Alexis’s insides twisted. She could practically feel Vivian’s stare pressing against her chest like a pointy finger, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. The room suddenly felt smaller. The air was thick. Whatever heat that was outside seeped in through the windows and wrapped itself around the room.
Birdie opened her mouth. “Vivian—”
But Alexis quickly cut her off before she could spill the truth. “No,” she said. “There is nothing going on between us. Why would you think that?” She could see Birdie tensing up beside her, shoulders stiff, her fingers gripping her own arms. But she couldn’t let the truth come out just yet, not when she was so damn close to finishing this thing.
Vivian held their gaze for a beat. Then two beats. Then three, and Alexis felt each second stretch on long enough for her to regret a hundred things she hadn’t even done yet.
Finally, Vivian exhaled and nodded. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll take your word for it, but only because I know that you know how important this is.” She put emphasis on important, and Alexis knew in that moment Vivian didn’t believe her. It was more of an, ‘I know you two are sleeping together, but if you know what’s good for you and the show, you’ll end it right now. Capiche.’
Vivian took a step forward. The tip of her shoe nearly caught on the woven Moroccan rug but somehow didn’t. She moved as if she were incapable of stumbling, which only made Alexis more certain the host had superpowers.
“I’ll see you two in the living room,” Vivian said. “I’ll be making the announcement about today’s date.” She flashed a quick smile that changed her expression completely and added, “It’s a fun one. I think everyone will absolutely love it.” Then she walked past them and out the door.
Birdie turned to Alexis. “We should’ve just—”
“Shh,” Alexis cut her off, pressing her finger to her lips. She tilted her head toward the door and mouthed, “She’s outside, listening.” And sure enough, a second later, Vivian’s footsteps echoed along the wooden floor until they faded away.
So maybe not superpowers, but a near-perfect knack for eavesdropping.
Chapter Twenty
It turned out Vivian was right. Everyone loved the next group date. It was a treat-yourself spa date. Even Birdie herself loved a good spa. In Portland, she made a bimonthly trip to Willow & Stone, four blocks down from her bookstore, for facials and hot stone massages. Now and then she’d splurge and add in a seaweed wrap, but that wasn’t as often as she would like.
This place, however, couldn’t compare. If luxury met bohemia, it would spit out a room like this: walls painted a soft, sun-warmed sand, dotted with gilded mirrors and hand-carved wooden panels. There was thin golden trim, woven rattan lanterns hanging from the high ceiling, filtering light through patterned cutouts, and velvet cushions in deep teal and amber lining the low window seats. Brass planters held towering fiddle-leaf figs in just about every corner of the room, while hanging macramé baskets cradled trailing pothos.
Right in the center, under a rectangular skylight, was a mud bath. It was more like a small pool than a tub. It was roughly twelve feet long and six feet wide and lined with smooth slate-colored stone. The mud itself was thick and glossy and smelled like essential oils and clay. Along the edges were neatly arranged glass jars of scrapers, stacks of plush charcoal-colored towels, and small bottles of lavender, eucalyptus, and peppermint oil.
“What song is that?” Louise asked, bringing the glass of cucumber water to her lips. “It sounds familiar.”
Each contestant had been handed a glass of cucumber water when they arrived, along with a thick, plush robe and strict instructions to undress down to their panties. Elise hadassured them that the cameras, with only female camerawomen today, wouldn’t film them climbing into the mud, which was a relief since Birdie didn’t want her breasts on display for national television.
“It’s a remix of something from Enya,” Bianca said, fishing the cucumber slice out of her empty glass. “Sounds just like that one song of hers…” She clicked her fingers like she was trying to summon a memory but couldn’t quite get to it.
“Caribbean,” Louise suggested.
“No,” Bianca said, shaking her head. “Not that one.”
“Oh, wait!” Louise’s hand shot up. “It’s Only Time.”
“Bingo.”
The massage therapist stepped forward. She was in her forties, with cropped black hair, and she wore a crisp white tunic. “Actually, it’s a custom track we created for our mud bath experience,” she said, her accent suspiciously American since they were in France.
“Well, it sounds just like Enya,” Bianca said, chomping on a cucumber.
The massage therapist just smiled, seemingly unbothered, and pointed to the pool. “Mud baths are excellent for drawing out toxins, relaxing muscles, and revitalizing your skin. Minerals like magnesium and sulfur are absorbed through the skin, helping with circulation and inflammation.” She bent down and dipped a hand into the mud, letting the thick paste cling to her fingers. “And don’t worry, it’s completely natural. You’ll feel like you’ve been kissed by the earth itself.”
Birdie caught Alexis’s eye.
After their conversation with Vivian earlier, they decided it was best for them to keep some distance from each other. Just for now, at least. It was one thing to be suspected of sleeping with the bachelorette behind everyone’s back and another to be actually doing it. Yes, it was unfair. And yes, Birdie felt a twingeof guilt, but mostly she was just disappointed she couldn’t sit next to Alexis in the mud bath. It would’ve been the perfect place for her hand to wander.
“Alright, ladies,” said the massage therapist, giving a delicate tap on a tiny brass chime she seemed to have conjured out of thin air. “It’s time to get in.”
Birdie slipped off her robe and panties and walked to the steps. The others did the same.
Bianca dipped her toe in first, and just like her lovely long legs, the rest of her body was also perfectly in proportion. Louise had a strong but dainty dancer’s body, and Birdie felt a strange relief that the woman’s tits were smaller than hers. Lyra was all tight curves, which made Birdie a little self-conscious about her softness and wide hips. And then, of course, there was Alexis.
Birdie didn’t need to glance over to know the outline of her waist, or the slope of her hips, or the long line of her back. She’d already memorized all of Alexis with both her eyes and her touch. And so, as Birdie stepped down into the bath, the mud thick and silky against her skin, she glanced up because she just couldn’t help herself. She caught one final, glorious glimpse of Alexis’s breasts before they disappeared beneath the glossy brown surface.
