Birdie grinned so wide Alexis could see all her lovely, straight, white teeth. “Well, I—”
Alexis froze mid-sentence. Her eyes snapped toward a faint, almost metallic click that came from near the villa. She stiffened. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end. “It’s probably nothing,” she whispered, though honestly, she didn’t even believe herself. Not that she had any reason to think otherwise. As far as she could see, no lights had flickered on in the villa, no shadows had moved across the terrace, and beyond the perfectly trimmed hedges was nothing but darkness.
Which, frankly, meant nothing.
Hadn’t she hidden behind palm trees in the dead of the night like some psychopath in last season’s show? But then again, she’d also made herself known to Skye pretty quickly, because how could you blackmail someone without telling them about it?
Her thoughts were suddenly cut off by a low mechanical groan. And then the pool water shifted, ripples raced across the surface like a hundred tiny silver snakes.
Alexis was so relieved she almost laughed. The tension left her shoulders in one ridiculous whoosh. “Just the pool pump,” she said, a little breathlessly.
Birdie exhaled and gave Alexis’s hand a little squeeze. “This sneaking around isn’t good for my blood pressure. I’m glad it isn’t for much longer.”
“Me too,” Alexis said, and meant it. “My nervous system can’t take much more of this.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Birdie felt like she was floating. Or at least this was what she imagined floating felt like, since she’d never actually experienced weightlessness in her life. She thought of those videos she’d seen on Instagram of people in those zero-gravity pods, tumbling and drifting, and knew it had to feel something like this. Only better. Because she wasn’t tumbling in a pod, she was orbiting Alexis. Which sounded corny as hell, but she didn’t care. Alexis was going to give her the final lavender bouquet. She had said so just last night. And on top of that, she was also going to come clean to everyone, which felt like the right thing to do. Birdie’s conscience was beginning to take a knock. Every time she snuck back into her room and spotted Bianca under the covers, she experienced a knife-like twinge of guilt. A butter knife, but still. Wasn’t the premise of the entire show about finding love?
“Birdie,” Bianca called through the door.
“I’ll be right out,” she said, grabbing the towel off the drying rack and working it through her wet hair. It was hot out. Warm morning air seeped in through the cracked window, heating the steam she’d left behind after her shower. “Just give me a second.”
No response.
She took that as Bianca giving up and leaving for breakfast. Birdie was reminded of the mini eclairs in the fridge, and her stomach grumbled. Just yesterday they had a wonderful morning spread of pillowy croissants, homemade butter, and smoked salmon laid out in silky ribbons beside capers and creamcheese. She couldn’t imagine eating as much as she had then, but she also couldn’t imagine eating any less.
But when Birdie stepped out of the bathroom, still tugging at the ends of her damp hair, she was more than just a little surprised to see Bianca still in the room. And even more surprised to see her perched on the end of Birdie’s bed with her knees bouncing nervously.
“We need to talk,” Bianca said. Her usually breezy voice sounded heavy and stilted. “Do you have a minute?”
This is strange,Birdie thought. Their relationship didn’t involve personal talks. Even when they got ready, Bianca usually had earphones in while she sat in front of the mirror and Birdie did her makeup silently in the bathroom.
“Sure,” Birdie said slowly, wondering whether or not she should begin to panic.
At first, Bianca didn’t say anything; she just stared down at her hands. Her fingers rubbed along the hem of her navy-blue tank top. She was in sweats, and her hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail. “I saw you last night,” she said, flicking her head up to look Birdie in the eye.
Birdie blinked. “Saw me?” she asked, her voice already shaky. She draped the towel around her shoulders, suddenly convinced her skin was becoming blotchy and that somehow meant that she was guilty. But what exactly was Bianca even accusing her of?
“Where?” Birdie asked. Although she didn’t need to ask. She knew Bianca’s answer. And she came to realize that the sound they’d heard last night, the sharp click they’d brushed off as the pool pump, hadn’t been that at all.
“By the pool. With Alexis. You two were holding hands.”
“That was noth—”
“I’m not an idiot,” Bianca interrupted. She shifted back onto Birdie’s bed and crossed one leg under her. “I’ve suspectedsomething for a while now. You think I don’t notice when your bed is empty at night? Or hear you sneak back into the room in the early mornings? I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together.”
Birdie’s heart was an entire marching band. It thundered in her chest. “It’s not… it’s not what you think.” She wanted to sound breezy, nonchalant, like she could brush this off. But her voice wobbled, and the denial collapsed on itself before she even finished the sentence. Because itwaswhat Bianca thought. In fact, it wasexactlywhat Bianca thought.
“Are you sleeping with Alexis?” she asked. “Are you two sneaking behind our backs?”
Birdie sighed. She could lie. She could say, ‘No, of course not, don’t be ridiculous’, and then convince Alexis to keep everything a secret, to go on with the show as normal. But did she want that? Or was finally saying it out loud the only way forward for her sanity, if not to stop her heart bouncing around like a ping-pong ball.
“Yes,” she sighed.
Bianca wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Birdie knew she had to explain. Really explain.
“I know it’s bad. There’s no version of it that isn’t bad,” she said. “And it’s definitely not fair to you or anyone else.”
