THIS SEASON'S CONFESSIONAL managed to be even more elegant than the last.

Coco thrived on being prim and proper twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year, and she wanted that to reflect in everything she did. In her albums, her EPs, the show, the events she attended. My sister was the embodiment of elegance, her swan-like grace making millions of people around the world swoon.

Since Coco Says was to be as realistic as possible, the confessional was located in her Malibu beach house. She only came here in the summer for her "vacation"—a home away from home, she called it—even though I didn't think she needed it. Coco could vacation in her Calabasas backyard if she was being logical, but I guess people who had a lot of money liked to get themselves nice things that may or may not make sense to other people. Besides, who was to say I wouldn't buy a plane if I had the money for it?

The plush regal-ish couch adorned with throw pillows hemmed with gold thread sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the beach in what used to be her TV room, and everything seemed to sparkle beneath all the extra lights that had been set up in here.

I was getting ready to go on camera in a joint session with my sister, the wardrobe assistant struggling a little to get me into a skin-tight blouse, while one of the makeup artists rapidly ran a brush across my cheeks. It wasn't every day we had a wardrobe malfunction, but it happened more times than I liked, and Coco was usually the one on the receiving end, partially because of her perfectionist tendencies.

These clothes had been sent to the house prior to today. I'd put them on, and they fit perfectly. Today, the zipper of the blouse was refusing to go up, leaving half of my back open as the poor woman tasked with handling our clothes worked to get it unstuck. None of the backup clothes fit right, with me either not having the boobs or shoulders for them, so unless the other wardrobe assistant got back with the backup's backup in time, we were screwed.

"All right, can you arch your back for me again?" Laney asked behind me, and I did as she said, careful enough to not make any movements that would jeopardize my makeup. Chaos begat chaos.

In front of me, CJ chuckled. "This is such a disaster," he said.

"Tell me about it. Why me, right?"

"Like, you're the nicest person I know. Coco deserves this way more than you do." He tilted my chin up, and I blinked at the bulb that delivered a sudden burst of white light into my eyes. My head was still pounding, even more now with all this pressure, and I was very sure I needed about seventy-four hours of sleep.

The iced coffee Coco had gotten me on the way here—which was now sitting warm and unattractive on one of the vanity tables—was not helping my cause.

"Ha-ha. I see what you did there."

For the first time in five minutes, Laney laughed, right before admitting, "This isn't working. I think I'd just do a crisscross stitch on the back as a last resort."

"Wouldn't my bra look weird being out like that with the zipper?"

"Not necessarily. Hold on." She moved to stand in front of me, then touched her hands to my chest. "I think this can go without a bra."

"So I should take it off?"

"If you're worried about it being out."

"I mean, your back is literally facing away from the camera," CJ added, always helpful.

"Thanks, CJ. What would I do without you?" He beamed at me. "You should start with the stitch, Laney. On second thought, I don't wanna take this off again."

As she left to go grab her supplies, the door opened, and my sister walked in with her best friend following closely behind her, the both of them ready since, like, an hour ago. I was facing the door, and since I had to keep my face in place, the best I could do was avert my eyes when Takoda's gaze found mine from across the room. It was like we were opposite sides of a magnet, always aware that the other was within reach even though we weren't actively seeking each other out.

It was absolutely infuriating.

Coco noticed me a second later, judging by the soft, amused gasp she released. "You're still with the blouse?"

"You won't believe how soaked my bra is right now," I told her. "This is like cardio 201."

I still refused to look in her general direction, only just becoming aware of the soft thumping behind my ribcage. Okay, so I was nervous, but rightfully so. I mean, I kissed him, and even though I was only vaguely aware of it, he didn't look mad. Takoda usually saved all his anger for the paparazzi anyway, but the way he'd been stealing glances at me all morning made it clear that he wanted to talk about it, or at least say something regarding it.

I wasn't interested. A drunken mistake was a drunken mistake.

"And to think I believed today was going to go smoothly."

"I need you on this couch in two minutes, Cleobelle," Mark said from where he'd set up camp between all the equipment a few feet away from the couch, and Laney came scampering back with a neeedle and thread.

"Way to put pressure on me, Mr. Producer."

"You're welcome!"

"Thank God we came early," Coco said, walking up to me, and when I decided to look back towards her, Takoda was (thankfully) taking a seat in the corner, already pulling his phone out of the pocket of his pants.

Yeah. Thank God.

My sister decided to be extra by adjusting the neckline of my top, and just like that, I had three people working on getting me ready. Laney's needle poked me once, earning me an overenthusiastic apology from her. I ended up laughing it off because I couldn't blame her. Everyone was tense for me. We had a schedule that was so tight, it couldn't be compromised, especially not for a wardrobe emergency.

Despite all the obstacles, I ended up getting my backside on the confession couch before my two minutes were up, and as Coco got a touchup next to me, I internally prepared myself for Mark's questions while simultaneously trying to ignore the fact that Takoda's eyes were back on me. I could only see a part of him behind the cameras and other equipment, but the heat of his gaze seemed to burn through all of it.

Didn't he know how distracting it was? Why was he even staring at me? Why now?

On closer inspection, I noticed that he wasn't aware of it. There was something faraway about his presence, and for a split second, I wondered if he was okay.

I was only vaguely aware of when the clapperboard was clicked and when we were asked if we were ready, too focused on being distracted, but then I met Mark's beady eyes, and I quietly took the bottle of water by my feet.

"Okay, so, Coco, how do you feel about the show being renewed for yet another season?"

My sister beamed at the camera as I took a sip of water. "I feel very excited and partially nauseous doing this again. I mean, I had the first half of the year away from the excessive cameras and scrutiny, and it almost feels unreal to be filming again, but I have a very good feeling about this season."

"You have a good feeling about every season," I said after swallowing a mouthful of water, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her turn to look at me.

"Yes, Cleobelle. It's what normal people call being positive. Do you even feel positive about anything?"

"Of course I do." I met her eyes. "Right now, I feel very positive about the fact that this will be over soon, and I'll get to go home and put on my baggy clothes."

"You know," Coco said, looking back to the cameras, "on second thought, I don't think I want her here. She's killing my energy with insane speed."

Mark laughed, easing my shoulders a little. There was nothing to worry about, was there? It was just a couple of questions, after all. I guess my mind couldn't get past the thought of what Robin could've said when she came in here. She had less scenes, so she was the first to come in.

"Cleo, what have you been up to all this time? Between January and now, have you done anything worth mentioning?"

"No."

Immediately, Mark narrowed his eyes at me. "You know the drill, Cleo."

"I'm sorry. It was a reflex response. I've been extremely bored this entire time. I think the fact that I'm out of high school just sort of sank in, and I realize that I have no idea what people who are out of high school do."

"I think they go to college," Coco said.

"I will ignore that."

"Okay."

"So you're not up to anything? No personal projects?" Mark asked again.

I thought about it for a moment. "Well . . . I have been trying to get back into photography. I lost my spark and hated every photo I took for, like, months, but lately the feeling of creative dread has . . . lessened? Is that the right word for it?" I hoped the emotion I felt while revisiting this topic wasn't evident in my voice. The last thing I needed was Mark asking me unplanned, impulsive questions.

"All right." He looked into the notepad he was holding. "How about your sister's album? How do you feel about it?"

"I think Coco has worked really hard on osmosis. It feels really good to see how far she's come in her career. So good, I think I'm jealous."

"And you, Colette?"

Next to me, my sister shifted her weight. "A lot of blood, sweat and tears went into my new album. Like, literally. I tripped in the studio once, fell and almost took out the equipment, bruised my arm, had to get stitched. Funny stuff. I also had this moment where all I could feel was overwhelmed, and I would leave the studio, then go somewhere to cry because I was so freaking stressed out with everything. I'm very grateful that I had the support of my family and my best friend, who's literally the sweetest person on Earth right now."

I had to control myself to stop the scoff from sounding. Takoda wasn't sweet. He was anything but sweet.

At the mention of him, I spared him another glance. He was still sitting where I last saw him, scrolling through his phone. For some reason, I felt a pang in my chest when I saw the way his wavy hair had flopped over his left eye. He'd once told me that his hair was constantly being experimented with by stylists because of the texture and waves, and that while he didn't completely hate it, he mostly preferred it to just be the way it wanted. The way it was right now. He was always pushing the stray strands back, but he'd never looked annoyed doing it.

As if reading my mind, he reached up and secured a lock away from his face, and I think I kind of temporarily died in that moment. I loved his hair. I loved his hair so much that I could barely keep my hands away from it when we were still together. He hadn't minded that, either. It was all very ridiculous to think about now.

"Cleobelle," Mark called, a little forcefully, bringing my attention back to him. "Are you okay? You seem distracted."

"I'm hungover," I said immediately, trying not to sound nervous. He'd caught me staring. I could tell from the way he was looking at me, from the way his eyes were narrowed but alert. "Like, very hungover."

"Maybe you shouldn't have had so much to drink last night. We have embarrassing footage of you."

I winced. "You're not gonna use that, are you?"

He shrugged, then looked back into his notepad, and for the next thirty minutes, he asked mostly basic questions. First episodes were usually the lightest, with little to no conflict, so overall, the confessional ended up not being as bad as I was anticipating. An hour later, Coco and I were done with our joint session, and I was about halfway out of the couch when Mark asked me to wait.

"I still have some private questions for you."

My body immediately tensed up, and I sat back down, awkwardly twirling my vine ring around my index finger. For reasons best known to him, Mark waited for my sister to go back to Takoda before continuing with me.

"I'm gonna show you some footage," he said, looking at me intently, almost like he was expecting some kind of reaction.

Because of that sole reason, I kept my face straight, maintained my composure. "Okay."

He gestured first to the camera, then to the guy behind it, and I watched in crippling slow motion as the one scene I never thought would be up for discussion was displayed on the screen.

My face felt frozen for a moment, and I didn't realize when exactly I said, "Oh, shit." All I knew was that I did.

"That's about accurate," Mark commented with a smug smile, leaning back in his chair.

I felt like a fish out of water, feeling the eyes of everyone boring into me, waiting for something other than my frozen state. But what was I supposed to say?

Instinctively, I looked towards where Takoda was sitting, and it was like he knew something was wrong. I didn't think he could hear me—he didn't look like he was paying attention—but with the way his shoulders had gone rigid, I wondered if he did. Maybe I was louder than I thought.

"What's going on here?" Mark asked, still smug, still incredibly satisfied with the outcome of things. "Why are you and Takoda . . . Why are you kissing?"

and our dear producer just asked the question of the decade. if he doesn't win any awards for that, i'm rioting. that is all.