“I’m going to check out the room situation,” Amy said once the woman with the clipboard left the house. “Hopefully, we each have our own room.”
Lucy nodded, though she was quite sure they’d be sharing, but didn’t follow to check it out. Instead, she fetched a glass of something cold and pink from the kitchen counter and brought it to her lips.
Around her, the group began to scatter. Some darted off out of sight, and some shuffled off to the lounge and made themselves comfortable on the cushy sofa. Others headed toward the deck overlooking a kidney-shaped pool that glittered blue under the sunlight.
Still, Lucy wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She lingered near the entryway, pretending to study that night’s dinner menu printed on a little acrylic stand while she scanned the room. This was a competition, after all, and she had to get a sense of the players.
To her left was a tall, freckled woman with an undercut. The woman leaned against the kitchen island while peeling a mango with a pocketknife. Lucy was quite sure her name was Nova. She’d overheard her say earlier on the catamaran that she lived in a converted school bus with her Pitbull Athena. Then, near the window overlooking the garden, stood a petite blonde with thick, tapered eyebrows. Her name was Cleo, and if Lucy had heard correctly, she used to be a backup dancer for a famous pop star she didn’t want to name.
Then there was Priya, whom Lucy found very attractive, with her dark hair and skin and golden eyes. Apparently, she’d spent the entirety of last year figuring out her life on an olive farm in the south of Italy, which somehow sounded completely pretentious but also extremely hot. Lucy spotted her lounging on the sofa as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
And then, opening the fridge, was Tyler. She wore thick-framed glasses, a vintage tee that read Home Depot on it, and she’d introduced herself during the boat ride by offering Lucy half her protein bar when Lucy had complained about feeling lightheaded. On any other occasion, Lucy would probably have bought her a drink to say thank you. But this was not normal life. This was a show. A game that everyone was here to win.
“Okay,” Lucy murmured to herself, finishing the drink in one last gulp. “Let’s play the game.” She set the empty glass down and headed toward the bedrooms.
Chapter Three
“Try to smile like you mean it, Red,” Marla whispered behind her monitor. Her voice crackled through the tiny earpiece in Skye’s right ear. “Think romance. Warmth. Openness. Make the audience believe that you’re into this.”
“I’mnotinto this,” Skye muttered, smoothing both palms down her emerald-green slip dress. It was silky and backless with a thigh-high slit that had her feeling somewhat naked. But still, she tilted her head slightly and lifted one corner of her mouth. The camera panned right as a production assistant handed her a fresh glass of something bubbly and disappeared before she could say thank you.
It was the introduction, and the entire setup looked like a fever dream. The fire pit had been lit purely for ambience, considering it was hot and humid. Low music pulsed through the air. There were fairy lights crisscrossing above them, and a platter of vegan hors d’oeuvres sat untouched on a glass table to her left. In the distance, Skye could spot the ocean shimmering navy blue.
She stood just inside the glow of the fire, gripping her champagne flute with unsteady fingers. The cameras were rolling. The production team waited in anticipation. Her smile was neither real nor excited. Not to mention her fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in. She wanted to run just far enough to fake a twisted ankle and get medically evacuated from this nightmare.
Skye considered it for a second. She even stepped forward. But then the first contestant rounded the corner.
The woman walked slowly and purposefully along the winding path lined with lanterns. She was tall, with long legs and oversized curls, and her teeth were sparkly white. Her dress clung to her hips in a way that made Skye feel hot. Very hot.
“Hi. I’m McKenna,” she said. Her voice was light and confident when she reached Skye. As she held out a large, glossy shell, she said, “This is for you.”
Skye blinked down at it. It was pinkish, with striations along the perimeter.
“It’s from my favorite beach,” McKenna said before Skye could ask her about it. “Thought you should have a piece of my favorite place in the world.”
Skye had worked on the show long enough to know what to say next. She had to flirt. She had to be warm. She had to at least fake interest. Which was exactly what she did.
“And where is that?” she asked.
“Laguna Beach,” McKenna replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I go there whenever I need to reset. The tide. The cliffs. The sound of the ocean. It’s kind of magical. I’d love to take you there.”
Skye could feel her ears go hot as she plastered a smile on her face. “I can’t wait.” It wasn’t true, and frankly, the words felt kind of weird to say out loud, kind of embarrassing. She couldn’t imagine what her family would say when they found out she was the star onThe Sapphic Match. She wouldn’t be able to live it down.
McKenna stepped in for a quick hug before she floated off toward the fire pit’s seating area. Her perfume was both sweet and citrusy, and it made Skye’s head hurt.
“One down,” Skye muttered softly to herself. “Eleven to go.”
The next woman stepped into the firelight. She wore a silky silver wrap dress that kept slipping off one shoulder, and her auburn hair was up in a sleek bun.
“Hi, Skye. I’m Veronica,” she said with a breathy little laugh. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing, but I thought, you know, why not do something original, so I wrote you a little poem.”
Before Skye could say anything, perhaps mutter an awkward ‘that’s nice,’ Veronica was slipping a piece of paper out of a hidden pocket in her dress and unfolding it.
“Twelve hearts,” she began, glancing down. “One fire-lit night. In Hawaii, we gather for a chance at something right. Maybe it’s messy, or awkward, or slow. But maybe, just maybe, I’m worth getting to know.”
There was a beat of silence, and Skye had to keep herself from glancing toward the cameras and toward Marla standing off to the side grinning sheepishly.
“That was…” Skye searched for the right word, the right phrase that would make the audience happy. “Surprisingly sweet.”
