The next day, Whitney meets A-holette to chew the fat. And by "chew the fat," I clearly don't mean actual fat, because this is A-holette we're talking about. She does not do ingestion. A-holette talks briefly about her hardships looking for an apartment but wastes little time breaking it to Whitney that Dani has reared her ugly head. OMG, this is totally A-holette's moment to throw Whitney's earlier upper hand back in her face. A-holette is deriving scads of pleasure from this beneath her tracing paper-thin skin. If you poked her face with, say, a spork, I swear bubbles of giddy would escape as if from an overshaken can of soda. That is how much she is loving this. She is a miserable person, you see, and she must subsist on something besides food.
Given this little piece of gossip, Whitney puts the pieces together as to why Jay was so useless on the intended-to-be-romantic date. She talks around what she can safely assume is the truth without actually admitting it to herself. Then fake-wipes away a single tear after saying she's "so over this"... but doesn't actually resolve to break up with that Aussie fucker. Come on, Whitney! Pull the trigger already. Side note: Is it bad that I care more about the out-of-focus red velvet cake than about Whitney? Because only one part of my face is welling up, and it sure as Hell ain't my eyes.
Next week: Jay seems to go unscathed re: Dani, but his total lack of honesty and openness in another area (his bullshit band's fake tour) finally hits the fan, and it's make or break time for the least compelling reality showmance since The Littlest Groom.