Chapter Fourteen
Lucy tugged the hem of her sundress a little lower until it covered most of her thighs. She wanted to sit cross-legged on the woven blanket laid out on the sand, but Marla had told her moments ago to shift her legs to the side, a more appropriate position for the cameras.
Skye was busy unpacking the picnic basket. She was carefully arranging an assortment of fruit, cheese, and a bottle of wine.
“Alright, folks,” Marla said, her voice chirping over the nearby speaker system.
“We’ll get a few shots of Skye pouring the wine and then I want you to delve right into a deep conversation.
Talk about your family. Or your aspirations.
Talk about your childhood pet and if they died, did their death shape the rest of your life?
Make it heartfelt and make it camera-friendly. ”
Lucy glanced toward the water where the sun hovered low, melting the horizon into gold and rose pink.
She then flicked her gaze to Skye, who was already lifting the wine bottle with the effort of someone trying very hard not to look irritated.
She poured them each a glass and set them down on the wooden board that had been meant for the cheese.
“Hungry?” Skye asked, handing Lucy a small plate. When their fingers brushed, a spark shot right up Lucy’s wrist to her arm.
“A little,” Lucy said, though her stomach was too tight for much. She took the plate, but her eyes stayed on Skye as if looking away might make Skye change her mind about inviting her on the date.
“So,” Skye said, glancing up at her through long eyelashes while the cameras shifted closer. “What exactly is it that you do back home?”
Lucy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the heat creep up her neck. It was an easy question. One she could answer in her sleep. But for some reason, with everyone watching and with the cameras barely out of her view, she felt nervous.
“I’m a columnist for Outlook Magazine,” she said, glancing down at her plate, at the slice of brie Skye had haphazardly cut.
“It’s a lifestyle magazine. But the kind you find in boutique hotel lobbies and not grocery store checkout lines.
I write about design, travel, and culture.
Sometimes food. Basically, whatever will make our readers feel like their lives could be a little more curated. ”
“Do you travel often?”
The answer was no. Lucy could count on one hand the number of times she had left America, and traveling to Hawaii to be on the show was one of them.
“Not as much as I should,” she replied. “My job sounds more glamorous than it is. I spend most of my week hunched over my laptop. But I love it. I started at Outlook right after college as an editorial assistant. You know, making coffee and such. Then I pitched a series about micro-neighborhoods in New York and convinced my editor I had a voice worth paying for. Now I get a monthly column plus the occasional feature.”
Lucy popped a grape into her mouth. “My mom still calls me every time a new piece goes live. She follows all my work online. My dad says he reads everything, but I’ve caught him skimming.
And my younger sister, who is still in high school, thinks it’s the coolest thing ever.
She’s convinced I live in some kind of Sex and the City fantasy. ”
“Do you?”
“Not even close,” Lucy laughed. “My life is more like standing in line at Trader Joe’s with wilted spinach in my cart than Carrie strutting down Fifth Avenue in Manolos.
” She shrugged and reached for a cracker before smoothing soft cheese over its entire surface.
“Most days the wildest thing I do is skip going into the office and take my laptop to a coffee shop with terrible Wi-Fi so that I’ll actually write without anybody interrupting me. ”
Skye’s mouth curved like she wanted to smile but for some reason didn’t.
It made Lucy want to say more and to fill every empty space until she got a real smile out of Skye.
She wanted to see the kind of smile she’d seen yesterday while they were in bed together.
So she kept going. Lucy continued talking about her cramped walk-up apartment, about her neighbor who collected antique radios, and about the deli guy down the street who slipped her extra olives every time she ordered a sub because she once complimented his hair.
She didn’t notice how much she was giving away until she stopped to take a sip of her wine.
It was then that she realized Skye hadn’t said a single thing about herself.
Not where she was from. Not what her own family was like.
Not even what she did before stepping into the spotlight of this show.
She still didn’t know anything about the bachelorette. At least not anything meaningful.
Lucy swirled her wine, and the liquid caught the light in soft red ribbons.
“You’ve let me ramble on for, what, twenty minutes,” she said, trying to keep her tone teasing.
“And you’ve given me nothing back. I feel like I just read you a chapter of my autobiography, and I don’t even know the first sentence of yours. ”
Skye’s lips twitched just a fraction, but she stayed quiet. The only sounds were those of the ocean and Lucy’s breath, which for some reason sounded way too loud.
Lucy’s stomach dipped. “Is that on purpose?” she asked softly.
Skye tilted her head, studying her with that unreadable expression that made Lucy feel both completely seen and completely in the dark.
The cameras edged closer, waiting. Skye opened her mouth to say something, but then Marla’s voice came out of the blue. “You guys are doing great. Just keep talking like we’re not here.”
The moment cracked like thin ice under a boot. Lucy blinked toward the camera crew, suddenly aware of the microphones, the lenses, the fact that every breath she took, every word she said, was being captured from at least three different angles.
Skye leaned back slightly, her gaze breaking from Lucy’s for the first time since she’d handed her a glass of wine. “So,” she said, her voice more strained. “What’s your favorite cheese?”
“Are we really going to talk about cheese?”
“It’s an important question,” Skye said, but her smile was nothing like before. It was forced and annoyed, a feeling Lucy felt all too well after Marla’s untimely interruption. “So, what is it?” she asked, picking up a wedge of chevin. “Brie? Gouda? Something a little stronger like blue cheese?”
Lucy shook her head. “I’m a cheddar girl. Boring, I know.”
“You’re not boring.”
Lucy grinned, feeling way too giddy.
From there, the conversation drifted into more superficial territory: favorite food, travel dreams, type of morning coffee. There was nothing said about Skye’s life, or about her history.
After what felt like ten minutes but was closer to an hour, Marla finally called it. “Alright ladies. You both did amazing. We’ve got what we need, and I’m sure the two of you have gotten to know each other a little better.”
A production assistant was already striding toward them. Her brown eyes were locked on Lucy’s.
Great. She was probably going to be ushered back to the villa. Away from Skye.
But then Skye leaned forward and brushed her hand over Lucy’s knee. “Meet me later,” she said under her breath, her voice so low Lucy barely heard it over the sound of the waves. “Same place on the beach as last time. Midnight.”
Lucy’s heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to answer, but the assistant’s hand landed on her shoulder. Soon enough, she was being steered away.
~~
The villa was loud before Lucy even stepped inside. It wasn’t the usual conversational noise or Priya’s soundtrack that often played from the speakers. It was sharp, loud, two familiar voices bouncing hard off the glass walls.
Lucy slowed when she stepped through the doorway. There, in the middle of the lounge, was Amy. She stood near the coffee table, arms crossed, her chin tilted up in a hostile kind of way. Alexis was on the opposite side, her one hip cocked, a glass of wine dangling between two fingers.
“I’m just saying,” Alexis said, drawing out each word like she was tasting it. “It’s obvious she’s not Skye’s type. We’ve all seen it. The only reason she got this sunset date was because Skye had to choose her. It’s only fair that everyone gets a date. I bet she’ll go out next.”
Amy’s jaw tightened. “You mean you think you’re her type?”
Alexis’s mouth curved. “I mean, it’s a show about finding the right match, isn’t it? And I’m way more of a match for Skye than Lucy. So are you. So is Charlotte.”
“I thought you just said Charlotte’s boring too.”
“Hey!” Charlotte chipped in, rising from the sofa with a frown sitting heavy on her forehead. “I’m not boring.”
Alexis ignored her and took a lazy sip of her wine. “It’s about chemistry, isn’t it?” she said. “Skye and I have chemistry.”
“Who says?”
Alexis smiled in a way that made Lucy’s skin prickle. “Skye says,” she said smugly. “Or at least she did when she kissed me on our solo date yesterday.”
The words landed like a jagged piece of glass in Lucy’s stomach.
For a second, she thought she’d misheard.
Maybe Alexis was just baiting Amy the way she always baited everyone else.
But the way Alexis tilted her head to the side, her eyes half-lidded like she was replaying the moment, it was obvious she wasn’t lying.
“Seriously?” Amy said.
“Yes,” Alexis replied, still grinning smugly.
Priya, who was curled up on the armchair with a throw pillow hugged to her chest, let out a long sigh. “I can’t believe she kissed you and not me. I mean, I brought her that homemade chai. It was an amazing chai.”
Cleo, who was filing her nails at the kitchen counter, didn’t even look up. “Maybe she doesn’t like chai.”
“It doesn’t matter if she likes chai or not.
She kissed me. Clearly, we have a connection.
” Alexis set her wineglass on the coffee table.
Her gaze flicked toward the doorway where Lucy was still standing.
Her eyes widened, just slightly, but then the surprise melted into a sly smirk.
“So, Lucy. Did you manage to get a kiss from Skye on your date?”
Lucy’s mind screamed to tell her the truth, that she’d already had Skye’s lips on hers, and that she’d had Skye’s face between her bare legs.
But she swallowed the truth down for Skye’s sake.
For her own sake, too. What they had done—twice—was their secret.
She didn’t have to watch The Sapphic Match to know that sneaking off to have sex with the bachelorette was probably frowned upon not only by the production team but also by the other contestants.
“No,” she said instead, forcing a soft smile on her face.
Amy stepped forward, shaking her head. “Maybe winning isn’t only about who gets the kiss first, Alexis. Maybe it’s about who’s genuine.”
“Oh, please,” Alexis said, pulling a face. “It’s a reality show, not a Girl Scout jamboree. We’re all here to win.”
Lucy felt a sudden rush of heat flush her cheeks.
It was true. They were all there to compete and to win.
But still, she hadn’t even considered Skye kissing any of the other contestants despite knowing it was the entire premise of the show.
Somehow, she’d let herself believe she’d been the only one to get that kind of closeness with Skye.
Which was embarrassing.
“I’m going to grab some fresh air,” she said quickly.
Without waiting for a reply, Lucy turned and darted out onto the path away from the villa. She wanted to get away from Alexis, whose lips had touched Skye’s.