Chapter Four
“Are we supposed to just stand here?” Amy muttered. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, wincing. “Do you think it’ll be rude to sit down? My back’s killing me.”
Lucy didn’t answer. She was too busy staring.
Because there, across the fire pit, partially backlit by tiki torches and trying not to be the center of attention when she most certainly was, stood Skye.
Her red hair was half up, half down, and it looked like fire caught in motion.
Her skin was as white and smooth as alabaster, which either meant she never went into the sun or the makeup artist was one skilled professional.
Lucy couldn’t look away.
She hadn’t expected Skye to be beautiful in the way that she was.
She wasn’t effortless, not exactly, and there was something tense about her posture.
There was something clenched beneath the surface, like she was holding back a version of herself.
Frankly, Skye didn’t seem like all the other bachelorettes, or at least not the way Ben had described them to her as all glossy and polished and overly cheery.
She felt real, unsmooth, and completely impossible to read.
Then, suddenly, Skye looked in her direction. But it wasn’t anything like Lucy had hoped for.
The bachelorette’s gaze skimmed across Lucy in the same flat, indecipherable way she looked at everyone.
It wasn’t warmer. It didn’t linger. And it was most certainly not curious in a way that Lucy had imagined it would be.
Which shouldn’t have mattered. Not this soon in the game.
But it did. And a small, rather sharp sting bloomed low in Lucy’s chest.
Was she that forgettable?
“Did you hear what I just said?” Amy hissed. “My spine is slowly folding in on itself.”
“Sit,” Lucy murmured out of the corner of her mouth. Her gaze was still on Skye, whose hands were loosely clasped in front of her, posture straight, thin straps of her slip dress resting on shoulders. “We’re probably starting soon anyway.”
And sure enough, the short woman with the headset on her blonde head flicked a hand toward the production crew, who instantly began adjusting lights and repositioning cameras around the fire pit.
One of the producers, who had just crouched outside the frame, suddenly motioned for the bachelorette to go ahead.
Skye took a breath as if she were about to dive underwater, and then, with a sort of forced enthusiasm, she smiled.
“Welcome everyone,” she said, rehearsed.
A crew member suddenly stepped into the frame just long enough to hand her a flute of champagne, which she accepted with a slight nod.
Lucy looked down at her own glass and had a sudden desire to chug the bubbly liquid down. Her nerves hadn’t settled yet, and seeing the woman she’d waited in anticipation to meet for three long weeks since she got the call that she’d been cast, wasn’t helping.
“Tonight marks the beginning of something unknown,” Skye went on, looking everywhere but nowhere all at once.
“We’re all here for the same reason. Whether that’s for the kind of love that changes everything or just a moment worth remembering, that’s what we’re here to find out.
” Skye paused and, more purposefully than before, she scanned the faces around the fire pit.
Lucy tried to will Skye to look her way the same way she used to will her dishes clean when she was a student living alone in her first apartment. But nope, Skye’s gaze somehow skipped her face, and she felt that ridiculous sting of being overlooked.
“So, here’s to the unknown,” Skye went on. “To the risks we take when we open ourselves up to the possibilities that come when we dare to try. May tonight be the start of something meaningful, in whatever shape that is.”
There was a brief pause, just long enough for Lucy to feel the static hum in the air. She could’ve sworn Veronica, who was standing stiffly next to her, was holding her breath. And out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Amy shifting nervously from foot to foot.
Everyone was teetering on the edge of doing something. Clapping. Cheering. No one seemed quite sure what the protocol was. Or maybe it was just nerves. Maybe all the other contestants were as nervous as Lucy was.
But then, a man in cargo shorts with a headset seemingly glued to his ear stepped forward, ruining the moment.
“Okay, ladies,” he called out cheerily. “Cameras are still rolling, so if you want a quiet moment to chat with our bachelorette, now’s the time to make your move.”
For a split second, nobody moved. But then, as if someone had hit an invisible starter pistol, the group began to splinter.
Suddenly, it was every woman for herself.
Lucy skimmed the crowd. Some of the contestants were already laughing, though it sounded kind of forced, like they were doing it only for the camera.
Others were already drifting toward the bar, and a few, including Charlotte, who looked like a woman who never showed up anywhere without a plan, were already pairing off, whispering to Alexis, likely discussing strategy.
Lucy recognized the energy around the fireplace immediately.
It was all just competitive flirting disguised as bonding.
She’d seen it in college when she joined the queer student group and realized even safe spaces had hierarchies.
And again, when she’d joined Outlook Magazine as a column writer and realized the community feel the editorial team were constantly talking about didn’t actually exist. Like, not at all.
And now, here it was again. All of it centered around one woman.
Skye was sitting on one of the white rope swings near the edge of the fire pit circle, barefoot now, one leg curled under her and the other hanging lazily. That emerald-green dress she wore had crept up higher on her thighs, and she didn’t seem to notice or care.
Sitting close beside her was a brunette in a fitted lilac dress. Her name was Alexis. No. Alexa. Or maybe it was Alexandra, and she didn’t like to be called anything else. The brunette laughed and reached over, her hand grazing along Skye’s knee.
Lucy’s fingers tightened around her glass.
It was a game. That was all. Her instincts were clearly kicking in. It was just her competitive drive, nothing more. She wanted to be noticed. To win. That little twist in her chest had absolutely nothing to do with how beautiful the bachelorette looked.
“You’re being way too obvious.” A voice came from behind her. Amy’s voice. It seemed the woman was following her everywhere.
Lucy glanced back. “I’m not staring.”
Amy laughed and stepped in beside her. “Don’t worry. We’re all staring. That’s the point of the show, isn’t it? We’ve all got our sights on the bachelorette.”
Lucy exhaled and nodded slowly. “Yeah, well, I’m thinking of going to say hi.
Break up whatever that is.” She nodded toward the swing where Alexis was leaning in to tell whatever story Skye seemed extremely invested in.
The speech happened barely five minutes ago.
How had Alexis already sunk her claws in so deep?
Amy grinned and nudged her shoulder. “About time. Go make an impression before they start circling like sharks.” She glanced at the fire pit, where Vera and McKenna were watching like they were waiting for their cue.
“Aren’t you going to go make your move?” Lucy asked, not sure why Amy wasn’t already on her way to interrupt whatever was going on between Alexis and the bachelorette.
“Not now,” Amy replied. “I’m like Sifan Hassan. Start at the back, hang out in the middle, and before you know it–bam–sprint finish, gold medal.”
Lucy smirked. Out of all the girls on the island, Amy was the only one she could see herself being friends with in real life.
Who knew, maybe when this whole thing was over, they could go out for coffee or something.
In a purely platonic way, of course. Amy wasn’t her type.
Too short, not that Lucy was extremely tall, it was just that she didn’t feel like bending down to kiss.
And Amy was far too bubbly. Lucy preferred women of average height and broodiness.
“Alright then,” Lucy said, her stomach suddenly fluttering as she turned to look at the swing. She caught another laugh from Skye, which mildly aggravated her.
What the hell was Alexis saying that could be that funny?
“Wish me luck.” Lucy steeled herself for a second before she took a step forward. Then another. She moved until she was standing right in front of the swing, right in front of Skye, who had just waved off something Alexis had said. Something probably flirty.
Skye’s head lifted, and her gaze met Lucy’s. There was a brief flicker of recognition in her eyes. Maybe even a bit of warmth, but Lucy could probably have imagined that, especially when compared to the iciness in Alexis’s eyes.
“Hi,” Skye said, her voice smooth. “Are you here to steal me away?”
“Not steal,” she replied. “Thought I’d say hello before everyone rushes in. Figured it’s better to try early than regret waiting. Twelve girls vying for your attention can get quite time-consuming.”
Skye smiled, and just like that, Lucy’s stomach warmed. Which was insane. It was simply a smile. She got smiles from gorgeous women all the time. But not gorgeous women who were contractually obligated to flirt with eleven other women.
“Maybe this isn’t the best moment,” Alexis said, leaning forward. She gave a tight smile and slid a strand of hair behind her ear. “We were just talking about trips to the Caribbean. Have you been?”
“No,” Lucy said slowly. She knew this was a tactic. Exclude her before she even got a chance. “But I’d love to hear about your trip sometime.”
Alexis’s lips twitched, but she said nothing. Lucy expected Skye to tell her that, by all means, she could steal her away, but she was already moving. “Well, I guess I should probably mingle with the other girls,” Skye said, scooting forward.
Lucy was about to salvage something from the moment and reach out to help her up when suddenly Veronica materialized out of thin air beside her.
“Hi, Skye,” Veronica said sweetly. “I wanted to tell you how excited I am to be here.” She slipped an arm around Skye as if they’d known each other for years and practically waltzed her away without waiting for a response. Or at least giving Lucy the option of stealing her back.
“Great,” Alexis muttered under her breath.
Lucy didn’t bother responding. Alexis was already shooting daggers her way and, frankly, she didn’t have the energy to deflect them.
Not after that. She turned and made her way back toward Amy, who was now lounging against the wooden railing with a drink in her hand and the smuggest grin on her face.
“Well, that was smooth,” Amy said, raising her brows.
“Shut up,” Lucy groaned, dragging a hand down her face.