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 forThe Sapphic Matchfrom 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.
