Chapter Six
It was nine a.m. the morning after the first impression ceremony, and the sand was already too hot to stand on for more than ten seconds.
Lucy regretted her choice of no shoes and no SPF, especially considering the activity of the day involved sprinting across a makeshift beach volleyball court like a bunch of golden retrievers chasing a tennis ball.
She would much rather have slept in since she’d gotten very little sleep last night.
Mainly because her mind had the audacity to replay the event over and over again.
Skye calling her name. Skye setting the lei on her shoulders.
Skye smiling in a way that absolutely should not have made her heart race the way it did.
Not once had she considered that something as silly as a first impression lei could affect her so much.
Not once had she thought she’d be so invested in the show after only a few hours of being there.
But apparently, all it took was a garland of flowers and the bachelorette’s crooked smile to make her weak at the knees.
And now, almost twelve hours later, Lucy was trying not to read into things.
Or look too obviously in Skye’s direction.
Which, frankly, was difficult because Skye had just stepped onto the sand looking like she regretted the decision to even take part in this nonsense.
She was squinting behind oversized sunglasses and holding a bottle of water in her hands like it was an emotional support item.
Her hair was up in a messy bun, tufts of red streaking over her ears, and her outfit made up of loose linen shorts and an oversized button-up shirt looked neither appropriate for the activity nor remotely enthusiastic about being televised.
It was both hilarious and weirdly endearing.
Skye Wilder, bachelorette, apparently hated everything about beach sports.
Was it the heat? The sand? The fact that they were about to get hot and sweaty?
Or was it the prospect of being filmed while doing something uncomfortable that had her looking like she despised the very air she was breathing?
Lucy smiled despite herself. She wasn’t sure if she’d be finding Skye so incredibly adorable if she hadn’t bumped into her coming out of the bathroom last night and seen the tiniest bit of vulnerability behind that somewhat cool facade.
A facade that the title of bachelorette gave her automatically.
She also wasn’t sure if she’d be feeling this way if Skye were simply another redhead, a woman she’d met out in New York instead of someone who was up on The Sapphic Match pedestal.
Would she have noticed her out in a club in Manhattan?
Would she have given her a second glance?
Probably. That red hair was difficult to ignore.
But still, there was something about her that screamed, ‘Don’t look at me.
Whatever you do, just don’t look at me.’
Lucy wondered if the other contestants had noticed.
“Alright, ladies,” a woman shouted out loud.
Lucy turned to see the executive producer, Marla, trudge her way across the sand onto the court.
“Here’s the plan for the next ninety minutes,” she said.
“We’re filming wide shots of everyone playing beach volleyball.
It doesn’t matter who wins. We just need energy, fun, laughter, and possibly a few cute saves if someone can do that. No injuries, please.”
She then gestured toward the shaded tent where camera operators were setting up gear. “We’ll be cutting in shots of Skye standing on the sidelines.”
Lucy couldn’t help but glance once more toward Skye, where she stood awkwardly beneath a parasol one of the PAs had shoved into the sand.
“You’d think she was about to melt,” Amy chirped softly beside her. “You’d think she was a vampire. She looks completely miserable in the sun.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to get a sunburn,” Lucy replied, sipping from the branded coconut water that tasted vaguely like sunscreen. Somehow, Skye’s alabaster skin had become even paler since last night.
Amy shook her head. “It’s inevitable. She’ll need at least two tubes of SPF 50 to get through the morning.”
Lucy bit back a grin. She wasn’t going to say it, but Amy wasn’t wrong. With hair that red, Skye probably got sunburned just stepping outside to get into her car.
“Simply be yourselves,” Marla added, her voice loud and clear, which Lucy had learned was production speak for be the version of yourself we can sell in a three-minute montage.
“And remember,” she went on, “Skye will be picking one of you for a one-on-one lunch at the end of this activity. That means she’ll be watching.
” She gave a quick glance in Skye’s direction.
Lucy swore she saw the woman cringe, but she could’ve been imagining it since the sun was sharp.
“So, if you want her attention, this is the time.”
Lucy’s stomach did a little flip. Not a full somersault, but enough of a flutter to make her take another sip of the coconut water.
She already had Skye’s attention. Or at least she’d had it last night.
Briefly. Just long enough for the lei to touch her shoulders.
Still, knowing Skye was watching and not participating, like she was some judge—which, technically, she was—added a buzz to the air.
Lucy shaded her eyes with one hand and squinted toward the lineup of girls warming up. Alexis was doing deep lunges just off the court while Nova, whose legs were tall and thin, barely even leaving room for a waist, was doing star jumps.
Lucy didn’t join in, not in the warm-up and not in the first game either.
Instead, she lingered at the edge of the court, her toes digging into the warm, uneven sand as the game started.
Twice, she’d nearly wandered over to say hi to Skye.
Once was under the guise of borrowing sunscreen and again to make some comment about the coconut water they were forced to drink.
But each time she stopped herself. It felt too obvious, like she was one of those girls desperate for attention.
Instead, she kept her focus on the game.
Amy was teamed up with Alexis and Nova with Cleo.
They were all taking it way too seriously.
Amy had sand on her knees and kept yelling ‘mine’ even when it clearly wasn’t.
Alexis was surprisingly agile. She lunged for a low save that sent her sunglasses flying.
Nova and Cleo played with surprising coordination despite barely knowing each other.
“I’ll take it!” Amy shouted, picking up the ball that had hit the net and dropped to the sand. She walked behind the end line and served. The ball barely sailed over the net and veered sharply to the side.
Cleo lunged to save it, but her foot caught awkwardly in the sand. She stumbled, twisting her ankle, and let out a sharp wince as she collapsed onto one knee.
Nova was immediately at her side, looking gravely concerned. But the only one Lucy was concerned about was Skye. She was feeling a little insecure after last night’s ceremony and the fact that Skye hadn’t looked her way even once since.
She watched as Skye shifted under her parasol.
Her sunglasses remained stuck on her face, which was a shame since Lucy wanted to see her eyes again.
They were green, like a lush meadow. She hadn’t exactly stared into her eyes, but if she did, she was sure she’d see a thin rim of brown around the pupil.
“Alright Red Team, you’re down one, we need a sub!” someone called.
Lucy looked up at a man in khaki shorts waving her over.
Great. Apparently, she was on the red team.
Lucy hesitated, feeling the heat of the sun and a flush of nerves. She’d never played beach volleyball before. She was fairly coordinated, but the thought of embarrassing herself in front of Skye, and in front of millions of viewers, brought a lump to her throat.
Before she could make up her mind, Alexis tossed the ball toward her. “Serve,” she said sharply. Way too sharply, which probably meant that she was still keeping a grudge from yesterday. “Now.”
Lucy caught the ball awkwardly, took a deep breath, and stepped behind the end line. It was now or never. If she could impress Skye yesterday, surely she could impress her now.
She tossed the ball up and swung hard. Unfortunately, her palm slapped against it at a crooked angle, sending the ball veering sharply to the right.
It went nowhere near the net. Instead, it rocketed sideways, arcing fast and high across the court before it crashed directly into the side of Skye’s face with a loud, unmistakable thwack.
Gasps erupted from the court.
Lucy froze, her arm still mid-swing. “Oh, fuck,” she breathed. Horror spread outward from her chest like heat. Then, without thinking, she was running.
“I’m so sorry,” she stammered when she reached Skye. “I didn’t mean to.”
Skye was now sitting on the sand as if the hit had taken the wind right out of her. Which it probably had. Lucy was surprised there wasn’t any blood considering how loud the blow had sounded. But she was also grateful. The last thing she wanted was to incapacitate the bachelorette.
“It’s fine,” Skye said, rubbing at her jaw. “I know you didn’t mean to.”
“I really didn’t.” Lucy dropped to a crouch beside her.
Her hands hovered close to Skye’s knees, like she wasn’t sure if she should offer help or evaporate into the sand.
“I’m so very sorry,” she said again. “I’ve literally never served a volleyball in my life.
They make it look so easy, but it’s not.
It’s clearly not. I swear I was aiming for the net and not your face. ”
“I believe you,” Skye said. She opened her mouth, wiggled her jaw from side to side, and then smiled. “Nothing’s broken. But it does feel like you’re trying to get back at me for last night.”
“I promise I’m not,” Lucy said, laughing in relief. “This is completely unrelated. Besides, that volleyball should’ve come with a warning. I swear it’s def—”
“Are you alright?” came Marla’s voice from behind, interrupting Lucy.
She turned back to see the executive producer jog over, her headset bouncing. Marla stopped beside them, hands on her wide hips as she glanced down at Skye. “Because that was hard to watch.”
“I’m fine,” Skye said, half-smiling. Though Lucy could tell it was somewhat forced. A hit like that had to hurt. “It was just an accident.”
Marla gave a small nod and then turned toward the rest of the beach where the other contestants were still scattered on the sand.
“Alright, ladies,” she called out. “We’re cutting the game here.
We’ll do the one-on-one date announcement, and then you girls can head back to the cabana to hydrate and touch up if you need to. ”
Lucy straightened and brushed the sand off her knees. She was about to stick out her hand to help Skye up, but the woman was already pushing to her feet.
Great. First she had knocked her down, and now she couldn’t even help her up. The morning was off to a great start. Brilliant, Luce, just brilliant. Whatever chance she’d had at the one-on-one date with Skye had just gone out the window.
Marla nudged her head toward the group. “Why don’t you go join the others.”
Lucy nodded, feeling like a child sent to their room. But she obeyed and quickly jogged over to the others before she did something else to embarrass herself.
“Really romantic,” Amy said when Lucy joined her at the edge of the court. The blonde looked like she was holding back a laugh. “If you’re not making an impression, I don’t know who can.”
“Shut up,” Lucy muttered, cheeks burning.
Behind her, Alexis leaned in. “Well,” she muttered, her breath warm against Lucy’s cheek. “She’s obviously going to pick you now. Kind of hard to top being smacked in the face by a ball you served. That’s like The Sapphic Match 101. You probably did it on purpose.”
Lucy’s ears suddenly felt much too hot for her head, and together with her burning cheeks, she was quite sure her face had gone red. Probably even red enough for the cameras to notice.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” she mumbled without glancing back. She didn’t want to give Alexis the satisfaction of a reaction. She didn’t want to tempt herself. One look at Alexis and Lucy would no doubt be ready to smack the smug annoyance off her face.
“If you say so,” Alexis said, her voice bitter.
Marla stepped back behind a camera and lifted a hand, signaling the countdown. “Okay, everyone. We’re rolling.”
Skye moved to stand in front of the group with her hands clasped in front of her. The sun shone brightly on her face as she looked over the semicircle of expectant faces.
Lucy held her breath. She had no idea why she was suddenly so nervous.
Just yesterday morning she’d sworn she wouldn’t take any of this seriously.
She’d promised herself it was only a game and to have fun with it.
Her life in New York was so scheduled, so carefully constructed around deadlines and edits and back-to-back interviews for her lifestyle column.
Fun wasn’t exactly built into her routine.
Which was why it was imperative for her to let go, let loose.
Besides, the show was a little ridiculous, wasn’t it?
The constant cameras, the carefully planned moments pretending to be spontaneous.
Lucy had promised herself she wouldn’t care.
She had promised herself she’d enjoy the little moments and wouldn’t get hung up on anything.
Especially the bachelorette, who had eleven other contestants to choose from, so why would she choose her?
And yet, here she was, standing a little too straight, with her stomach a bundle of nerves.
“And the woman I’ll be choosing…” Skye paused, gave the smallest, unreadable smile while the tension around the semi-circle of women doubled. “Is… Nova.”
Nova gave a little shriek and stepped forward. She brushed sand off her thighs as the others applauded. Lucy clapped too, but her hands felt heavy, not quite like her own.
This was fine. Totally fine. Except it wasn’t. Because somehow, this didn’t feel that fun anymore.
Behind her, Alexis let out a smug little breath that might have been a laugh. Lucy didn’t turn around. She simply continued clapping.