Me?
Honey’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Camilla looks faintly insulted too.
Ozzy just smiles at me, open and easy, like this is the most normal thing in the world.
I stand, my legs wobbly with surprise, and move to stand by his side. He puts a warm hand on my back in that casually possessive way that producers love. Someone in the control room – probably Simon – is probably fizzing with delight. Almost as much as the champagne will be fizzing. Even I can tell this is great TV from here. I might get a slo-mo walking shot out of this, which is equal parts horrifying and hilarious.
And then the voice speaks again.
‘Lockie, your turn.’
I don’t know why I’m holding my breath still.
Lockie scans the girls, eyes unreadable behind the firelight. But then he smiles.
‘The girl I’m choosing is the one I’ve had the most fun with so far – our beds may be shaky, but we’re solid. Honey,’ he announces.
She squeals like she’s just won a holiday and launches herself into his arms. He catches her, shooting me a glance that I try to ignore.
Then Tony, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, sighs.
‘Well, that leaves me and you, Camilla,’ he tells her.
‘Stunning to be chosen last, thanks, guys,’ she says sarcastically.
And… it’s done. The first coupling. Tony and Camilla, Lockie and Honey, and me and… me and Ozzy!
There’s this odd buzzing in my chest – part nerves, part disbelief, part… pride? Being chosen first shouldn’t matter. I’m not here to ‘find love’ or win airtime or make a showreel. I’m here to fill a gap, to play along, and then get out. But still, I feel a little like I’ve won something – a game I didn’t know I was playing.
Lockie gives me a look across the fire that I can’t quite read. Maybe it’s annoyance. Maybe it’s because he thinks I’m getting too into it. It’s not jealousy… is it? Either way, it makes my insides feel like jelly.
Let me have my moment though. Ozzy chose me. Me! Over two influencers. We’ve been styling it out like Lockie and I are the two normal people they’ve thrown into the Z-list mix, so to be chosen… wow.
Not that I’ll let it go to my head. Not that I care – not really. None of this is real – I’m not here as a contestant, I’m here as a glorified prop. A stage marker until the real deal arrives.
Still… it is kind of an ego boost, right?
15
I wake up to the gentle sound of the waves, the beautiful tweeting of the birds – and Ozzy, staring straight at me.
I sit up in bed, quickly, because for a second my brain can’t make sense of the world. Then I remember where I am, what’s going on – that I’m on a reality show, sleeping on the beach, in a bikini that – oh, thank God, it’s still covering all my bits and pieces.
I can just hear the voiceover now –Day three on the island, and Ozzy is watching Cleo snore.
‘Good morning,’ he says, flashing me that winning smile.
‘Morning,’ I reply, desperately trying to smooth out my hair. ‘Have you been awake long?’
‘A couple of hours,’ he says casually. ‘I like a morning run, so I did a few lengths of the beach. This place really is deserted, you know?’
Oh, I know.
He looks annoyingly fresh for someone who has been sweating back and forth across the sand. He just looks so… alive! I don’t know how I’m going to achieve that without a coffee and a shower.
‘Yikes,’ I say. ‘At least we have the cameras looking out for us.’
‘Yeah, seems kind of odd, that they’ve moved production off the island,’ he replies. ‘I saw the old studio building. That’s where the luxury suite is, right? I hope they still have that.’
