Chapter 23
Declan
One Week Until Finale
Neil Steel: Awkward conversations abounded in the villa last week.
Let’s take a look…
Eavie Laurent: ‘You’re in love with Maeve.’
Oliver Wright: ‘I’m completely falling apart.’
Neil Steel: Uh-oh!
We know Oliver doesn’t handle rejection well.
Oliver Wright: ‘I won’t do this.
I’m leaving the villa tonight.’
‘So, should we keep going, or…’ Elliot asked, as they watched Oliver storm off.
‘No,’ Declan said, heading to the kitchen.
Jack followed him. ‘What the hell was that?’
Declan shrugged, opening the fridge and letting the cool air wash over him.
He leaned his head against the metal and squeezed his eyes shut.
All week, he’d been rehashing the fight, watching Oliver look miserable and knowing it was his fault.
He’d thought putting all his feelings out there could fix it.
‘You okay?’ Maeve asked.
Declan wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there.
He didn’t have the energy to plaster on a smile.
‘I—’
‘What’s happening?’
Imogen cut in. Her tone made Declan turn to see a cameraman jogging into the villa, a haggard- looking Brian trailing behind.
Without a word, the four of them followed.
It was Oliver, racing around the bedroom, throwing his things into a suitcase.
As bad as Declan had felt before, it was nothing compared to now.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked, not keeping the panic out of his voice.
‘I’m leaving,’ Oliver said.
Declan’s stomach dropped.
‘No, you can’t.’ The words were out before he could stop them.
Maeve took a step forwards, shaking her head.
‘Come on, I’m sure we can talk it out,’ she said calmly.
‘I can’t take it any more,’ Oliver said, pacing around the room and running a hand through his already messy hair.
‘Where’s my other shoe?’
He rummaged through his suitcase.
‘Oliver,’ Declan tried, but he got no response.
He hated the way his voice sounded, hoarse and weak.
This couldn’t be happening.
Oliver couldn’t leave.
‘What’s going on?’ Holly and Eavie came in.
‘Oliver’s leaving,’ Imogen said, folding her arms tightly and blinking rapidly as though to hold back tears.
‘Come on, mate,’ Jack said, walking over to clap Oliver on the back.
‘Don’t be silly. We’re nearly there, just a week more.’
Oliver shrugged his hand off.
‘I can’t stay,’ he said, without any discernible emotion.
Jack didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.
None of them did. Oliver wasn’t giving them any hope to cling to.
He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t throwing a fit, this wasn’t for the cameras.
It was just over. He was finished, and that was it.
They stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say, before Maeve threw her arms around Oliver.
‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said.
‘Me too,’ Oliver said, holding her as she cried into his shoulder.
‘Great, now I’m crying,’ Jack said, throwing his arms around them.
‘Ollie boy, you were the best of us.’
Declan frantically searched for words that could make Oliver see reason, could make him stay.
His speech had only made things worse.
Oliver deserved more than disguised apologies; he deserved the truth.
‘Oliver,’ he said again, voice low.
No one around him seemed to hear, but Oliver raised his head and their eyes finally met.
The air rushed out of his lungs, words dying on his tongue.
He wanted to reach out, to touch Oliver one last time.
But the glare of the camera lens kept him fixed to the spot.
Declan slipped out of bed the next morning as the sun peeked out over the horizon.
He dove into the pool, driving his body forwards, feeling his muscles strain to their limit and pushing past even that.
He swam until he couldn’t any more, his wrist throbbing as he grabbed the side of the pool and gulped air into his shaking body.
He wanted to punch something, to tear his hair out, to make this hurt something he could isolate.
He let himself sink to the bottom of the pool, feeling the bubbles float up around him.
Lying flat along the cool tile, he stared at the water above him, the chlorine pricking his eyes.
All he could see was blue, endless blue.
Declan felt crushed by it.
He closed his eyes, but the pressure stayed.
It pressed on his lungs that were beginning to burn for want of air, but he couldn’t move.
His heartbeat rushed in his ears and his thoughts went fuzzy around the edges.
Oliver was gone and it was his own fault.
He opened his eyes again and noticed a shadow peeking out from the side of the pool.
For a moment, his oxygen-starved brain thought it was Oliver, bringing him his morning cup of tea like he’d done so many times before.
It wasn’t Oliver, of course, but Imogen.
He surfaced, gasping for breath and taking in her sympathetic expression.
‘We’re heading out in a few minutes.’
He was grateful that she didn’t ask him if he was okay.
But, he supposed, if you found your fake boyfriend sitting at the bottom of a pool, moping over another man, it would be correct to assume that no, he wasn’t okay.
He nodded and pulled himself onto the deck, taking the towel Imogen offered him.
It was the last Saturday before the finale, the final day off to relax before the hardest week of all.
They were going back to the beach, and Declan was pointedly ignoring the irony.
He threw on a shirt before heading out.
When they got there, the brisk ocean breeze swept over his face, catching his hair.
The others raced to the water, jumping in with shouts of laughter, but he walked down the beach, ditching his shoes, his feet sinking into the sand.
He sat, watching the waves crash.
He couldn’t be sure how long he stayed there, his thoughts circling nebulously.
Someone sat next to him.
He figured it was Imogen, coming to tell him he should go for a swim.
But it was Maeve.
‘Hi,’ she said, when he glanced over at her.
‘Hi,’ he replied, his voice rough with disuse.
It was the first thing he’d said all morning.
‘It’s weird without him here, huh?’
Declan sighed. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t know what he could even say.
‘I was going to talk about you with Oliver today,’ she said, looking at the ocean.
Declan turned to her, but she stared steadfastly at the waves.
‘What?’ he asked finally.
‘I could tell he was upset about something – about you – but he wouldn’t say anything in front of the cameras.
I was hoping to catch him alone.’
Maeve squinted at him.
There was something cold in her tone, and it registered that she wasn’t trying to comfort him, she was upset with him.
‘Oh,’ Declan said, feigning ignorance.
Maeve shook her head emphatically.
‘Don’t do that!’ she said, her nostrils flaring.
‘Tell me the truth. For once in your life, stop acting the fool.’
And Declan felt so tired.
He was tired of keeping secrets, tired of pretending.
He was tired of holding all of himself in and keeping everything he wanted wrapped up so tightly that he might burst.
‘He and I, we weren’t—’ Declan didn’t know how to start.
‘I kissed him.’ He was overcome by a sense of weightlessness, the burden finally lifting.
He watched as Maeve’s anger froze on her face.
‘What?’
‘I kissed him,’ he said again, more firmly.
‘And I fucked it up.’
Maeve’s eyebrows shot up, the line of her mouth softening, and then, surprisingly, she laughed.
‘Shit,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘I thought that might be it.’
It was Declan’s turn to look surprised.
‘You knew?’
‘I suspected,’ Maeve admitted.
‘Male rituals are so weird, I couldn’t be sure.’
Declan let out a long breath.
‘You weren’t obvious,’ she reassured him.
‘I was only trying to look out for Oliver. Jack definitely doesn’t know, the dolt.’
She said it with such affection that Declan’s chest ached.
‘So, let’s have it, what happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ Declan said.
Maeve gave him a stern look.
‘Yes, you do.’
‘I fucked it up,’ Declan said again.
‘How?’
Declan squeezed his eyes shut.
His head throbbed, the ache in his chest becoming almost unbearable.
He couldn’t breathe.
‘I backed out as soon as it got real.’
Her eyebrows drew together.
‘Why would you do that?’
‘Because it would never have worked. I’m Declan King.
I don’t get to just do whatever I want.
I train, I fight, I win.’
The words tasted bitter in his mouth.
‘There’s no room left for anything else.’
‘Sure there is,’ Maeve said.
Declan looked down. ‘There’s a reason I was never out before this,’ he said.
‘They can have every other part of me if they want, but not this.’
A small frown played at Maeve’s lips.
‘So you gave up Oliver because you didn’t want people to find out you’re gay?’
she asked. ‘Are you just never going to date anyone ?’
‘I wasn’t planning on it.’
Her frown deepened, and he continued, ‘It’s – everyone loves me for what I do .
My entire life, it’s been about being the best, winning.’
His life had stopped feeling like his own a long time ago, when his father and brother had become the priority.
‘I don’t think I can be vulnerable with someone in that way.
Sometimes I think if I let myself be, they would see there’s nothing there.’
Maeve looked at him, her mouth slightly agape.
‘Are you serious? Declan, why would you ever think that?’
Declan stared out into the blue of the ocean, feeling his cheeks flush.
Maeve had steered their conversation to a place Declan never ventured.
His eyes pricked and he swallowed hard.
‘I, um—’ He let out a shaky breath.
‘I’m not built for it.
Other people, they’ve got this love built in that they’re waiting to give to someone and I – I don’t.’
Maeve looked livid.
‘I’ve seen you with Oliver and trust me, you’re fucking built for it.
You’re the one who looks after all of us – the first person to make a cup of tea, to offer advice and keep us going.
We’d all have gone mad in here without you.
I mean, hell, Jack and I probably wouldn’t even be together if not for your meddling.’
Declan didn’t know what to do with Maeve’s words.
Was that honestly how she saw him?
Didn’t she know all he was good for was a fight?
‘There are too many things that could go wrong,’ he said finally.
‘It would’ve been too hard.’
Maeve scoffed. ‘Relationships are hard.’ She pointed to Jack, who was running into an oncoming wave.
‘He’s a teacher and I travel the world for half of the year, but we’re both willing to make it work.
We’ve got to try.’
Declan followed her gaze over to Jack.
He was grinning at Holly, the sun glinting off his shoulders as he swam.
He said something that made Holly throw her head back in laughter.
Declan thought back to when they’d all swum together in that exact spot.
He remembered it like it had happened to someone else; he had walked out of the surf and sat next to Oliver and he had changed completely.
He’d let Oliver go because he was too scared to keep him.
Now he was terrified that he was going to feel like this forever, the tightness in his chest turning chronic, walking around with a crucial piece of himself missing.
He thought about going home after this was all over; he thought about stepping back into his dad’s gym.
He thought about training; he thought about hitting the bag, over and over and over again.
His body going through the motions, his eyes blank.
He thought about getting hit; he thought about eating mat; he thought about tasting blood.
He did taste blood, the soft skin inside his cheek splitting under clenched teeth.
He couldn’t say the words; if he did he’d be done for.
‘I love him,’ Declan said, barely above a whisper.
He wasn’t sure if Maeve even heard him over the sound of the waves crashing around them.
Instead, louder, he said, ‘It’s too late.
He’s already gone.’
For the next week, Declan woke up early.
He swam laps. He lifted weights.
He laughed with the other contestants.
He flirted with Imogen.
He answered all of Paige’s interview questions.
He played the game. He was charming and he was funny.
He was everything that Declan King was known to be.
He no longer felt like Declan King.
He sat on the couch swing with Jack and Holly, listening to them talk and idly watching a small blue bird hopping across the deck, inching its way closer to the kitchen.
‘I’m just not sure,’ Holly was saying.
The bird made it to the side of the counter, where Maeve and Imogen were sharing a bag of crisps.
‘He seems like a nice enough bloke,’ Jack said.
Imogen dropped a crisp and the bird descended on it, pecking at it before grabbing a piece and flying to a safe spot a few feet away to consume the stolen meal.
‘Decs, what do you think?’ Holly asked.
Declan startled at the sound of his name.
‘Er, what?’
Jack frowned.
‘Holly is trying to decide if she fancies Liam,’ he explained, in a tone that made Declan feel like one of his secondary students.
‘Oh, right,’ Declan said, looking over at the two contestants who had arrived that morning.
It was a pointless conversation – there was no way for Holly to win, with Liam coming in too late to make any impact on the audience.
And if it was love she was looking for, Declan certainly couldn’t help her.
‘Well, how does he make you feel about yourself?’ he asked.
‘Does he make you laugh?’
Holly blinked at him, then threw her head in her hands.
‘I don’t know,’ she wailed.
‘I didn’t expect it to be this hard!’
‘Come on, Holls,’ Jack said, putting an arm around her and shooting Declan an annoyed look.
‘It’s gonna be okay.’
‘I don’t know what I’m even doing here; I sure as shit haven’t found love,’ Holly said despondently.
‘Owen was the closest I came, and he’s gone!’
‘Hey,’ Declan said, scooting towards her and grabbing her hand.
‘You’ve been braver than the lot of us, putting yourself out there again and again.
And don’t say you didn’t find love here, because you have.
I love you.’
‘Me too,’ Jack agreed.
Holly shot them both a watery smile, straightening.
‘You’re right. I suppose it doesn’t matter who I pick.
I’ve got you lot, and that’s all the winnings I need.’
‘Great stuff, you three,’ Brian said.
Jack hid his laugh with a coughing fit as Holly slapped their knees and got up to find Liam.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Declan resumed watching his new bird friend feast on a fallen grape.
Jack sighed happily next to him.
‘It’s pretty incredible, huh?’
Declan glanced sideways and noticed he was looking at Maeve and Imogen.
‘Oh,’ Declan said, watching the two girls laugh.
‘Yeah.’
‘I never thought I’d meet someone like her,’ Jack said, and he looked almost sombre.
He glanced back at Declan, his eyes wistful.
‘I mean, all of you. I feel so lucky to have met you, Declan.’
He didn’t know what to say to that.
‘Declan!’ Paige called from the corner of the patio, and Declan shrugged apologetically at Jack before heading over.
‘Yeah?’ he asked, casting a glance at the monitor where she’d been watching them.
A miniature Jack waved at him.
‘We were hoping you could have a chat with James,’ she said, her eyes not meeting his.
‘Why?’ Declan asked, more confused than angry.
‘We thought it would be nice to have some closure between you two.’ She still wasn’t looking at Declan, turning her attention back to the monitor.
It made Declan want to scream, but instead he nodded.
‘Where is he?’
‘In the bedroom.’
‘Great,’ Declan said tersely.
‘Thank you.’
He walked into the villa with no clue of what to say to James.
He found him and Zoe lounging on their bed, neither looking up as he walked in.
James pushed a strand of Zoe’s hair behind her ear as she giggled at something he’d said.
He leaned in and kissed her softly.
It was surprising to see them like this – almost sweet.
Declan cleared his throat awkwardly, and Zoe sprang away as James turned to glare at Declan.
‘Hi,’ Zoe said. She glanced between them, her cheeks flushing.
Declan supposed she was expecting another fight, but he didn’t have it in him any more.
‘What do you want?’ James asked snidely.
Zoe shot him a warning look, which he ignored.
Declan would have rather been anywhere else.
‘Could we chat?’
‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’
Zoe asked, confused.
‘I promise not to punch him,’ Declan deadpanned.
Zoe cracked a small smile, but James crossed his arms.
‘I’d like to see you try.’
‘Are you coming or not?’ He headed upstairs, not waiting to see if James was following.
‘What did you want?’ James asked, as they stepped out onto the balcony.
‘I wanted to apologise,’ Declan said, and was surprised by the honesty in that statement.
Looking at James now, he only felt sorry for him.
‘For what?’ James asked suspiciously.
‘For all of it,’ Declan said.
‘I’m sorry for punching you, I’m sorry for making your time here harder, and I’m sorry for what happened with Georgia.’
James looked like he wanted to hit him.
‘And what exactly happened with Georgia?’
Declan snorted.
‘You’re an idiot.’ James took a step towards him, but Declan held up a hand.
‘Nothing happened.’
James scoffed.
‘Why should I believe you? I saw you two together; I know how close you were. You tried to make a fool out of me.’
Declan shook his head.
‘You did that yourself. Why would I lie to you now?’
‘To mess with my head before the finale,’ James said testily.
‘I know how much you like to win, King.’
Declan tried to figure out how to convince him, and settled for the truth, or at least part of it.
‘It was for publicity,’ he said simply.
‘I had lost my last three fights and people were saying I’d lost my touch, that my career was stalling.
Georgia thought we could distract everyone by giving them something more interesting to talk about.
It was all a big joke, but she never meant for it to be on you.’
He said it knowing the conversation would be aired to millions of viewers.
He couldn’t find it within himself to care.
It was one less lie he’d have to live with.
James was incredulous.
‘So, what, it was just a stunt?’
Declan nodded.
‘But she never said—’
‘Because I asked her not to,’ Declan said.
‘I mean, come on, a fake relationship? It was embarrassing.’
James’s lips parted slightly as he blew out a breath.
It was a small movement, but it was enough to know he had got through.
‘She should – she should’ve told me,’ James stammered.
‘You should’ve trusted her,’ Declan said.
‘But you couldn’t let yourself be hurt, so you pushed her away.’
He tried to focus on Georgia, but instead he thought of Oliver’s smile that first day on the plane; he thought of the dazed look on his face when they were in bed together.
He thought of his eyes flashing after their first kiss.
Declan squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories.
‘That’s on you.’ He blinked back tears.
‘And if you’re miserable now without her, that’s on you too.’
For the first time since Declan had met him, James looked ashamed.
‘I’m sorry.’ It looked like he wanted to say more, but Declan didn’t wait, turning on his heel and nearly running into Paige in the doorway.
‘Was that enough for you?’ Declan asked, wiping at his face.
‘Good shit, right? Hope that plays well with the audience.’
‘I—’ Paige started, but Declan didn’t let her finish, walking away.