Oliver’s thoughts drifted to Declan, to the fact that he couldn’t commit, to the possibility that he would have to. He felt sick and didn’t even attempt to respond.
She continued, more sharply, ‘Fine, don’t say anything. If we’re laying it all out, it’s pretty obvious what’s going on.’
‘Uh – is it?’ he asked.
‘You’re in love with someone else,’ she said, without any accusation in her tone.
‘I’m not,’ he said feebly.
Eavie stared at him. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ she snapped. ‘I deserve the truth from you, don’t you think?’
‘Okay, sure,’ he said, deciding it hardly mattered what she thought at this point. ‘I’m in love with someone else. It’s awful, not being able to act on your feelings. And I’m completely falling apart, so that’s great.’
She shook her head. ‘If I wasn’t so angry with you, I would feel sorry for you. I know Jack is one of your mates.’
Oliver blinked. ‘What?’
‘It must be difficult, knowing if you told Maeve how you felt, you would lose Jack in the process.’
‘Right…’ He didn’t fully register what she had said, distracted by Brian gesturing wildly in the kitchen and trying to not search in the corner of his vision for the person he always found himself searching for. ‘I suppose.’
‘Well, no use dwelling on it,’ she said abruptly, and he looked at her again, feeling desperately sad about the situation that they both were in. It occurred to Oliver vaguely that he might have been on the verge of a panic attack for two days now.
‘Eavie,’ he said, emotion strangling his voice, ‘Iamsorry.’
She gave him a small nod. ‘Me too.’
He stood and walked towards the villa just to get away from her, his movements mechanical and out of his control. He had gone for the bedroom, assuming it would be empty, but one couple lingered.
When he saw Declan and Imogen, Oliver nearly turned on his heel to face whatever awaited him on the patio, but his knees buckled beneath him. He flung himself onto the nearest bed so he wouldn’t collapse in the middle of the room, on camera, and make himself look pathetic.
‘All right there?’ Imogen asked, turning. Her dark curls were haloed by the ceiling lights in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t bring himself to look beside her.
‘Oh, I’m grand,’ Oliver said, incredibly tired of everyone asking him the same question. ‘Don’t I look fantastic?’
‘Sorry you’re feeling shit.’ They were the first words Declan had spoken to him in days.
‘Not your fault,’ Oliver said, meeting his eye and feeling the customary pang in his chest. His anger at Declan had entirely dissipated; he could see now how they’d been doomed from the start. He could only hope that Declan would believe him,would somehow understand that Oliver’s current spiral wasn’t the result of their fight.
‘Try to think about how it will feel when this is all over,’ Imogen said, and Oliver was jarred by her voice, which had dropped low. ‘God knows I am.’ She turned to Declan. ‘Shall I give you a moment?’
‘Yeah,’ Declan said, kneeling beside Oliver as Imogen left the room. They just looked at each other for a moment.
‘Not thinking of running away, are you?’ Declan said with a small smile, his lips lifting crookedly in a way Oliver had committed to memory. It made him feel better, if only just a bit.
‘No,’ Oliver said, with a wan smile, ‘you’re stuck with me.’
It looked like Declan wanted to say more, his lips parting slightly before he pressed them together in a thin line. He stood abruptly, his arm brushing Oliver’s side, and Oliver could feel him stiffen at the unintentional contact.
As he walked away, Oliver felt certain that if he could have one conversation with Declan, off camera, he would know what to do. Part of him thought Paige was right: if he gave Declan the opportunity to offer his own response to Oliver’s feelings, that might be less awful than him being blindsided by them airing the kiss without context. If Declan had to come out, at least it would be in his own words, if not on his own terms.
Oliver tried not to notice Declan watching him as the lights came on the next morning, or as he made his way out to the kitchen, or as he drank his tea silently at the counter. It wouldn’t do him any good at this point. It was his final day to act, and he’d never felt more unsure of the right thing to do.
For better or worse, Paige seemed to have given up on him, and called the remaining five men together shortly after breakfast. ‘How’s everyone holding up?’ she asked, her eyes sweeping across their faces and resting on Oliver.
‘Why?’ Jack asked, suspicious.
‘Just checking in!’ she said. ‘Since we’re only a week out from the finale, I had an idea.’ Oliver snorted, and her eyes cut towards him. ‘Something wrong?’
