Brian looked at the sky. ‘The fireworks are a pretty magical sight, I’ll tell you. It’s my favourite night of the summer.’
‘Sounds romantic,’ Imogen gushed, flashing Oliver a sly smile. He continued staring ahead, irritated by her continual insistence on cheeriness. He couldn’t tell, looking at the backs of Declan and Zoë, whether they were speaking or not.
Paige looked relaxed for once. ‘Hey, maybe Declan will get that kiss after all.’ She nodded to the cameraman behind them. ‘As long as we get a shot of it.’
‘Ooh!’ Imogen exclaimed, then visibly held herself back with a glance towards Zoë and Declan. ‘They’re going to kiss under the fireworks?’ she asked, quieter.
Oliver wasn’t enjoying this topic of conversation at all. ‘Did you tell Declan to ask me for advice?’ he asked Paige.
‘No, he had the idea himself.’ She gave him a sidelong look. ‘Would it matter if I’d asked him?’
‘No, it wouldn’t have,’ he lied. His annoyance had solidified into something more resolute. The manufactured scene, Declan blatantly using him for a plotline with Zoë, weighed on him more than it should have. ‘I just like to know what’s going on.’
She cocked her head. ‘I’ll be sure to clue you in in the future. I think it will be received well, though, so no worries.’
‘Right. No worries,’ he echoed.
They turned a corner and arrived in an open field. Oliver found himself impressed by the beauty of the night despite his foul mood. As they approached the contestants already in the middle of the field, the first fireworks soared into the night sky, exploding in a cascade of golden light. Oliver tipped his face up in appreciation, forgetting where he was for a moment.
‘Wow,’ Imogen said.
‘Could you get shots of the couples?’ Paige asked the cameraman.
Oliver followed her gaze and noticed Jack and Maeve and Niall and Stella slow dancing under the fireworks. He turned instinctively to look for Declan and Zoë and found them on the far side of the group. Zoë was hanging off Declan, long hair falling down her back, their faces close as they swayed in the evening light. Oliver’s legs felt numb, as though the temperature in the field was much colder than a balmy twenty-six degrees. A group of bright fuchsia fireworks crackled above his head, and he breathed in.
‘Quick – Declan and Zoë,’ he heard Paige mutter.
Oliver tried to not look at them. He trained his eyes on the sky, on the treeline, on the fireworks, on anything else. But they kept sliding, against his will, over towards where they were dancing.
Imogen inhaled sharply. ‘They’re so beautiful, aren’t they?’
His eyes swept down, and he saw Declan’s face dip towards Zoë’s. He watched as Declan pulled Zoë closer and kissed her. Oliver blinked, glancing away, and found that Imogen was looking back at him. Her expression was almost apologetic, and he wasn’t sure why.
Chapter 13
Declan
Four Weeks Until Finale
Neil Steel: You know what they say: where there’s smoke, there’s fire. And we’ve seen quite a few sparks this past week!
Zoë Park: ‘It was such a romantic first kiss! It’s a moment I’ll remember forever.’
Neil Steel: Sounds like Declan more than delivered on the fireworks. But the King wasn’t the only one with a flair for the dramatics.
Imogen Vichare: ‘I’m absolutely gutted that Jack has gone and two-timed me. You think it’s all sorted, that a guy’s solid, then he pulls a move like that.’
Neil Steel: I say this on behalf of all the men out there: thank God I’m not Jack Obiaka.
The group woke to a message from Darcy: ‘Ladies, all this fun in the sun must be hard on you. That’s why we’re sending you to get primped and pampered.’
‘Oi,’ Jack grumbled at no one in particular, as he sank back into the duvet. ‘What about us? Where’s our spa day?’
The girls ignored him, murmuring excitedly as they went to get ready and leaving the boys to groggily fume at being passed over. Declan was the first among their ranks to pull himself out of bed, going to find Zoë for a touching on-camera goodbye.
The kiss under the fireworks the week before had fixed everything. On their day off, she’d admitted the whole spat had been a ploy to get them more screen time, and that the kiss had been the perfect conclusion.
Leaning against the doorframe of the dressing room, he watched as Zoë twisted her hair into a pair of effortless-looking braids. He’d always enjoyed watching Georgia get ready for events, and he found the same calm watching Zoë. She finally spotted him as she finished the second braid.
