Grant hoards statistical information that’s really very depressing, like the fact that the divorce rate for people who get married when they’re twenty is a bazillion times higher than that of those who get married in their thirties. I keep trying to tell him that statistics don’t mean anything when it comes to true love (and slipping human interest stories about high school sweethearts into his backpack), but he won’t listen.

I sigh.

“Ally, come on, you’re not that stupid. Think about how many relationships end because of distance, or going off to college.” I shoot him another look. “I’m not saying that’s going to happen to you,” he adds quickly. “But you have to admit it does make for an interesting story.”

“Great,” I say. “Everyone wants me to end up brokenhearted and miserable so that America can be entertained.” I have visions of people across the nation popping popcorn and celebrating the fact that Corey and I are broken up. They’ll have, like, office polls or something to pick the date of the big breakup, just like they do for the score of the Super Bowl.

“It’s not like that, Ally,” Grant says. “You got picked for certain reasons, and your relationship was probably one of them. But who cares? Just because that might have had something to do with you getting on the show doesn’t mean anything bad is going to happen.”

“You’re right,” I say, staring down the girls in the corner determinedly. “It’s not.”

NOW

Walking home from lunch with Grant, I started to feel for the first time that maybe coming on the show hadn’t been the best idea. I was beginning to realize that blending in was going to be impossible. How was I supposed to meet any cool, new college friends with those stupid cameras following me? Would they even allow cameras at frat parties?

Plus, it was a bit disconcerting to think that my relationship with Corey was the reason I got cast. I mean, it’s not like it never crossed my mind that it may have had something to do with it. Mike the producer’s eyes had lit up when I mentioned the fact that Corey and I had been together for two years, and he practically had an orgasm when I told him Corey was a college basketball player. But I never thought that could be the only reason they would cast me. I mean, how stupid was that? We were strong, we loved each other, and a little distance wasn’t going to change that. I was convinced we could outlast this, and whatever else was put in our way. But then Corey met Jen, and everything changed.

THEN

Two weeks later, I’m lying on my bed doing some reading for my psych class when Simone walks slowly into our room, a weird look on her face.

“Something horrible is happening,” she says, sitting down on the edge of my bed. She’s wearing a light blue hooded sweatshirt and a pair of dark jeans. Her cheeks are red, like she’s been out in the cold, even though it’s seventy degrees out.