Chapter Seventeen
Skye knocked on the villa door. She felt like she was either about to deliver food or sell a vacuum.
Three sharp raps sounded followed by a long enough pause for her to consider telling Marla that this date idea that they always included in The Sapphic Match—where the bachelorette surprised the contestants late one evening at the villa—was probably the worst idea in the show’s canon.
But it was too late. She could already hear the sound of feet thudding against the wooden floors. And then the door swung open, revealing Cleo standing on the other side of it wearing pink pajama shorts.
“Oh, my goodness!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”
“Who is it?” A voice called from the living room.
Cleo snapped her head back and shouted. “Skye!”
That got quite the reaction. There were shrieks of voices. Everyone seemed to be relaxing in the living room. A few of the girls flailed slightly on the sofas as they tried to sit up straighter, and others tried to hide behind throw pillows.
Amy shouted the loudest, “Don’t let her in yet. I look like a raccoon.”
“We can’t leave her waiting at the door,” Alexis called, leaping over the sofa while clutching a throw pillow to her chest like a shield.
Priya followed her, carrying a bowl of half-eaten popcorn in her arms. And then, more girls popped up over the sofa.
Nova had her hair in a messy bun above her head, reading glasses perched atop her nose, and Charlotte, who didn’t have an ounce of makeup on her face, looked almost unrecognizable.
There were half-drained wineglasses on the table and empty plates. There were scatter cushions on the floor and nineties pop music playing softly in the background.
Skye deadpanned. “Oh, good. And here I was worrying you’d all be dressed up.
Now I feel right at home.” She tugged at the hem of the black satin two-piece pajama set the designer had chosen for her for this exact occasion and smiled as if the soft makeup on her face, the outfit, and her perfectly curled hair weren’t staged to the last detail. “Can I come in?”
Cleo nodded frantically as her hand still clutched the door handle. “Of course. Please. Welcome to the villa.”
Skye stepped inside. “The production team didn’t say I couldn’t stop by on a whim,” she said, giving a wide grin. She hated how forced her voice sounded and how she had to pretend it wasn’t exactly what she had been instructed to do. “Hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Alexis said, hooking her arm in with Skye and directing her toward the living room. “We’re so happy you’re here. We were actually just talking about you.”
“Really?” Skye asked.
“Really,” Alexis said, tugging her into the circle of sofas and cushions. Nova immediately shuffled over on the sectional and patted the space beside her like Skye was an honored guest. Which, technically, she was.
Skye sank down because her legs were feeling strangely stiff this evening.
She locked eyes with Lucy, who was sitting on a sofa across the room.
She was wearing sweatpants and a tank top.
Her legs were tucked in under her, and her hair was loose around her face.
She winked and smiled, and Skye felt her insides curl.
It was a sensation that dragged her right back to the beach earlier, to that hammock, to the way Lucy’s eyes had met hers, and to the way she had kissed her with all those cameras watching.
A kiss she hadn’t stopped thinking about since.
“Do you promise you’re not here to confiscate our wine?” Nova teased, pulling Skye’s attention away from Lucy.
“Not unless you’re hiding a distillery back there,” Skye shot back, jerking her chin toward the kitchen. “And even if you do, as long as you share, my lips are sealed.”
That got a few laughs, and suddenly the room relaxed. Charlotte shoved a glass of wine at Skye. Priya asked her if she wanted popcorn. And within two minutes, they were interrogating her.
“What’s your favorite movie?” Cleo asked.
“I don’t have a favorite movie,” Skye answered truthfully. This was the second time today she was participating in some sort of rendition of Twenty Questions. “I don’t get much time to watch them.”
“Is that because of your job?” Priya asked, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth. “You know, we still don’t know exactly what it is that you do.” She glanced around at the other contestants, who nodded their heads in agreement.
Skye cleared her throat, very aware of how much she could not say. “Media,” she settled on finally, taking a sip of wine to cover her hesitation to answer truthfully. “I’m in media. I spend a lot of hours behind a screen.”
“Like in editing?” Nova asked, frowning softly.
“Like managing people who do the editing,” Skye said smoothly, feeling more confident. No way they could deduce that she was actually an assistant director for The Sapphic Match from that. “And then managing their crisis. And then managing my own crisis about managing their crisis.”
The room burst out laughing, including Lucy, and she leaned back feeling relieved. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Marla would approve.
“Worst date story ever,” Amy fired next.
Skye tilted her head and pretended to think about it. Although the memory was easy to dredge up. Not just because it had been a disaster, but also because it was with a man. The very last man she had dated before finally admitting to herself that she was attracted to women.
“Okay,” she began, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “So back when I was in college, I went on a date with this guy who insisted on taking me to a themed mini golf course. You know, the kind with the neon-lit windmills and animatronic dinosaurs.”
Everyone nodded.
Good. She was doing exactly what she needed to get the viewers’ attention. Skye was making herself seem relatable, funny, and just a little exasperated.
“Anyway, halfway through, we got into a full-on argument at the seventh hole. He pitched a screaming fit because, and I quote, ‘you’re cheating me out of my par.’”
Charlotte snorted wine through her nose. “Seriously? Did he seriously say that?”
Skye nodded. “I know. It was so embarrassing. He kept going on and on, and people were starting to watch us. I could even see the mortification on their faces.” She dragged her fingers down her cheeks.
“I was mortified. He kept moaning about how he’d never lost to anyone before, and all I remember was that my cheeks were burning red hot.
Honestly, all I wanted at that moment was for the earth to swallow me whole. ”
“What did you do?” Priya asked, her eyes wide.
“I did what every sane woman would do,” Skye said, hating how overly dramatic she sounded.
But the contestants seemed to lap up her words, and so she leaned into the drama.
She let her hands gesture animatedly and her voice rise just enough to make it entertaining for live TV.
“I threw my golf club down at his feet and walked away.”
“Good for you!” Alexis exclaimed, smacking a palm across her bare thigh. “But I would’ve aimed for his head.”
“I agree,” Cleo muttered. “Or—”
She was interrupted by Lucy, who leaned forward until her elbows rested on her knees. “Was that date before or after you realized you were into women?”
“Before,” Skye said, flicking her gaze back to Lucy.
“How did you know you were a lesbian?” Lucy asked, her eyes narrowing and her smile disappearing to show a thin press of lips.
Everything about the way she was looking at Skye, at the way she rested her chin on her fists, made it feel like she was undressing Skye layer by layer.
Which honestly, was one of the hottest things Skye had ever experienced.
A forbidden fruit. All Skye really wanted to do right now was storm across the room and pull Lucy into a kiss. But she didn’t.
Instead, she put on the biggest grin she could muster without looking ridiculous and turned her attention to everyone else. “I can ask the same of all of you.”
Tonight wasn’t the night to bring up all those fond memories. Especially her coming out story, which had been neither smooth nor especially inspirational.
“Well, I always knew,” Amy said, leaning back into the sofa. She crossed one leg over the other and bounced her ankle up and down. “I was in the seventh grade when I had my first crush. Her name was Charisse Walters, and she had the most beautiful ringlet curls you’d ever seen.”
Cleo snorted. “Seventh grade? That’s adorable.”
Priya grabbed a cushion from the floor and stuffed it onto her lap. “Mine was definitely in high school. I had a drama teacher called Ms. Laurent, and—”
“Of course it was the drama teacher,” Alexis cut in. “Well, mine was in college, and I’d say it was an enlightening experience.”
“Enlightening how?” Nova asked, reaching for a chocolate bar that sat half unwrapped on the coffee table.
Alexis shrugged and tossed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Let’s just say I learned a lot more than the fundamental principles of matter in my chemistry class.”
“That sounds scandalous,” Priya said. “I love it.”
The conversation drifted to other things: worst first jobs, awkward family vacations, and the weirdest food they’d ever tried. There was laughter and more wine, and everyone had something to say. Well, everyone except for Lucy, who just stared at Skye in a way that made her inner thighs throb.
Eventually, Skye pushed herself off the chair. “Well, I’ve officially overstayed my welcome. It’s time for me to head to bed.”
There was a chorus of protests. “No! Stay! You can’t just drop in and leave.” And then another chimed in, “We’re keeping you here until you tell us every last thing we didn’t even think to ask.”
But Skye had to leave. It was how things worked.
She smirked and started backing toward the door.
“Goodnight, ladies,” she said when she reached it.
She gave a final salute and then her gaze flicked one last time to Lucy.
Their eyes met. Lucy smiled softly, and in that moment, Skye found herself willing Lucy to follow her back to her bungalow.
Her brain was practically screaming. I’ll be waiting for you.
Don’t take too long. But when she turned and slipped out into the warm night, she had no hope that Lucy would actually come.
The door closed behind her, and then Marla stepped out from the production tent set up outside the villa. “Was that story about the bad date really true?” she asked.
Skye smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She ran her fingers through her hair and let her hand rest against the back of her neck. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed.”
“Get enough rest. We’ve got that brunch thing tomorrow, and I need you to be on your A-game. No exceptions.”
Skye rolled her eyes. She left Marla and took a right toward her bungalow. By the time she slipped onto the stone path, she couldn’t see the villa anymore. Or hear the girls. Or feel the presence of the cameras. All she could hear was the scuff of her fluffy slippers against stone.
But then a noise sounded loudly behind her. It was very clearly the sound of twigs creaking under a weight.
Skye froze, and her pulse sped up. She turned back just enough to glance over her shoulder. But the path was empty except for the shadows created by the palms hanging overhead.
“Lucy,” she called out in a voice slightly higher in pitch than usual. “Is that you?”
But there was no answer. There was only another snap of a twig somewhere close by.
“You know this is a bad idea,” Skye said, despite mentally willing Lucy to follow her.
She wanted to kiss her again. In fact, she wanted to do more than that, but she was also terrified of being caught.
“You know we shouldn’t keep sneaking around like this, right?
We have to keep whatever is going on between us strictly in front of the cameras. ”
But still, there was nothing. No sign of Lucy. No sign of anyone.
Skye waited a beat and then another. She counted to five, and when she was sure she had just made up the sounds, or worse, a creature had made it and had probably scurried away, she turned back around.
But not before a figure stepped forward out of the shadows. A figure with blonde hair. A figure with a smug smile on her sharp, pointy face.
“Alexis?” Skye said, feeling like her heart had just leapt into her throat.
The blonde was half-smiling, half-smirking as if she’d caught Skye in the middle of something, which technically she had. Her hands were shoved in the pockets of her pajama shorts, and her hair was tied up in a low pony. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you,” she said.
Skye’s shoulders dropped. “You didn’t,” she said quickly, which was a lie. A big, fat lie. Her stuttering pulse could attest to that. “I just thought you were—” She cut herself off quickly.
“Lucy?” Alexis finished for her, raising an eyebrow.
Skye blinked, knowing she had been caught red-handed. She tried to recover with a thin smile and a little white lie. “Why would I think you were Lucy?” she asked.
But Alexis didn’t look convinced. And why should she be? Clearly, she had heard Skye calling Lucy’s name out loud and that they shouldn’t be sneaking around. There was no mistaking what Skye was talking about.
Alexis’s smirk turned sharp, as if she’d just put together a puzzle no one else had noticed was missing pieces.
Skye’s mouth went dry. Her instincts screamed at her to do damage control.
Her thoughts pleaded with her to laugh it off and to insist there was nothing going on and that there was no secret at all.
But before she had the chance to even think of what to say or how to say it, Alexis stepped forward and closed the space between them.
She leaned in and kissed Skye on the cheek, and then stepped back.
“Goodnight, Skye. Sleep tight,” she said, her smug smile curling with the weight of a secret.