Neil Steel: Welcome back, everyone, for another long, hot summer. And we’re already off to the races with Niall and Stella leading right out of the gate.
Stella Reyes: ‘I saw him and it was like I’d known him in another life.’
Neil Steel: But others might have had a false start…
Maeve Kostas: ‘Callum would not have been my first choice.’
Callum Morgan: ‘She’s a frigid [bleep].’
[Neil Steel: Yikes! Well, it’s anyone’s game, so place your bets now. Tune in nightly to see who comes in… and don’t forget to vote for who goes home!
Declan pushed himself out of bed at dawn. He’d always been an early riser. When he was younger, his dad would wake him and his brother every morning to train before school, and the habit had stuck.
It was quiet when he walked outside; the lights were still out in the bedroom, which meant he had time to himself before the crew arrived. He cherished every moment off camera. Keeping up appearances was already exhausting him, and the charade wasn’t made any easier by the proximity to a certain dancer.
Swimming had been his doctor’s suggestion, an exercise designed to work his arm back into its full range of motion.Declan hadn’t been excited at the prospect, but had come to love the silence of being underwater.
He slipped into the pool, treading water for a few minutes so his body could adjust to the near-frigid temperature before beginning his laps. Even though this had originally been pitched as a holiday by Georgia, he didn’t intend to let himself slack off – he needed to be in top shape when he got back in the ring.
He swam until his wrist ached, then slowed, floating lazily and enjoying the quiet of the villa after the exhausting night before. They had danced for hours before they’d finally been allowed to go to bed. By the end, Declan had been hot, tired and a bit miffed that he hadn’t been able to get drunk enough off their two-drink allowance to take the edge off.
The creak of the gate announced the arrival of the production crew, and Declan pulled himself out of the pool, heading towards the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Oliver was the first to make it out of the bedroom when the lights flicked on, shuffling over to Declan and staring blankly at the kettle as it came to a boil. Rubbing at his eyes, he started to rummage through the cabinets, his oversized sleep shirt slipping to reveal a bare shoulder. He set four mugs on the counter by Declan.
‘Thanks,’ Declan said, awkwardly thrusting the box of tea at Oliver. He was standing close enough for Declan to feel the heat radiating off him, and when he made to take a step back, their elbows accidentally knocked together.
‘S’all right,’ Oliver said, tiredness giving his voice a soft timbre.
Declan poured the boiling water and retreated to the other corner of the kitchen with his two mugs, wanting to get out of Oliver’s immediate vicinity.
He blew on his drink distractedly, watching Oliver pull a carton of milk out of the fridge and splash some into the tea. Heheld the carton out silently and Declan shook his head, trying to end the interaction. Oliver shrugged, humming and stirring absently, his delicate fingers dwarfing the mug.
Declan realised he was staring and glanced away, catching the glare of a camera hidden in the rafters above their heads. Jack had read somewhere that there were seventy-five cameras in the villa, and they’d made a game of trying to find them. Declan would have to let him know about this one.
He took a sip of his tea and grimaced, wishing he had added milk, as Lara walked out of the bedroom with Zoë. Declan dumbly pushed a mug of tea at her.
‘Oh, thanks,’ she said, sighing happily. ‘You’re such a gentleman.’
Declan inclined his head, watching Oliver present his own cup of tea to Zoë. Niall and Stella walked into the kitchen next, holding hands. There was a tension in the air brought on by what Declan supposed was the awkwardness of sharing a bed with a stranger, the stress of the competition, and the fact that they were under constant surveillance.
‘So, let’s have it,’ Declan said brightly, ‘how did you all get desperate enough for a date that you wound up here?’
Jack, who was making his way to the fridge, snorted. ‘Why don’t you start, King?’ he said, pulling a jug of orange juice out. ‘Wouldn’t think a famous bloke like you would have any trouble finding a bird.’
Though he was closest to Jack in the villa, Declan was still wary of how much he seemed to know about the other contestants. He wouldn’t let himself be fooled into opening up by easy smiles and wisecracks. Years of experience had taught Declan that the less people knew, the safer he was.
‘Maybe I’m finally ready to settle down,’ Declan said. He knew how he came off to the public; he and Georgia had done their best to construct a certain reputation for him. The reality wasn’tfar off, with all of Declan’s romantic entanglements taking place in crowded clubs and only ever lasting the night. The difference was the level of care Declan took to make sure no one noticed him slipping out the back door with another man.
Not coming out hadn’t been a conscious decision; he had just never thought it was the public’s business who he saw behind closed doors. He hadn’t wanted to sacrifice that final piece of information, the one thing in his life that still truly felt like his. That, and being known asthegay boxer was a responsibility he wasn’t ready for.
‘And what about you? Nobody hot for teacher?’ Declan teased. Though he wanted to look like he was stirring the pot, really, he was assessing weaknesses – like he’d do with any opponent before a match.
Jack’s expression transformed into mock annoyance. ‘One viral video of my stand-up set on a failed engagement and suddenly the dating pool dries up. Figured I might as well take drastic action.’
Declan nodded while immediately discounting the story – being a teacher and an amateur comedian, Jack was certainly on the show for the prize money.
‘Not a single woman in London left? Brutal,’ Holly quipped as she joined them, Maeve scoffing at her side.
