They pulled themselves out, dutifully handing over their now water-logged microphones.
Paige’s expression softened into a wry smile. ‘But good stuff, keep it up.’
Oliver and Declan traded amused looks as Brian delivered a bored lecture about the importance of maintaining the equipment.
The crew arranged a neon party for the Lovers the next night. Brian had provided Declan with a neon pink tank top, yellow sweatband and miniscule bright green workout shorts.
Dressed and ready, Declan sat in the girls’ dressing room as Zoë painted intricate designs on his arms and legs. The producers had given them Day-Glo paint, and the cameramen were manoeuvring to get shots of each couple painting one another. He looked over at Niall and Stella, and he could see how it could make for cute content. Niall was gazing at Stella adoringly as she carefully painted kitten whiskers on his face.
‘There,’ Zoë said, surveying her work with pride. Declan smiled at her and reached for the paint to return the favour, but she stopped him. ‘Actually, do you mind if I do mine myself? I kinda have a vision for it.’
‘Oh,’ Declan said. ‘Of course. Honestly, I’d prolly make a mess of it.’ He stood. ‘I’ll get out of your way, then.’ He dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
When he walked into the bedroom, he encountered a lone Day-Glo’d Oliver deciding between two equally horrific patterned shirts.
‘Have you thought of burning both and going topless?’ Declan asked, sitting on Oliver’s bed. Oliver rolled his eyes, shrugging a black shirt with neon green parrots over his head and smudging the purple paint on one cheekbone.
‘You’re hopeless,’ Declan said, with an exaggerated sigh. He stood and wiped at the smudge with his thumb, his other handgrasping Oliver by the back of the neck to hold him still. His grin faded slightly as he noticed how close the two of them were standing. Close enough that he could see the small flecks of gold in Oliver’s eyes, could smell pine and amber on his skin.
‘Er – sorry,’ he said, backing off.
‘Thanks,’ Oliver said easily, glancing around the room for a cameraman that wasn’t there. He turned back to Declan with a guarded look. ‘Is it fine now?’
‘Yes,’ Declan said, looking Oliver over.
The producers had given him a similarly short pair of neon shorts, and his exposed legs were strong and lean, freckles sprinkled across pale skin. He was wearing a glowstick necklace around his head, casting his face in angelic light.
‘Shall we?’ Oliver asked, holding out his elbow. Declan smiled and looped his arm though Oliver’s as they walked out onto the patio.
The others trickled out of the villa soon after, and music started booming over the loudspeakers, an indication for the festivities to begin.
Declan didn’t think he’d ever get comfortable dancing in such a small crowd, but it was easier now that he knew everyone better. He was surprised by how comfortable he felt with them – he didn’t take to people very quickly, and had few friends as a result. Georgia had once accused him of keeping the world at arm’s length, and it wasn’t untrue. But he laughed along as Jack and Owen attempted a breakdance fight for a few frantic minutes before settling into a two-man conga line.
Declan slung an arm over Niall’s shoulders and grabbed Oliver’s waist as they jumped around shouting out the lyrics to the Dua Lipa song playing over the loudspeaker. The girls were hand in hand, swinging each other around. It was absolute chaos, and Declan couldn’t imagine it would look good televised, but he figured there must be some magic in the camera angle.
They danced for hours before Brian finally told them they had enough footage and the whole group sighed with relief.
The night wound down, the girls slipping off their heels and dipping their legs into the pool to soothe their aching feet. Declan and Oliver took it upon themselves to make tea for everyone. Oliver looked as tired as Declan felt, struggling to keep his eyes open as they waited for the water to boil.
‘All right?’ Declan asked, putting a steadying hand on Oliver’s bicep.
He nodded. ‘Exhausting, isn’t it?’ he said as the kettle beeped off. He poured the water, passing the steeping mugs off to Declan, who set them on a tray.
As Declan carried the tray across the patio, he noticed Jack and Imogen sitting in a secluded corner, while Holly and Owen snogged on the couch swing. He didn’t interrupt either pair, pleased that his mates seemed happy.
Instead, he walked towards Zoë and Maeve, who were lounging by the pool.
Zoë gave him a grateful look. ‘Thanks, babes.’
Declan kneeled to pass the last mug to Maeve. She took it from him, muttering her thanks as she gazed across the pool sombrely. Declan wondered whether she and Oliver were on the rocks somehow. He walked back, intending to ask Oliver about it, but he found him perched on the counter with his head back and eyes closed, asleep.
‘Oliver,’ Declan whispered as he drew closer. Oliver made a soft noise in the back of his throat. ‘Hey, you’ve got to wake up.’ He reached out and grasped Oliver’s shoulder, shaking him slightly, and his eyes finally opened. ‘I think we’ve probably only got a quarter of an hour before they let us go to bed,’ he said, removing his hand. ‘Come on, let’s have a chat.’
Oliver blinked at him, bleary-eyed. ‘Tell me more about boxing.’ His voice was low as he lifted Declan’s bad wrist andthen let it drop. ‘I know that’s the only reason why I won yesterday. It’s still hurting you, isn’t it?’
Declan nodded, even though he didn’t particularly want to talk about it on camera. But Oliver had asked, and Declan desperately wanted to give him whatever he asked for.
The gnarled skin where the sutures had been was stark against his otherwise unblemished arm. The doctors had inserted three pins to hold the remnants of his wrist together. Even now, months later, when he couldn’t fall asleep, he thought he could feel where each individual piece of metal had punctured bone.
