By: Beth Winters, The Scoop Magazine 💅 1:59 PM (EST)

twenty-six-year-old reality television star and Protection Security commercial spokesperson, has taken on a new role. Online dating! That's the tip of the iceberg, reliable source claims has landed a new contract deal with Hazel Inc., partners with Lucas and Friends, Inc. (sound familiar? Yes, indeed! They produced the reality television, Champion!). Hazel Inc. specializes in capturing the genuine and thought-provoking questions that other companies shy away from.

The show, or "documentary", is titled: Online Dating: Fiction or Real?

The synopsis reflects on the increase numbers in social media, our generation has evolved using another medium to find their true match and to fulfill our satisfaction with instant gratification. Do we use online dating as a coping mechanism, a method to decrease loneliness, friendship, or to be the "best" of us? Isn't that being fake?

Those are excellent questions. However, one thing keeps popping up.

Will this documentary be authentic as the company claims it'll be? Or is this another Bachelor's or Bachelor's Paradise?

A source states, "A reality television stars in a documentary. What do you think?"

A claim states there are three lucky women by the names: Courtney, Victoria, and Sugar, who'll help out in this endeavor. They've begun filming in Cincinnati, Ohio.

We'll give you an update on the release date.

Sponsored by TrueMatch.com ❣️

' ' ' ' ' '

I received Lydia's text message with the article's link.

Did you know anything about this?

Sent 3:07 PM

Yes, I knew.

The day I hugged him. He kind of blurted it out.

"Someone has leaked our project to Entertainment news. Along with your first names," August told me the day we were at SkyWay.

I stared. August began to rub his hand over my arms. Apology after apology came from his mouth. I pushed his hands.

"Okay," I said.

"Okay?"

I nodded. "I-I'll be going."

I left before August could convince me otherwise. In the course of the few days, I gave two signatures out (Sherman and McCoy pleaded and brought their own pink and black markers), bombarded with questions about the documentary and the guy ("Is he as hot as he is in the photos?"), and multiple starter conversations on my TrueMatch account ("are you Sugar in this article?" or "you're hawt!"). I plowed through this whole week. I felt like a month had gone by, unbelievable that it was the weekend.

Valentine's Day to be precise.

Strawberry short cupcakes baked in the 375 degree oven. Baby pink icing was complete and ready in their small plastic baking cup to decorate the cupcakes.

Dottie sat on top of the television. Her gray tail curled around the left edge, swayed over top Hugh Grant's character's (Daniel) eyes; this real life added another comedic element to the movie, Bridget Jones's Diary. I related to Bridget who feels sorry for herself being alone on New Year's Eve, a holiday like my experience. My laughter rumbled in my chest. My feet were up on the coffee table.

Yep.

Sent 3:10 PM

Why didn't you tell me? What's the future of Online Dating: Real or Fiction?

Read 3:11 PM

What was there to tell? Someone revealed the secret earlier than publicity day with a dash of doubt.

I've been swamped with work.

Haven't had time until today.

We're taking a break.

Waiting for the Entertainment hype to settle down.

Read 3:15 PM

I knew this because August updated me throughout the week. Mr. Dalton requested a meeting with him. The request got submitted: a week to two weeks break from filming. His text messages were short and explained the synopsis to me, which was so unlike him.

He's keeping something. Has he shared with Victoria and Courtney? Did they find out who the reliable source was?

Good. You need the break.

Read 3:17 PM

I nodded.

"That's true," I said to the movie. Bridget's response was falling into the lake along with Daniel. My phone buzzed, taking my attention back towards the phone.

I feel bad asking since it's your day off and everything.

Read 3:17 PM

Bubbles appeared underneath the sentence.

I have a blind date tonight.

I found out an hour ago and Clara isn't able to watch Monica.

Read 3:18 PM

I grinned. A giggle escaped my lips. I reread the text message, my eyes focused on the words: blind, date, and Monica. I glanced around my apartment, the living room space and kitchen was wiped down, dusted, and floor swept. The open area positioned new lights in lamps, and in the corner, Dottie's litterbox cleaned along with her loose litter speckles that Dottie has flung out.

There's no one around.

Running my fingers through my hair, I got up from my couch.

How did she get a blind date? Who is it?

The oven's timer beeped. Slipping on the oversized mittens, I reached into the heated wires and pulled the pan. The thick material protected me from any sensation in my hands.

What would Monica and I do?

It wasn't like there were family-oriented activities to do on Valentine's Day. Plus, I had little desire to go out. I removed my bra and wore fluffy PJs with cartoon cats on them and two-sizes too big t-shirt with gold letter words, Time to Party! We could watch movies, definitely have to turn Bridget off and put on Holiday Inn or Barbie instead.

Monica and I can decorate the cakes. Or make a new batch. She does enjoy that.

Cell phone screen lit up and vibrated on the coffee table.

With my oversized mittens, I placed the pan on a cooling rack. Sliding them off, the mittens sat on my counter as I walked over to open the new message.

Can you watch Monica? I'm sorry for the late notice. 😢

Read 3:25 PM

Nothing to apologize for.

I love to watch Monica!

Sent 3:26 PM

Excellent! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU! ❤️

I'll bring Monica over at 6.

Read 3:26 PM

A small number four was attached to the messenger app. I frowned.

I didn't hear my phone go off.

My thumb clicked on it.

I'm sorry for this past week.

It's been hectic, I'll give you additional information in person.

Hazel Inc. has launched a small investigation.

What infuriates me is the source knew all your first names.

Read 3:27 PM

He must be exhausted. The back and forth. The middle man, he'd communicated to the others and sort out the messy gossip. Cleared the nasty lies. I'd dismissed his updates earlier this week. Now his words oozed in fury, tiredness, and guilt.

No worries!

It's out of our control.

I'm sorry the Entertainment news is adding doubt into people's minds.

I'm good.

I paused, and then quickly added in another sentence.

Are you okay?

Sent 3:28 PM

Less than ten seconds later, August sent replies.

Are you sure?

You're not sugar coating it, are you?

😉

I saw the opportunity and I took it.

Read 3:28 PM

I giggled.

I promise.

We're good. 😄

Read 3:28 PM

I'll make it up to you.

Read 3:30 PM

My hands got warm.

What does he mean? I'm too afraid to ask.

I'm good.

Thank you though!

Read 3:31 PM

I recalled his reaction back at SkyWay. His immediate response, his light touches on my arms and his steady speech. Calm, solid voice held comfort. Every muscle in my body told me to push him, swipe those hands off. The sensation to cling to oneself, to wrap my arms around my chest to create a barrier. Yes, this was protection. However, his words paralyzed my limbs.

"I promise," he said.

A new message arrived from him.

No, thank you.

Read 3:32 PM

I slammed my phone on the coffee table, the screen faced down – the back was what I saw. My arms stretched out and my hands quickly moved as if the phone would have poisoned me. Licking my lips, my heartbeat increased.

Nothing. Everything's normal. I need to prepare for Monica.

As I overlooked the heartbeat that rang in my ears, I stopped the movie. I swiped over to the children's channel.

And made a mental list of possible activities Monica and I will do tonight.

' ' ' ' '

The doorbell rang at six o'clock. My fluffy teddy bear slippers slide on the foyer's hardwood floor.

"Papa, Lydia's at the door. I'll call you back," I declared.

On each holiday, Papa called right before he settled in for the night. He'd complain how he lost his energy to stay up late. He'd stay up past one in morning swaying with Mama to "My Funny Valentine"; the low and smooth tone created a peaceful rhythm to dance, holding on to each other's hands. I recalled them dancing in the evening, Mama dedicated the song to Papa. Although, Papa always argued and said, "No, this is song is for you."

"I beg to differ. Your looks are laughable, unphotographable. That's about you dear."

Papa chuckled. The palm of his hand hovered over hers. "If that's true, then the next part has to be true. Yet you're my favorite work of art."

Their teases made me giggle.

Over the phone, Papa retold this story. How he missed those silly quarrels.

"They were unimportant," he said, "yet the way she fought like it was she won a prize or something."

"Yes, she won you Papa."

It was silent. "You think so?"

A small chock came near the end.

"I know it."

I was about to tell Papa about Cassidy. His birth daughter. How she reached out to me, but the doorbell stopped our conversation.

"I promise I'll call you back," I reassured.

"Honey, if you have plans, no worries."

"Papa," I said, strongly, "Don't fall asleep."

"I'll be fast asleep."

"Ha-ha. Ha," I replied, "I'm being serious."

"So am I!"

I laughed and then wished Papa goodbye. Wisps of my caramel hair escaped my messy bun, I pushed a few behind my ear. Dottie ran into my bedroom so then she wouldn't be around strangers. Her paws patterned on the carpet.

Lydia said they'd be here at six. It's a few minutes later, I hope she's okay.

"Finally. I was beginning to worry you wouldn't –" my voice faded.

"Worry what?"

A pack of wine coolers was in one hand, the other held a plastic bag – two-cylinder containers were in it, and he wore a freakin' suit. The blazer part, not the whole outfit, displayed his core and a simple sweater covered his arms. He leaned his arm against the doorway.

"I wouldn't make it up to you?" August cooed.

Why is he here? How is he here?! What is going on?! WHAT'S IN THAT BAG??

My mind went into overdrive.

What is with that outfit? Oh crap!!

My oversized t-shirt felt heavy now and exposed, especially with no bra on. The slippers and fluffy PJs got itchy.

"August," I started but my throat became dry, coughing I continued. "What are you doing here?"

"I recalled your routine. And I thought, why not join your Valentine's ritual."

I shook my head. "Wait, how do you know where I live?"

August bit his lip.

"Remember those release forms, you had to fill out for Hazel Inc.?"

I squinted. "Really?"

August glanced at the ground.

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're a stalker. Also, this is harassment," I said. My hip leaned against the door frame.

"Yeah, well, you know," August winked, "this is totally a regular thing I do. Buy special wine coolers. These are the real deal – no off brands."

I laughed. "Uh-huh."

His sarcastic tone tickled me.

I wanted to put my arms across my chest, but that would only draw his attention to ... well ... I didn't want that. Awkwardly, I held onto my front door some more. Closing it halfway to where my head and my top half was sticking out of my apartment.

"Are you going to invite your guest inside?" he tilted his head.

"Who's my guest?"

"Aw, you're being cute, Lollipop."

My face became warm.

"You're not coming in."

"Please." He drew out the "s" and pouted. His blue eyes stared.

"I bought Fantastic's pint size ice cream." He saw my nostrils flinch. "A friendly get together."

Friendly? A friend?

The word stuck out like a neon shirt in a crowded room. All his word choices held a hidden meaning, the tone light and teasing. Which seemed to fit his personality. Carefree though?

August sighed.

"Here," he handed the plastic bag and wine cooler box into my hands. "The ice cream is melting. Better eat it."

He turned to leave.

His body movement had its own pace. The walking, its own stride and style as his shoes echoed in the hallway. Peering into the bag, I saw strawberry and chocolate chip raspberry ice cream. That was the ice cream, I ate when we went ice-skating. I glanced up.

He remembered.

Placing the stuff in the doorway, I ran down the hallway. He already made it to the elevator, in the middle of the apartment building. A ding told me, the elevator made it on our floor. The circular seven lit up among the other floor numbers.

"Wait."

I held out my arm in front of August.

The elevator doors opened. My arm came above his hips, he turned around. The stupid, annoying smile was on his lips. His eyes held laughter.

"Yes."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I groaned, "You can stay."

My heart. It's so adorable.

My gosh. While I was writing this chapter, I was giddy. I was giggling and thinking, "Sugar, you ain't see nothing yet."

Who do you think gave the leaks out to? What do you think of Sugar's reaction to it and August's niceness.

Thank you for your love and support! You make me smile.

I hope you love the chapter! :)