"What was that again?" I shouted over the cafeteria cacophony, straining to hear Megan amidst the lunchtime pandemonium. The university's dining area was already a madhouse by noon, thanks to the influx of students looking for grub.
"Megan, seriously, you've got to speak louder! My eardrums are fighting a losing battle against this lunchtime symphony," I hollered back, cupping my ear in a theatrical display of trying to catch her words.
With an air of dramatic flair, Megan slid a red envelope across the table, adorned with the unmistakable LOVESTRUCK logo. She'd been trying to sway me to her side with a flashy, game-show-winning prop. Earlier, she'd proudly paraded the LOVESTRUCK raffle prize—her golden ticket to bypass auditions and straight into the reality dating circus. And now, as if she were auditioning for an infomercial, she was delivering her persuasive pitch. "Sid, you've gotta do this! Even if you lose, the consolation prize is totally worth it!" she urged, batting her eyelashes like a hopeful contestant.
In response to the siren song of persuasion, I did what any sensible person would do—I leaned back in my chair and, for dramatic emphasis, scooted it a couple of feet away. I had zero intention of getting involved in this nonsense from the start. But there was something oddly compelling about Megan's over-the-top performance that had me slightly intrigued. It could be her sheer determination or the fact that she made it sound like this LOVESTRUCK thing was the key to my very existence.
The show's exploitative antics and manipulative strategies were precisely what made me cringe. That was why I abhorred it so much. LOVESTRUCK was basically a carnival of ratings-boosting humiliation, where producers could gleefully trample on contestants' dignity all in the name of entertainment. I mean, they could practically copyright contestants' "right to pee when you need to." The producers, I thought, were like chess players stuck in a losing match.
"I can't, Megan. I despise that show!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in a theatrical show of exasperation. Who would have thought I'd find myself in a conversation where I'm contemplating the possibility of becoming a contestant on a reality dating show? And to top it off, it would be broadcasted nationwide.
"But I love it! The drama, the twists, the excitement, the exotic locations, and, come on, those kissing scenes! Ugh, it's killing me. I'd so love to experience it, but my dear Migs, the ever-possessive jerk, won't even let me," she lamented, her eyes filled with both longing and frustration. Migs had been her boyfriend for years, and I couldn't really fault her for not wanting to jeopardize her relationship by jumping onto the LOVESTRUCK roller coaster. She was head over heels for the guy, and the last thing she needed was a love show causing heartache.
I shot her a side-eye glance, followed by a slow headshake. Deep down, I was hoping she'd just let it go. Financially, I was in a tight spot, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, her offer had some appeal. But if you knew Megan, you knew she could talk a cat out of its fur, so this was like trying to outwit a human whirlwind.
"Ten grand, Sid! That's the consolation prize! It could cover most of your next semester fees! Just put on a fancy dress, flash those pearly whites at the camera, and boom! Ten thousand pesos in your pocket!" Megan's eyes sparkled, urging my curiosity to play along. And deep down, I knew her intentions were good. She was well aware of my financial strain as my graduation approached, and she was determined to rescue me from the tuition pit. "I'll handle the gown, the bling, the whole nine yards. Deal?"
I couldn't help but roll my eyes, taking one final gulp of juice before setting down my empty glass. The look on my face must have given it away—I was slowly being reeled into her plan.
"You're impossible," I retorted, a mixture of exasperation and amusement in my voice. Megan's persistence was truly a force to be reckoned with. And my resistance? Not much of a fortress, it seemed.
"No, you are! It's just for one night, Sid! One night, and you'll have ten grand in your pocket. You'll practically be moonlighting as a part-timer at a fast-food joint! So?" Her eyes locked onto mine, the glint of sincerity and mischief dancing in them. She knew how to play her cards right, especially when she was looking out for her friend.
"I wouldn't if I didn't really need the money—"
"Yes! Oh, absolutely!" Megan cut me off, her excitement snatching my words right out of the air. With a triumphant grin, she grabbed my hands and held them aloft, as if declaring me the champion of a reality dating show that I hadn't even officially signed up for yet.
Just for one evening. All to snag that consolation prize and give my fridge's cluster of overdue bills a good run for their money. My heart began pounding, my breath quickening. Nervousness settled in, like the feeling right before a roller coaster drops and you know you're in for a wild ride. Because, as ridiculous as it sounded, I had a sinking suspicion that something absolutely bananas was about to go down.