HIIII EVERYONE!

This chapter's been in the works for a good long while but it had a lot of transitions and those always get me so it took me forever. In other news, I made it through my Yellowstone experience alive so hopefully I can get back to updating a lot more regularly.

Thank you to my lovely reviewers, Miss Kaydence, Lizcran, Virtue01, Nameless, mnbvcxz-xx, RunawayGirl8125, suicideblonde99, delovlies, bibliophile609!

This chapter is hella all over the place and I don't have the guts to go back and do too much editing. I meant to do all the characters, but then it would be even longer than it already is and it would probably take me another two months plus it probably would get boring.

-shades

…

He had forgotten how bright the lights were.

Wesley swallowed back nerves and pulled at the sleeves of his suit jacket. Sweat poured down his sides and his tie squeezed against his throat, and he wanted to be anywhere but here. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and fiddled with his sleeves some more. He was so damn jittery.

Another light was switched on, and Wesley flinched.

Coward.

But he couldn't help it.

The lights. The noise.

Something about it brought him back, back to that warehouse in Yukon, a place he hoped he never would see again. The place where Mitch Levi had brought them, his family and the few remaining girls from Ethan's Selected. The helicopters, the compound lights illuminating the rainy night. The place where he had first seen men die. The place where he had seen his own father executed, right in front of him.

'"Wesley? Wesley! Hey, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh?" Wesley blinked as Nicole snapped her fingers in front of his face. "What?"

His sister-in-law rolled her eyes. She had been there too, he remembered.

"All of the ladies are going to get exclusive interviews tonight, with you up there with them. This is really important," Nicole said, fixing a stern gaze on him. "You need to not play any favorites. Your mother says its time for another elimination soon, you have nineteen girls left, and your last few dates haven't gone very well. The media is still roasting you for falling into the fountain the other day..."

"In other words, the pressure's on," he said, running his hand through his hair.

Nicole batted his hand away. "Stop that! You're going to mess it up!"

"Okay, okay!" Wesley held up his hands in defense. "Why is this so important?"

"Everyone keeps saying that you're not taking this seriously."

"I'm trying my best!" he protested. "What's with you tonight?"

Nicole cocked an eyebrow and put her hand on her hip. She looked like a fairy tale princess in her empire-waisted pale pink gown, covered in tiny rhinestones, but there was murder in her eyes.

"Look, I'm pregnant and hormonal, I don't have time to deal with your shit. I swear, Wesley, sometimes you're worse than Jamie and he's two. And your mother has been on us like a hawk to get this chaos of a Selection into order."

"Sorry," he muttered. "It's a lot harder than I thought it would be." Before he could touch his hair, Nicole stopped him with a death glare.

"I get it. But tonight's really important, and you need to be on your best behavior. Now, keep in mind, Lady Fallon's birthday is coming up, so we'll have to plan for that soon, which would be ideal if you could actually do something with her, because that's what ninety nine percent of Atlin wants to see. Lady Eleanor has a lot of supporters too, so you should plan a date with her soon."

"Right, got it. Fallon and Eleanor."

"And don't forget about Lady Callista, Lady Eleanor, and Lady Vera, you haven't done anything with them, so pay them extra attention tonight."

Wesley looked at the stage. Usually on Reports he just sat there and looked pretty with the rest of the fam, but tonight, he was going to be right there in full spotlight, and every single thing he said and did would be broadcasted live.

Plus, he had to do it with all the Selected. Right there.

He was going to have to marry one of them.

"Uh, Nicole, I don't think I can do this," he said, starting to feel sick to his stomach.

She put her hand on his arm, and her eyes softened. "Yes, you can."

He looked over to where they were standing around with snacks and drinks, waiting for the call to go backstage. All dressed up and looking beautiful.

His stomach tightened, and there suddenly wasn't enough oxygen in the room. Panic was starting.

"No, no, no, you don't understand. I can't do this." He pushed away the memories that were racing towards him, but he couldn't fight all of them. He squeezed his eyes shut against images of the warehouse, of Mitch raising the gun, of his father-

"Wesley?" Nicole's voice was soft now, and all her earlier fire was gone. She touched his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

He gritted his teeth. Get it together, Wes.

Opening his eyes, Wesley looked up. But he didn't see Nicole.

His eyes almost automatically went to Lissa, handing off Evie and Sophie to Christine. She stuck out in her work clothes, compared to everyone else in evening finery. Aside from the camera crew, she was the only person there that wasn't part of the royal family or the Selected, of course, as the other children's nannies had left them with their parents. She smiled as she said something to Christine, and then reached down to oblige Evie a hug as the little girl pestered her.

All around him, the faces of the Selected blurred together. Whatever Nicole was saying to him, the conversation of the camera crew, and the sounds of everyone else faded. More stage lights were flipped on, but for a moment, he only saw her.

And just for that second, everything was okay.

He watched her, back to oblivious to whatever Nicole was saying and whatever was going on. Yeah, that might make him a stalker, but at the moment he didn't care. The way she brushed the hair out of her eyes when she nodded her head, the way she tilted her head just slightly when she talked to Christine.

How she bit her lip as she turned to say her farewells for the day.

And then she was gone, slipping out of the doors, and leaving the studio.

A loud noise, the sound of the buzzer, went off, signaling that it was time for everyone to take their places, and the broadcast would begin shortly.

Wesley flinched.

Coward.

...

He was sweating bullets.

Wesley was sure that the microphone pinned to his suit jacket lapel could pick up the pounding of his heart as the host of the Report introduced the broadcast. She was new, as they had only begun filming the Reports in the last few months, and the few before Wesley's Selection was announced was filled with updates on the peace negotiations with the northern provinces and the rebuilding of the country. Only recently had they become more lighthearted, fighting back against whatever illicit sources leaked the latest catastrophe that was this Selection.

Rebecca Jackson was young, rather inexperienced, but beautiful and charismatic and popular among the people.

And she was making Wesley very, very nervous.

"And first up, enjoying the spotlight with our Prince Wesley, we have our local girl from Angeles, Lady Iris!" Rebecca all but shouted. Wesley was already sitting on the stage, just behind Rebecca, across from her chair. His family was seated off stage a little behind them, but still on camera. Iris came from backstage, all the cameras trained on her.

It gave him a little comfort that she looked just as nervous as him, though probably a lot more pretty that he did right now. Her dress was white, coming to above her knees. It was made out of lace, fitting close to her body with long sleeves that flared out above her elbow. She sat down next to him, tucking her short black hair behind her ears. She had a smile pasted on her face but up close she looked downright terrified.

As he'd been instructed to, he stood up to greet her, and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek, which made her blush pink.

"Hey," he whispered. Her eyes met his for a moment before they flicked away.

"Hey yourself," she said back. They both took their seats.

As much as he liked Iris, the whole debacle of their date still hung heavy on his mind and made every interaction with her awkward. He just hoped Rebecca wouldn't bring it up.

"So, Lady Iris, tell the people of Illea a little about yourself!" she said brightly.

"I'm from Angeles, as you said," Iris began. Her voice was steady, but Wesley knew she was nervous. She sat with her back straight, hands coiled into tight fists and resting on her knees. "I just moved back there, actually. I spent six years in Japan, but I moved back for college."

"And what are you studying?" Rebecca asked.

"Architecture, mainly. I'm specializing in urban planning," Iris said, unclenching her fists and relaxing a little.

Rebecca turned her attention onto Wesley, "Prince Wesley, what do you think of Lady Iris?"

He hadn't been given any of the questions ahead of time, so he was terribly unprepared.

"Um-" he stammered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Iris watching him.

Get a grip. He told himself. You've been through a lot worse. No one's trying to kill you.

"Lady Iris is very sweet," he managed to come up with. "I really enjoy spending time with her, she's...easy to be around."

It was lame, but then again, this was his personal life and the entire country didn't need to be privy to it.

"You two recently were out together in downtown Angeles, were you not? Lady Iris, what's it like being so close to home while in the Selection?"

Wesley breathed a sigh of relief that she didn't ask about the incident.

"It seems very far away, honestly," Iris said. "But it's nice to not be so far away."

"It was cool to see where she lives and know the city she grew up in," Wesley added. "I haven't been able to do that when anyone else. I've lived in Angeles all my life, but I know next to nothing about the city."

"Aw, that's sweet," Rebecca continued. "There's a lot of civilian footage emerging from that date, and a lot of people are wondering what happened. Prince Wesley, could you shed some light on it?"

He heard Iris's sharp intake of breath beside him and he gritted his teeth. Underneath his suit jacket, his shirt was soaked with sweat, and it was only the first interview.

He had panicked. He kept seeing memories. They wouldn't leave him alone. He was losing his mind.

But none of those answers would fly very well on live television that only everybody in the country watched.

"Actually, Rebecca," he choked out. "It's more of a private matter, and not one I'm willing to discuss."

The host looked a little shocked. "Alright…" she lost some of her bouncy demeanor but quickly brushed it off. "Lady Iris, what do you say has been your favorite part of the Selection so far?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "It's all so much fun, the clothes, living in the palace, everything!"

"And Prince Wesley, what's your favorite part about Lady Iris in the Selection?"

There were lots of things about Iris that he liked, but he didn't necessarily want to spill them all out on live television. But he also didn't want to come off as a total jerk like he probably already did.
"Actually, one of the first times I met Iris, her cat ran out of her room, which I then found out she had smuggled into the palace," He told Rebecca. "I ended up sneezing all over her because I'm embarrassingly allergic to cats."

"You weren't supposed to tell anyone I had him!" she protested, touching him lightly on the arm. Then she giggled, and looked away, rolling her lips together, remembering she was on camera.

Wesley looked over at her. "I'm a prince! If you have a cat, I'll make sure you get to keep him!"

Iris grinned at him.

Rebecca asked them a few more generic questions, and then everyone in the studio was clapping as Iris left the seat next to him and Rebecca called the next girl down.

"Up next, we have Lady Lillian!" she announced. For a few precious seconds the spotlight was off him and onto Lillian. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was styled in tousled waves, and her olive-green dress fell to just below her knees, with thin straps and a plunging neckline. She smiled softly at him and took her seat.

"Lady Lillian, welcome!" Rebecca beamed brightly. "All of Illea probably already knows but can you tell us where you are from?"

Lillian calmly crossed her legs and leaned back in her seat. "Of course! I'm from Ottaro."

"And what did you do before joining our Prince Wesley at the palace?"

"I worked in forestry, I studied trees and our environment and helped take care of it," Lillian replied.

"And how are you enjoying your stay in Angeles?"

Lillian glanced at Wesley and smoothed back her hair. "It's very lovely here. Quite different from what I'm used to, though."

"What do you mean?" Rebecca pressed.

"She means that I'm here, she's not used to me," Wesley interrupted, the stupid joke coming out of his mouth before he even thought of it.

Both Rebecca and Lillian looked at him funny and tried to suppress the stupid grin over the stupid joke, but it wasn't going well. Then Lillian giggled.

"I guess you could say that," she said. "All of it is very different, I'm used to being outside in the wild all the time, not being inside in all the glitz and glamour of this place."

"And how do you feel about Prince Wesley?"

"He's very nice," Lillian began. "He's been very kind to me."

"And Prince Wesley, how do you feel about Lady Lillian?" Rebecca asked.

He had been hoping for a little more than "nice" from Lillian, so he didn't exactly have a good answer.

"Lady Lillian gives very good advice," he said. "And she laughs at all the stupid things I say-most of the time," he added. He didn't have the guts to say that she was really pretty, and she had seen him at one of his worst moments so far at the reception and had been courteous about it.

"Lady Lillian, the media and the public have been calling you one of the most beautiful girls of the Selection, how do you feel about that?"

Lillian tipped her chin into the air. "I think all the girls here are beautiful, and personally I don't think people should put so much stock in appearances."

Her tone was clipped, and she seemed offended. She answered many of the next questions about fashion and the palace lifestyle as short and nondescript as possible.

Well shit, Wesley thought. Another girl who was mad.

Lady Reese and Lady Isabella were next, and both of their interviews went very well. Surprisingly, even though sitting next to Lady Darcy was terrifying on all its own, the tiny blonde who was usually so animostic towards him all but purred to Rebecca and sang his praises the whole time. He didn't say much of anything, but hopefully it looked good on camera. He knew Lady Nikoli didn't like him much, but she was polite on camera and it could have gone worse. It mostly him cracking ridiculous jokes, but whatever.

He was glad when Eleanor was announced. She was dressed a bit more formal than the other girls in a tea-length lilac tulle gown, but the delicateness of the dress only made her look more beautiful. Her raven hair was swept up and she looked like a masterpiece. He remembered Nicole telling him to pay her extra attention, but he didn't think that would be difficult.

However, she was wearing Lissa's necklace, the one he had given her, and to see that stung a little bit. As he stood to greet her, she kissed him on the cheek before he even had a chance. She pressed her hand to arm as she did so, and he felt his blood charge. As they sat down, he noticed how pale she was, and then she met his eyes for a second and she looked downright terrified.

Rebecca introduced Eleanor to the camera, announcing that she was from Tammins.

"Now we're going to do something a little different this time," Rebecca teased. "Instead of letting Lady Eleanor tell everyone about herself, we're going to see how much our Prince Wesley knows about some of his Selected!"

Wesley whispered a curse under his breath as he flashed the camera fake smile at the same time. He glanced sideways at Eleanor and was surprised when she grabbed one of his hands, her fingers hot as she twisted hers around his tightly.

"Well," he began, resisting the urge to bolt. He settled for leaning back in his chair instead, trying to loosen Eleanor's grip. "Lady Eleanor is a ballerina. She's very sweet, and I'm glad she got to come when the first girl from Tammins declined," he paused, and the studio was dead silent, everyone wondering what he would say about Eleanor. He remembered her coming up to him and introducing herself at the reception and rescuing him at the Victory Ball to dance with him.

"She's amazing," he began, but hesitated.

"Aw, you're sweet," Eleanor said, pressing the palm of her hand against his arm, her smile crinkling up the corners of her eyes. She was still wearing Lissa's necklace, though how could she know the significance of the thing? She was also always so forward that it caught him off guard. And once he had screwed up at the Victory Ball, as quickly as she had rescued him, she had left him. "I'm very honored to have her here," he finished quickly and formally.

It seemed like Rebecca had been hoping for more, but she had plenty of questions to get what she wanted.

"And you, Lady Eleanor, what do you know about Prince Wesley?"

Eleanor squeezed his hand from between their thighs where she held it captive.

"Well, Rebecca, I can tell you I still have a lot to learn about him, but even in this short amount of time I've learned a lot. He's a very special kind of person, he's so genuine and kind to me, and even being a prince hasn't made him into a snob, which is what I was worried about coming into this. He's got a good head on his shoulders and whenever I see him around the palace, he's such a commanding presence."

Her answer was so perfect, almost as perfect as the way she turned her head to smile at him, her eyes locked on his. Wesley quickly remembered to return it as best he could.

That didn't sound like him at all.

"You two seem to be very close. Lady Eleanor, as far as we know, you are the only girl to have received a gift from the prince so far. Can you tell us a little more about it?"

Eleanor beamed. "Oh! Yes of course!" her hand went to the necklace. "Prince Wesley gave this to me on the night of the reception. I was lost, and he helped me find my room. He's such a gentleman," she gushed.

Unfortunately, he still didn't remember most of that night thanks to getting majorly drunk. He also had no idea what he had been thinking. He had no idea what had happened, but knowing drunk him, he probably would have been just as lost as Eleanor that night.

He let go of her hand.

From next to him there was a sharp intake of breath and she missed Rebecca's next question.

"Sorry?" she said, her voice slightly strained.

"Have you and Prince Wesley been on any dates so far?" Rebecca asked again.

"Oh. No, we haven't. There's a lot of girls here." Eleanor fumbled out an answer.

"Speaking of which," Rebecca turned to him. "Prince Wesley you've already eliminated sixteen girls, and people have been commenting on your harshness and the quickness of your decisions. Are you planning any more eliminations?"

Great. This was going...just great. Wesley managed not to roll his eyes.

"Well, I can only marry one, can't I?"

Things got a little awkward after that, so Rebecca thanked Eleanor and called the next girl down. Valette's interview went about as well as the polo date had, but at least she didn't storm off early. She was civil but brutally honest, and by the time she was done, Wesley was severely uncomfortable. Ophelia was charming and confident though, and she made it easy to engage with her even though they were being interviewed. Alyex giggled a lot and her cheeks were stained with a blush the whole time, and she blushed even harder when he teased her about it, but at least it would look cute on camera. He would have to take her out on a date soon, this time by herself, he decided.

He had been dreading Piper's interview, and for good reason. While she managed to smile as she came out to the stage, when he stood to kiss her cheek and greet her, he saw there were tears in her eyes. She looked scared enough to cry, her hands knotted around the gold detailing of her navy-blue dress. Her mouth was slightly open and sweat beaded on her forehead under the bright lights. She barely seemed to register it when he kissed her cheek, just nervously smoothed her long blonde hair.

Mood, Wesley thought.

He lightly touched her hand before they sat down. Maybe it would give her a little confidence.

She shrank back in her chair as Rebecca bombarded her with questions, barely even saying her name to the camera before asking her about her occupation.

Piper swallowed hard. "Um," she began, very softly. She cleared her throat and the rest came out a little louder. "I just finished high school. I work as an exercise rider at a racetrack."

"Like Lady Nat," Wesley offered, trying to get some attention off Piper. There were some scattered chuckles around the room from the Selected and the royal family.

"Have you met Lady Nat, Lady Piper?" Rebecca asked.

Piper nodded but didn't look like she could say anything.

"And how was it meeting a former Selected?"

"It was really cool, but Nat's a little scary," Wesley chimed in. "Didn't you think so, Piper?"

He finally got a tiny smile out of Piper, and this time she shook her head no.

"Do you like her more than me?" he teased. She shook her head again, smile growing.

"Ooh sounds like you have some competition there," Rebecca said. Wesley and Piper laughed, but he could still see Piper's jaw clenched tight and the fear in her wide eyes. On impulse he draped his arm around her shoulders. Under his hand her spine stiffened, but she didn't pull away or hit him or anything exceptionally embarrassing, so that was good.

Rebecca asked Piper some of the more generic questions, and she answered them as quickly as possible. Wesley tried to help her out, but he just ended up clowning around as usual and looking like a fool.

Fallon was next, and to be honest, he had been dreading her interview too. But surprisingly, she was totally different than he expected. She was calm and professional and courteous. She didn't insult him this time at least, but she wasn't receptive to his camera flirting and barely acknowledged his presence, giving her answers just to Rebecca. He knew he overcompensated on his answers, but maybe it would end up looking good on camera.

Several more interviews passed in a blur, and as the hour stretched on Wesley was looking more and more forward to getting absolutely shitfaced (without letting his mom or his sibling babysitters know of course) when this was over. Veyra's interview was fun, consisting mostly of them joking around together and both laughing hysterically despite trying to remain professional. If he wasn't abso-freaking-louty thoroughly sick of the Selection he might have invited to the Wesley-getting-completely-wasted party, but he decided to save it for another time.

After Callista being surprisingly chill and political at the same time and Dresden being...well, Dresden, only Vera and Georgia had left to go.

Vera sat next to him stiffly after Rebecca called her down, her arms crossed over her nude-pink dress. The little flimsy sleeves covered the scars on her shoulders he noticed at the Victory Ball.

"Hi," he whispered to her as they sat down. She smiled briefly at him. The last time he had talked to her had been at the Victory Ball when they had gotten into each other's history. He hadn't gotten specifics, but if he knew one thing it was that Vera had gone through some major trauma and it still deeply affected her.

At least Rebecca didn't quiz him about Vera, because honestly he knew next to nothing about the blonde girl sitting next to him. Still, she was on Nicole's attention list, so he had to at least try.

He found out she had been on military leave, and she was from Yellowknife in St. George from her basic introduction that Rebecca had her do. She then asked Wesley about his impressions of Vera and how he liked having her at the palace. The only thing he could think of was meeting her at the reception barefoot and carrying her heels with her skirt all bunched up, so she wouldn't trip. Vera seemed a little embarrassed, but hey, it was cute and endearing to him, might as well tell everyone who was way too invested in his personal life anyway.

"How are you liking it here?" Rebecca asked her.

"I'm not used to the heat or the dresses. I despise the dresses. Other than that, everybody's really nice and it's extremely different."

"Why did you sign up for the Selection, Lady Vera?"

Vera pressed her lips together, leaning forward in her chair. "Everybody I knew no longer lives in St. George. There's so many memories and history from what happened there. My entire family fought and now it's just my brother and me. He doesn't cope very well, and I just needed to get away. It's like I'm a constant reminder to Luke of what we lost."

A silence settled over the studio, only Vera's soft voice echoing throughout. Wesley shifted his weight in his seat, bouncing his leg up and down.

"How do you cope with your losses?" Rebecca asked gently.

Vera cleared her throat. "I keep my mind off of it. I try to distract myself, but there are bad and good days. Sometimes I only can feel the white pain of a gunshot wound." she swallowed hard. "That's why I needed to leave St. George. It's always worse there. Too...too many reminders of my family."

The studio was no silent, a far cry from bantering with Iris or his awkward attempts at flirting with Piper.

"Tell us about your family," Rebecca said, softly.

Vera kept her eyes on her lap. "Well it's only been my brother and I for a while. I used to have a sister and brother, though." At this, she broke into a smile. "They were the best kinds of people, those warm and happy people. The kind you want to be around. Whenever they would walk into a room I'd smile. My parents were killed in the war pretty early on…" she trailed off, and Wesley thought Rebecca was wise to not press her anymore.

A somber mood had settled over the studio, so Wesley was glad he only had one interview left. Next to him, Vera was biting her lip, but she tossed her hair back and straightened her shoulders. Her interview had been shorter than the others, but he thought it wise that Rebecca didn't continue.

"Well, we're glad to have you here at the palace, Lady Vera, thank you so much for joining us."

She smiled tightly, and Rebecca turned back to the camera. Wesley took it as a cue to stand, and Vera nodded to him as she took her leave.

"And last, but certainly not least, our last girl of the night is Lady Georgia of Yukon!"

Georgia was actually smiling more than the two centimeters he might have interpreted as a smile before. She practically strutted out onto stage, wearing a velvet red dress with black hose and elbow length black gloves, and of course black heels that had to be at least five inches tall, making her just taller than him.

Like he had with all the others, he knew he had to greet her in the same fashion, but she fixed her amber eyes on him and he got that mouse being hunted by a cat feeling again. He hesitated with one hand halfway extended. But she walked right up to him and pressed her body against his side. Wesley was caught off guard, but he managed to put his hand on her waist for a second and lightly press his lips to her cheek. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but mostly of intoxicating perfume and hairspray, and her skin was cold, like a porcelain doll.

They sat down, and Rebecca began to ask Georgia the questions all the girls had got, about living in the palace and such. She engaged easily with Rebecca, her voice loud and commanding and she said all the right things. Her face looked weird with a smile, Wesley decided, and it wasn't one that seemed natural. It didn't quite reach her eyes, and they remained dark as ever. It made his skin crawl.

"What are your thoughts on dating Prince Wesley?" Rebecca asked.

Georgia pasted on another smile. "It's very interesting, living in the palace. Wesley's got his own quirks and I've enjoyed getting to know him."

Something made him say it. Something stupid, something out of control, something scared and hurt and he'd never been very good with impulse control anyway.

"I'm not sure I add up to leaders of the rebellion," he said with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

For once, Rebecca didn't have anything to say. She just pursed her lips and clamped them into an amiable expression. Georgia fixed her eyes on him and her face went back to normal, no longer contorted into a smile. Then she made a little laughing sound but narrowed her eyes at him.

Rebecca laughed too, and Wesley knew someone would yell at him later for his remark.

"Lady Georgia, you've recently been hailed as a national hero for your work during the war, how does the Selection compare to that?"

"It's different, for sure." Georgia began. "But I find that aspect to be welcoming. I don't see myself as a hero and I never have, so I don't expect glorification here."

"Prince Wesley, you're in a similar situation. You were also a hero in the war, how does coming home and having a Selection measure up to that?"

Dammit, they just wouldn't let up on him.

Hero, my ass.

He gritted his teeth. "It wouldn't be my first choice for activity, that's for sure," he forced out a laugh. "But yeah, like Georgia said, it's different and that's good. But I was never a hero just for being a prince and I think everyone needs to stop calling me that because I wasn't, I never was."

He cut himself off before he launched into a tirade. Better stick to conversation about dates and first impressions.

Rebecca quickly turned back to Georgia. "Are you doing any spying here during your stay in the palace?" she joked.

Georgia obviously didn't think it was funny. "No," she said, voice flat.

Wesley resisted the temptation to just storm out of the studio then and there. Luckily there were no more loaded questions, Rebecca seemed to have gotten the memo that those sucked. He wanted to cry when she finally began to wrap things up, dismissing Georgia and getting the camera to pan on all the girls instead of him. The second things were over, he was off the seat and running out of the studio.

It was raining outside but Wesley slammed the doors to the garden terrace anyway. He did manage to exercise enough self control not to run out in the pouring rain and settled for standing under the overhang of the porch, gulping in great lungfuls of cool air. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the last hour.

As much as he had tried to pretend otherwise, it had been horrible.

He wasn't a hero. He wasn't right. He had promised himself he would take it seriously but right now that seemed impossible. He didn't even want this stupid Selection and yet it had been thrust upon him anyway to pretend like everything was okay and he was okay, and it wasn't it wasn't it wasn't.

He sat down on the wet bricks against the wall, pulling his knees up and resting his head in his hands. Blocking out the Selection only made room for other memories, ones that were a lot more painful and dark. Another rainy night.

He heard the doors open and the tap of high heels on the pavement. Great.

They stopped and then a unlit cigarette landed on his lap.

"You look like you could use it."

Georgia stood above him, holding a half-empty box in one hand and a lighter in the other.

He looked up at her, the landscape lighting illuminating her halo of golden curls.

"I know I could," she said.

Wesley picked it up and held it up to her. "Thanks, but my mom would kill me."

She probably would, and though he knew it would give him something to do to calm down, he also thought of his copilot Drake, and how he always smoked when he got nervous. He had picked up the habit too and would bum them off Drake who would tease him relentlessly for being a broke prince. It got tense waiting around for orders sometimes. But he hadn't had one since Drake died.

Georgia shrugged and took it back instead of getting one for herself. She lit it and held it between her index and middle finger as she wrapped her lips around it and inhaled. "It's a disgusting habit anyway." She blew out a stream of smoke and they were quiet.

"You ruined my interview," she said after a moment, lowering the cigarette.

Wesley looked up at her and then back down. "Sorry."

Georgia leaned against the wall and used a red-painted fingernail to tap the ash off the end of her cigarette.

Wesley took a shaky breath and pressed his head back into his hands. Georgia held out the cigarette. "You sure you don't want one?"

This time he took it, and ignored the pink lipstick pressed into the white paper as he drew in a lungful of smoke. He handed it back to her and exhaled. "Thanks."

"I'm trying to cut back anyway." She took a puff and then gave it back to him.

They said nothing, only listening to the soft patter of rain on the plants, glowing in the lights.