Declan was last, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. The producers had probably saved the most egregious post for him, and he wasn’t excited to find out what they had in store. He grabbed the board off the bar and read out: ‘Girls, get you a man that looks at you the way [blank] looks at [blank].’
Relief flooded through him at the tame post. ‘Jack and Maeve?’ he guessed.
‘No fair,’ Jack said. ‘That was an easy one!’
Declan pulled the tape off and revealed the correct answer: ‘Get you a man that looks at you the way Declan looks at Oliver,’ he read out. It took longer than it should have for the meaning to sink in. Then his face went numb.
Jack and Owen keeled over with laughter. ‘The real frontrunners,’ Jack said between huffs.
It was Maeve who walked over to the bar and grabbed a drink, throwing it in his face with an almost sad look. Declan blinked rapidly, trying to get the sticky liquid out of his eyes as a ripple of discomfort crawled up his back.
The game ended and the contestants scattered while the production crew cleaned up, but Declan was barely aware of any of it. He sat in a nook at the edge of the garden and leaned his head against the wall, listening to the others chat in the kitchen.
He tried to take a deep breath, but the air left his lungs in a flitting, unsteady rhythm. They’d been careful, he had made sure of it. They hadn’t been acting any differently. The posts had been jokes, and the producers were messing with them for laughs. Rationally, he knew that. But he was already plotting how he could do better, how to school his features even more when they were together. Declan knew how to look impassive; it was a face he’d learned long ago.
‘There you are,’ Imogen said. ‘All right?’ Declan looked up at her, her hair still dripping and chest stained red. She sat beside him, gently lacing their fingers together. He nodded.
‘You sure?’ she asked, cocking her head. ‘You don’t look like your usual peppy self.’ He smiled tightly, wishing he could put her mind at ease, but there was a buzzing in his ears and he felt lightheaded. ‘That bad, huh? You look miles away, love.’
‘Just thinking about the posts,’ Declan managed, trying to find a polite way to ask her to leave.
‘Oh, they weren’t that bad,’ Imogen teased. ‘You actually came out looking pretty good, I think.’
‘Right,’ he said, unsure how to talk about what was bothering him without mentioning Oliver. ‘Just didn’t realise I was so popular.’
Imogen’s laugh was a bit too loud. ‘Of course you are! You’re every girl’s dream.’ She winked.
‘Maybe I don’t like how they’re perceiving me,’ Declan tried to explain. ‘It’s – it’s not real.’ Actually, he didn’t like how close to the truth the audience had got.
‘It’s a reality TV show,’ Imogen said, ‘of course it’s not real.’ She pointed at the plants in the planter box behind their heads. ‘See, fake.’ She pointed at the blinking camera peeking out of a nearby sconce. ‘Fake.’ She pointed at her chest. ‘These? Definitely fake.’ That got a small laugh out of Declan, and Imogen grinned at him in a private way that reminded him of Georgia.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ Imogen said, leaning into his side. ‘I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. I’m theperfect girlfor you, anything you need.’ She was looking at him intently.
Something in the way she’d said it made Declan squint at her. She seemed to notice the change, nodding her head encouragingly as if to say,come on, you’ve nearly got it.She glanced pointedly at Oliver, laughing with the other contestants in the kitchen, then back at Declan.
‘Oh,’ he said, the dread he’d felt moments ago returning immediately. She squeezed his hand, but Declan hardly felt it. The buzzing in his ears started again, and he could feel his heart throbbing behind his eyelids. ‘I’m, uh, gonna go and take a shower,’ Declan said, patting her knee and standing.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, frowning.
‘I know,’ Declan said, too quickly. ‘I just hate being sticky.’
Imogen looked at a loss, her hands wringing uselessly in her lap. ‘I’m here, whatever you need. We’re in this together,’ she said finally.
Declan walked away from her feeling unmoored. Imogen knew. And if she had figured it out, who else had noticed that there was something going on between him and Oliver?
His thoughts wandered aimlessly, not settling on anything in particular, leaving him feeling fuzzy and like he might be developing a headache. He breathed out slowly, hoping his mind would slow to a manageable speed where he could work out the problem at hand. Imogen knew and she wanted to stay with him anyway. She was offering him everything he had come on the show to find – only he wasn’t sure he wanted it any more.
‘Hey,’ Oliver said, intercepting him before he reached the villa.
Declan didn’t look at him directly, convinced one glance would unravel him. ‘I’m going to shower.’
Oliver’s eyebrows knitted together. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked, putting a hand on Declan’s shoulder.
Declan shook it off and moved to get around him. ‘I’m great.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Oliver said, side-stepping back into his path.
