The first rule of Star Factory is that every contestant has a hashtag.
The second? Don’t read the tweets.
The judges love me. The rest of America?
Not so much.
But they can’t get enough of Jay freaking Silver.
I can’t stand his arrogant smirk, or the tattoo peeking from under his shirt.
I guess the TV network agrees. So they give us an ultimatum:
Go out together … Or go home alone.
I’m everything Aria’s not.
Raw, when she’s refined.
A screw up, when she’s Lil’ Miss Perfect.
After six months behind bars, this show’s my last shot.
A chance to be the bad boy made good.
But this ain’t just a talent show.
The producers want a story, and they’ll stop at nothing to get it.
They put us together, now they’re tearing us apart.
I want this more than anything.
But I need Aria.
And I don’t know which to choose.
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