“Anyone who says they’re as cool as a cucumber probably isn’t. Just saying,” Skye said, arching a brow.
“You’re probably right.” Lucy bit at her lip and smiled like she didn’t mind being teased. Which Skye found quite refreshing, actually.
A few seconds passed. Neither of them said anything. They both stared awkwardly at each other like two idiots in a hallway lined with terracotta tiles and framed art of sprawling vineyards on the walls when Marla’s voice echoed from around the corner.
“Final scene in two! Let’s go.”
Skye flinched.
Lucy gave her a quick look. “Are you alright?”
“Never better,” she lied. “Should we go?” The quicker she could inhale fresh air, the better. The hallway was beginning to feel like it was closing in on her.
Skye took the lead. She was acutely aware of just how close Lucy walked beside her. Close enough that her arm brushed against Lucy’s. Close enough that Skye could catch the faint scent of sunscreen and coconut shampoo.
Still, she didn’t move away.
A fork came up. Skye veered left toward the beach, toward the spot where fairy lights were strung from palm tree to palm tree and a semicircle of beach chairs had been arranged facing the waves. The camera crew was already in position down at the shoreline with their equipment lined up beside the torch-lit pathway that led to the chairs. A floral arrangement in the shape of a heart had been drawn in the sand. The Pua Kalaunu lei was draped on a pedestal made from driftwood and white stone and gleamed pale violet in the moonlight.
And the rest of the contestants were already waiting, murmuring among themselves. And as Skye and Lucy stepped onto the sand, nearly every head turned. Eyes snapped to them. Conversations faltered, and just like that, the tension became thick and sharp, like the shift in pressure before a summer storm.
“Okay, everyone, let’s get into place!” Marla’s voice called from somewhere offscreen, thankfully breaking the tension. “We’re rolling in ten.”
The contestants shifted toward the chairs and formed a loose line in front of them. Skye stood still. This was her cue. It was the moment every single one of the contestants had waited with bated breath for. The first impression ceremony. The first real declaration. In the language of this ridiculous game, it mattered more than it should. It didn’t just say I like you, it said, you stand out. You’re the one I can’t stop thinking about. It was the first sign of a front-runner, and somehow Skye was expected to make the decision with less time than she’d take to choose a new pair of running shoes. Which, by the way, she researched for months in advance of said purchase.
She glanced in Lucy’s direction, where she stood at the edge of the circle. Her cheeks were still pink, and her hair had gone a little wind-tousled on their walk down. Her eyes met Skye’s for a second too long.
Skye looked away first. Focus. She had to focus.
Alexis was the obvious choice. She was gorgeous, polished, and not too long ago took a solo trip to the Caribbean to find herself. Veronica did sunrise yoga every single morning and cried when she talked about the smell of her grandmother’s garden. McKenna had recited her dream date in a way that made even Skye excited about ice cream melting down wrists and dancing barefoot on Laguna Beach.
Any of them would be a safe bet. But then why did her eyes keep drifting back to Lucy? To the woman she’d nearly bulldozed on her way out of the bathroom, who had made that weird comment about not being a stalker, who wasn’t smooth or practiced, and referred to herself as cool as a cucumber.
Skye didn’t want to like her. She didn’t want to find herself attracted to any one of these stunning women because it meant that her role as the bachelorette was becoming a reality.
“You’re up,” one of the PAs whispered, nudging her, breaking her out of her thoughts.
Skye exhaled, stepped forward, and cleared her throat. The circle hushed. Every head turned toward her again, and Skye did her best to look authoritative but warm, sincere, and lovable, exactly like Marla had coached her earlier that day.
“Tonight was a whirlwind,” she started, managing a faint, sincere smile. “You all made great impressions. You’re all smart, funny, terrifying in the best way.”
There was laughter, small and scattered, but it helped the hummingbird flutter of nerves in her stomach.
“I won’t draw this out,” Skye went on, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. “I had some amazing conversations this evening.”
And she had. Any of the women she’d talked to would’ve made sense. Any of them would’ve been the smart choice.
But then she looked straight at Lucy and, just like that, the decision made itself.
“Lucy,” Skye said, holding out the lei. “Will you accept the first impression lei?”
Lucy didn’t move. For one horrifying second, Skye thought she might turn and run, but then Lucy’s face broke into the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen.
“Me?” she whispered, tapping her chest. “Seriously?”
“Yes, you,” Skye replied, almost laughing. “Now, will you please accept this lei before I change my mind?”
Lucy stepped forward, and Skye lifted the lei over her head before settling it gently onto her shoulders. Their eyes met and for the second time in the space of five minutes, something flipped in her stomach, something light and panicked and oddly hopeful.
