Chapter Two
Courtesy of a reality show called The Sapphic Match, Lucy Calder was on her way to Leilani Cove. It was a privately owned island nestled just off the coast of Maui, with about three square miles of lush rainforest, volcanic cliffs, and well-groomed beaches.
She wasn’t there to fall in love. Well, technically she was, except love, in her experience, was something that happened off camera. Love was messy, slow, and full of intimate conversations held in parking lots, bookshops, and cozy corners of sunlit porches.
It didn’t usually involve forced prompts, drone shots, or close-ups.
Still, when the casting call for The Sapphic Match hit her inbox, she had applied.
Half as a joke to tell her friend Ben, who watched the show religiously.
And half because her ex had gotten engaged and was posting pictures of the momentous occasion on Instagram.
It had been a long shot. A one in a million chance of happening.
In fact, Lucy had never expected to be chosen.
Not even close. Especially not after the aggressive interview process, which included a series of chaotic Zoom calls, a seventy-six-item emotional availability quiz, and a request for a full-body video introducing herself wearing three different outfits.
One was a bikini shot while she spun slowly in natural light.
At the time, she’d been pretty sure she’d bombed the final callback when she had said she didn’t believe in love at first sight.
But apparently, according to the casting director, that was refreshing.
And now, somehow, she was here. Here she was on a boatful of queer women, heading toward a tropical island where cameras would follow her every move and she’d be forced to attempt to flirt under pressure.
The thought made her chest ache.
She wiped her palm across the back of her neck and stepped forward toward the edge of the catamaran deck.
Her sunglasses were hiding the fact that she hadn’t slept for more than four hours.
She blamed nerves. Or maybe the many espresso martinis from last night’s mixer.
There were parts of the event she couldn’t quite remember. Black holes clouded her memory.
Lucy clamped her hands together and took a slow breath.
The sun glittered on the ocean. Somewhere behind her, someone was filming a confession, something the contestants were encouraged to do with the cellphones that they were given specifically for the show.
Lucy took a sip of her mimosa and kept her face neutral.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be here.
She did… sort of. She was curious. Open.
Maybe even hopeful. It was just that she didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of a national audience.
A voice piped up beside her. “Do you think she’s hot?”
Lucy turned to see a woman with sleek blonde hair leaning against the steel railing. She was short, sun-kissed, and already a little red on the shoulders.
“I assume so,” Lucy said, catching her eye. “I mean, that’s the entire premise of the show, isn’t it?”
The woman snorted. She then stuck out her hand. “I’m Amy. I don’t think we met last night.”
They hadn’t. And even if they had, Lucy might have forgotten the entire encounter after her third espresso martini.
She shook her hand and introduced herself.
“So, are you doing anything special for your intro tonight?” Amy asked, running her ring-clad fingers through her hair.
It fell across her forehead in the most effortless way.
Lucy tried not to stare. The woman was stunning.
Just like every other woman on this boat.
And in that moment, Lucy couldn’t help but feel like her odds were shrinking.
“For what?” Lucy asked, shaking herself out of it.
“You know, like a little line or something. It can be cute or clever. A little something to help with first impressions and all that,” Amy said.
A knot tightened in Lucy’s stomach. She hadn’t prepared anything, because she hadn’t known to.
It wasn’t like she watched the show the same way Ben did.
Her knowledge of The Sapphic Match came from half-watched snippets and secondhand recaps.
Besides, she had no idea what even impressed the bachelorette.
The only information they’d been given about the woman was her name. Skye.
“Oh,” she muttered. “Should I have?”
“I mean, you don’t have to,” Amy said, though everything about her face, about the way her mouth pulled, the way she raised her eyebrows, said the opposite.
Fuck.
“Well, what did you come up with?” Lucy asked, trying to sound casual, as if showing up without a plan had been intentional and not accidental.
Amy gave a tiny smile and tilted her head. “You’ll see.”
“Oh, come on,” Lucy said, the words slipping out faster than she meant. Somehow, she was already behind her competition.
“It’s better if it’s a surprise,” Amy said lightly, but her tone had an edge to it.
Not mean, just competitive, as though she’d already practiced her delivery, as if she was already expecting that first rose, or whatever it was that this show used.
She would never hear the end of it from Ben if they actually handed out a LELO vibrator instead of a rose.
Lucy opened her mouth to press again, then thought better of it. There was probably a camera somewhere on the boat, and she didn’t want to come off as too pushy. Instead, she turned away from Amy and looked out toward the horizon.
Across the water, the island came into view.
Palm trees swayed in the breeze. A welcome arch was draped in flowers, and the sand was a pristine yellow.
The closer they got, the more the details sharpened.
Deck chairs were scattered, wind chimes hung off branches, and crew members with cameras and wearing all black despite the sweltering sun were scurrying about.
There was a woman holding a clipboard, pacing back and forth, seemingly mouthing something to herself.
“Okay, wow,” Amy muttered beside her, leaning forward. “This is real.”
Lucy nodded. Her throat was suddenly tight, as if something had lodged itself in there. “Too real,” she whispered under her breath.
The boat docked with a soft bump. A slim woman with purple hair and a headset bounded onto the deck.
“Welcome to the island,” she chirped. “If everyone could please grab their things and line up. We’ll take you to the house and get you all settled in.
You’ll meet the bachelorette at sunset during the welcome soirée at the fire pit.
So please rest up, hydrate, and get ready for your first official night in paradise. ”
There were cheers. Claps. Someone behind Lucy whooped, which only made the knot in her stomach tighter.
This was finally happening. Ben would lose his mind.
She wanted to message him, but anything other than selfies and confessionals was strictly prohibited.
No texts. No DMs. No connection with the outside world. At least not until filming wrapped.
For the next however many weeks, this would be her world.
Lucy followed the group along a winding path from the dock through a stretch of lush greenery. Palms swayed overhead. The gravel crunched beneath their sandals, and she could smell sweet plumeria and salt.
Ahead, the villa appeared, framed by tall ferns and bright orange hibiscus.
Stucco walls were painted a soft cream and gave way to terracotta roof tiles.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the sun just right.
Golden light spilled across a mosaic-tiled patio, and a hanging chair swayed in the breeze.
Lucy caught sight of string lights hanging off a banyan tree, already twinkling even though it wasn’t dark yet.
Amy hooked her arm in with Lucy’s.
“How is this real life?” Amy asked, staring dreamily ahead.
“It’s not,” Lucy said. “It’s reality TV.”
Amy laughed and squeezed Lucy’s arm with her own. “I can’t wait to see the rose ceremony setup. Or maybe they’re not even using a rose this year. Do you remember last season? The bachelorette was a florist, so they used flower crowns.”
Lucy made a noncommittal sound but only caught half of what Amy was saying. Frankly, it all blurred together. The further they walked up the path, the less Lucy was able to focus on anything other than the weight in her stomach.
Inside the villa, everything smelled faintly of coconut.
The entryway opened onto a sun-drenched living area.
There were curved white sofas, raffia accents, and expensive-looking rugs expanding over herringbone flooring.
Their bags had apparently been delivered to their rooms by a small army of PAs wearing all-black outfits.
A crew member with a clipboard pressed to her chest motioned the contestants toward the open kitchen, where bottles of sparkling water and chilled hibiscus rested on the marble counter.
“Please hydrate and make yourself at home,” the woman with the clipboard said cheerily.
“You’ve got an hour or two to unwind, unpack, and explore.
But please, ladies, keep to the designated areas.
Everything is marked with red arrows. If you don’t see the arrows, it means you’ve left the safe zone. ”
Amy leaned in and muttered just loud enough for Lucy to hear. Her voice was tighter than a pulled muscle. “Why do we need a safe zone? What happens if we wander off?”
“Pretty sure that’s how horror movies start,” Lucy said, smiling as she glanced at her out of the corner of her eye.
But Amy didn’t think it was funny. She shivered and ran her palms over her bare arms before shooting Lucy a look that said, ‘Not funny.’
But it was funny. Well, kind of. In the same way that everything about this setup was somewhat funny.
Lucy was quite sure cameras were set up over doorways and behind the decorative woven wall panels of the living room.
People were probably watching them right now from somewhere unseen, probably judging them and placing bets on who would win.
It was amusing, if not a little terrifying.
“I’m going to check out the room situation,” Amy said once the woman with the clipboard left the house. “Hopefully, we each have our own room.”
Lucy nodded, though she was quite sure they’d be sharing, but didn’t follow to check it out. Instead, she fetched a glass of something cold and pink from the kitchen counter and brought it to her lips.
Around her, the group began to scatter. Some darted off out of sight, and some shuffled off to the lounge and made themselves comfortable on the cushy sofa. Others headed toward the deck overlooking a kidney-shaped pool that glittered blue under the sunlight.
Still, Lucy wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She lingered near the entryway, pretending to study that night’s dinner menu printed on a little acrylic stand while she scanned the room. This was a competition, after all, and she had to get a sense of the players.
To her left was a tall, freckled woman with an undercut.
The woman leaned against the kitchen island while peeling a mango with a pocketknife.
Lucy was quite sure her name was Nova. She’d overheard her say earlier on the catamaran that she lived in a converted school bus with her Pitbull Athena.
Then, near the window overlooking the garden, stood a petite blonde with thick, tapered eyebrows.
Her name was Cleo, and if Lucy had heard correctly, she used to be a backup dancer for a famous pop star she didn’t want to name.
Then there was Priya, whom Lucy found very attractive, with her dark hair and skin and golden eyes.
Apparently, she’d spent the entirety of last year figuring out her life on an olive farm in the south of Italy, which somehow sounded completely pretentious but also extremely hot.
Lucy spotted her lounging on the sofa as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
And then, opening the fridge, was Tyler.
She wore thick-framed glasses, a vintage tee that read Home Depot on it, and she’d introduced herself during the boat ride by offering Lucy half her protein bar when Lucy had complained about feeling lightheaded.
On any other occasion, Lucy would probably have bought her a drink to say thank you.
But this was not normal life. This was a show. A game that everyone was here to win.
“Okay,” Lucy murmured to herself, finishing the drink in one last gulp. “Let’s play the game.” She set the empty glass down and headed toward the bedrooms.