I used my "Pick-me" skills to fight fire with fire. But my inner voice was screaming: [I’m actually dizzy from rage! I will destroy anything that stands between me and my dinner! If you two try to slack off one more time, watch me explode. I’ve held it in for too long. Do you think I’m a monk? I’m actually very strong. I could knock you both out with one punch!] Tiffany and Austin looked at each other, then at me. "Riley... fine. We’ll carry it. You just follow us and rest."
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