Chapter Eleven
Skye had never been more aware of her own arms, or where to put them. She concentrated on not fidgeting with the rolled cuff of her silk shirt. How could she look casual, despite the fact that she could still taste Lucy on her tongue, and she could still smell her sweet, salty oceanic scent?
It had been nearly two hours since she’d kicked Lucy out of her room. It had been two hours since she’d scrubbed Lucy’s smell and her touch off her body. And now, Skye was sitting at the far end of the long, elegantly lit dining table set up by the water.
It was the group date, and the area was flanked by tiki torches and manned by servers in crisp white shirts and cream-colored dress pants.
Amy sat to her right. She was mid-monologue about the benefits of kombucha.
Skye nodded along with vague interest, barely listening.
Across from the table was Cleo, who kept leaning over the table to add a few flirtatious comments.
Every time she said anything, she made a point of showing off her cleavage.
Her very lovely, very in-your-face cleavage.
Beside Cleo was Tyler, and beside her was Nova.
The two seemed to be in a very deep conversation.
And then, adjacent to Skye, three seats down, was Lucy. Their eyes hadn’t met. Not even once. Which, to be fair, was all Skye’s doing. She was actively avoiding Lucy. In fact, she was keeping as far away from her as possible.
She had to. Because what had happened on that beach and then in her bungalow had surely been a lapse in judgment. It had been a detour into something impulsive and incredibly stupid.
Skye knew better. She understood better than anyone how quickly lines could blur on a show like this. Of all people, she knew how personal feelings could spiral into production nightmares. What she had done wasn’t only reckless; it was a ticking time bomb that could jeopardize the entire season.
She took a long sip of her wine and savored the heat flowing down her throat.
“Did you hear what I said?” Amy asked, leaning toward her. Her voice was sunny and a little breathless.
Skye blinked. “Sorry, no. What?”
Amy picked up her wineglass and twirled the contents. “I once tried making my own kombucha in college.”
“Tried?” Skye asked, turning toward Amy more fully.
She had to get out of her head, and the only way to do that was to concentrate fully on Amy.
This wasn’t that hard to begin with. The woman was beautiful in a cute sorority kind of way.
Blonde hair. Pink lips and soft shoulders.
She should be an easy distraction… if only Skye would let herself get distracted. “What do you mean by tried?”
Amy smiled sheepishly. “It exploded,” she said. “I used an old pickle jar, and apparently, you’re supposed to ‘burp’ it.”
“Burp it?” Skye asked, frowning.
“Open the lid every few days to let the gas out,” Amy replied. She flicked a hand in the air. “Anyway, long story short, the kombucha blew up, which was such a disaster. There was even glass in the toaster. It kind of became a joke in our dorm room known as the great Kombucha fuck-up.”
Skye let out a laugh, surprising even herself. “Really?”
“Yes,” Amy said, looking pleased with herself. “My old roommate still talks about it to this day. Apparently, the smell never fully came out of the carpet. The two students after us ended up petitioning housing for a different dorm room.”
Skye winced but kept smiling. “That’s kind of disgusting. But hilarious.”
The story was funny, and Amy was funny. She was also easy to talk to in a way that didn’t make Skye feel like she was being studied or chased.
She’d definitely get a lei tonight at the lei ceremony.
Skye might even choose her first. It would be a low stake move.
Skye knew from experience that the contestants often thought too deeply about the order of the ceremony.
It was as if they thought that whoever was picked first was the bachelorette’s favorite, just like they assumed whoever had been picked last would be voted off next round.
Amy was neither her favorite nor her least favorite.
Amy leaned closer. “Okay, but serious question… are you more of a mushroom tea kind of person or a fire cider person?”
“Is neither an option?” Skye asked.
Amy gasped. “You wound me.” She then nudged Skye with her shoulder and laughed. “But don’t worry, you’re forgiven.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Skye replied, smiling stiffly.
Down the table from her, Lucy looked at her. Or at least it felt that way. It wasn’t like Skye was actively looking at Lucy. It was more of a feeling, like heat on the side of her face from a flame. Or maybe Skye just wanted her to watch her every move. Maybe she wasn’t watching her at all.
Not that it mattered.
Skye had to keep her focus on Amy and smile like her life depended on it.
Which it kind of did. Or at least that salary increase.
If she didn’t look interested, or at least pretend to be interested, then the other contestants, or even Marla, might start asking questions and the entire thing would be a mess.
No one could know that she had slept with Lucy.
NO ONE!
“So, did you ever try brewing kombucha again? Or was that a onetime explosion kind of thing?” Skye said quickly.
Amy laughed. “Oh no,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve been banned from all fermentation-related activities ever since. Which, honestly, is a little sad. I’ve always wanted to make a sourdough starter.”
Perfect. Skye nodded as if she were genuinely interested.
Fermentation. Sourdough. All safe topics.
This was where her attention needed to stay.
This was where her focus should be. Not three seats down.
Not at the girl who had walked topless across the beach to her side, who had unashamedly flirted with her.
Her attention certainly should not be on the woman who had followed Skye to her bungalow.
But then the thought of Lucy naked, her breasts all perky and lovely, and she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t help but look Lucy’s way.
It just happened, like her body turned traitor for half a second.
A blink. A breath. It was long enough to catch Lucy laughing at something Priya said.
Her head tipped back, and her neck caught the glow of the torches.
She looked gorgeous. Skye felt a heat in her stomach radiate all the way down to her hips.
Which was why she tore her gaze away so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash.
No. No, no, no. That wasn’t the plan. Sleeping with Lucy was a mistake, and now she was correcting it. She turned back to bright and funny Amy and gave a smile so practiced it almost felt embarrassing.
“Maybe it’s best you stay out of the kitchen,” she said, hoping Amy hadn’t noticed how utterly distracted she was. “At least while you’re here in the villa. We don’t want any accidents.”
Amy opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the overhead lights shifted, and Marla’s voice rang out from behind the camera setup.
“Okay, ladies. That’s a wrap on dinner. Thank you all for being your wonderful selves. If you all could please move to the fire pit for the lei ceremony. We’ll be starting in ten.” Marla gave Skye a pointed look. “Skye, you’re with me.”
“Catch you over there?” Amy asked, scraping her chair back.
“Absolutely,” Skye replied, nodding.
Amy walked off, and Skye lingered in her seat a second longer.
Her smile fell the second the woman’s back was turned.
Skye took a deep breath. It was time to place flowers around the necks of eleven contestants and say goodbye to one.
In her opinion, it was the worst part of the show.
Someone always cried. Usually, Skye was the one running after the contestant who had been voted out with a tissue box in hand, but tonight, she was doing the voting and that sucked.
Her chest ached. Her stomach was all knotted, and it had nothing to do with Lucy pushing back her chair with her eyes on Priya as the two continued their conversation.
Skye followed Marla past the camera crew and production assistants toward the fire pit clearing where the lei ceremony would take place.
It looked magical. Torches flickered around the clearing, and flower petals had been scattered deliberately across the sand.
A tray of woven leis sat ready on a tall, round table.
Earlier, before dinner, they’d already shot the thinking portion of the evening, which was basically just close-ups of Skye pacing the sand with her arms crossed, pretending to be deep in emotional turmoil as she considered her connections with the contestants.
In reality, Skye had been doing everything she possibly could to get Lucy out of her mind.
“You good?” Marla asked under her breath as they approached the setup.
Skye gave the blandest smile she could muster. “Dandy,” she said, sounding way more sarcastic than she had intended.
“Try to be a little more random with the choosing,” Marla added, still whispering. “We want to keep the viewers guessing what’s going on in your head.”
“Nothing’s going on in my head.”
Marla raised an eyebrow like she didn’t believe her.
“Seriously,” Skye added, hoping to convince her, though she knew she was making it worse. Lucy was in her head. She was taking up all the space. “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just…” she paused because her thoughts were suddenly muddled and sticky in her throat.
Marla tilted her head as her voice dropped even lower. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“How is this whole thing even going to work?” Skye asked, glancing around at the twelve lovely ladies all dressed up. They were all waiting with too-bright eyes.
“What do you mean?”