Declan shrugged. ‘I think I’m finally ready to give it a try.’
Oliver translated this to mean that Declan was only interested in stringing girls along but wanted the audience to find him sympathetic.
‘Niall,’ Darcy said cloyingly, ‘choose a boy to kiss Maeve.’
Maeve straightened, glancing around as Niall frowned at the loudspeaker.
When Niall said nothing, Jack spoke up. ‘Come on, then. Who’s the lucky lad?’
Niall raised his eyebrows. ‘If you’re so eager, why don’t you do it?’
Maeve blushed, not looking at anyone. ‘Oh, um, I don’t—’
Jack cut her off, gently taking one of her hands and slowly bringing her palm to his lips.
‘Should’ve been more specific,’ he said, with a small smile. Maeve flushed a deeper red, pulling her hand away.
Darcy called on Holly next. ‘Why did your last relationship end?’
Holly’s face froze.
‘Well,’ she said finally, raising her head with a firm expression, ‘he wasn’t very nice. Constantly accusing me of cheating, needing to know where I was all the time, not trusting me at work… You know, the usual.’
Oliver studied his hands, troubled by the dark turn in conversation. He was certain Darcy had known about Holly’s ex, and her callousness worried him. The producers knew things about him that could be used to elicit a similar emotional response, if they chose to use them.
Maeve hugged Holly from the side. ‘On to better things, babe.’
‘Oliver,’ Darcy’s voice said, and he waited with trepidation. ‘Kiss the fittest boy in the villa on the lips.’
He was so relieved it wasn’t a question about his break-up that he barely registered the words until he noticed the other contestants’ expectant faces. ‘Er – fittest…boy?’ he echoed dumbly, hoping someone might tell him exactly what to do.
His eyes fell on Declan for a half-second too long, and he ran a hand through his hair distractedly. Declan’s mouth twitched downwards, and Oliver had the fleeting thought that if he kissed him, at least he could make the other man as uncomfortable as he was.
He took a deep breath. ‘Niall, how about it?’ he said, trying for a nonchalant tone, as though he kissed men for a laugh all the time.
Niall stood, radiating good humour. ‘I’m honoured.’
Oliver took two quick steps towards him, grabbed his face and pushed their lips together.
‘Aw,’ Jack said, as Oliver broke away and took a step back, ‘nowthat’sthe couple to beat.’
Oliver sat, glancing anxiously at Niall, who grinned back at him, unfazed.
‘Final dare, Callum,’ Darcy cooed, ‘choose a girl to kiss Declan.’
Callum scanned the group, his eyes coming to rest on Oliver as a grin spread across his face. ‘Zoë.’
It took Oliver a moment to realise why Callum was looking at him, having temporarily forgotten the entire conceit of the show in his panic over what he would be forced to do or reveal next. Based on Callum’s smirk, he had chosen Zoë to cause drama. Oliver wondered if he could drum up the energy to care, but as Declan stood, he found anger came naturally. The feeling was entirely misdirected, since Declan was only following the rules of the game. But he didn’t have to do it so arrogantly.
Zoë faced Declan, smiling shyly. As Declan leaned down to kiss her, Oliver let himself stare at where his hand rested at the nape of Zoë’s neck, tendons flexing as he pulled her closer. The tic in his jaw as they broke apart and the smirk playing on his lips made angry heat rush to Oliver’s cheeks.
When Oliver woke at another ungodly early hour the next morning, Declan was already swimming laps. It was a semi-psychopathic hobby, getting up at dawn to exercise in a tiny, oblong pool, but Oliver supposed everyone had their vices.
In his state of total fatigue, he kept reaching for the phone he no longer had to check for texts that wouldn’t be there anyway.He wondered if Sophie was as out of sorts as he was, not being able to talk. He had so much he wanted to tell her about the show – she loathed reality TV, and he could hear her colourful commentary about his castmates already. He wanted to go home, to call her, more than he wanted practically anything. But the one thing he wanted more kept him rooted to the spot.
‘Everything okay?’ came a voice from behind him. It was Paige, studying him curiously, some complicated-looking camera equipment in hand.
‘Yes,’ he said, his tone clipped. ‘Just tired.’
