Was she really impressed? Or was she just pretending? Vivian had a feeling Sienna wasn’t into birds the same way Dani was, but then again, were there that many birders in the world?
Holly cleared her throat. “I once saw an eagle swoop down and pick up a squirrel.”
Carla pulled a face.
The other two circles were made up of the remainder of the contestants. They were far less lively. Vivian could tell they were just pretending to chat, when actually they were stealing glances toward Sienna, hoping she’d catch their eye. Vivian felt sorry for them. But then she had to remind herself that she was basically doing the same thing and snapped her head away toward the right-hand corner of the main lodge’s dining room where a life-sized elephant skeleton—an actual one, from the lodge’s collection—had been draped in cascading strings of morning glory.
“Can I get you another?” the bartender asked.
Vivian hadn’t even noticed her drink was empty until she glanced down at the glass in her hand. “No, thank you,” she said, leaning back against the bar countertop. “I shouldn’t.”
The bartender nodded, giving up too easily in Vivian’s opinion, though she was glad for it. He retreated to organizing the shelf of vodka bottles. Vivian’s eyes followed a server who was weaving through the room. The woman was young,probably in her early twenties, with long, thick braids spilling over her back. She balanced pink-colored drinks in tumblers, each topped with a tiny umbrella. Sienna took one, kicked it back, and then grabbed another. The second glass went down just as fast.
Vivian’s brow lifted.
Then she noticed Sienna’s laugh turned a little louder, her gestures a little looser. She even swayed a little on the spot. It was barely perceptible unless you were watching closely. And Vivian was watching closely.
A few seconds later, Sienna broke free from the circle and headed toward the exit sign. The restrooms were located just beyond that door, so Vivian assumed she was just making a bathroom run. She watched her go, perhaps a little too obviously. At least the camera was angled toward the contestants and not her. She could stare in peace.
And she did. She couldn’t help herself. Sienna was a flame, and Vivian, despite knowing better, was the moth. Vivian was completely drawn to her, with her wings practically singeing. Especially after that conversation earlier, when Sienna had assumed she was straight and then looked utterly flabbergasted when Vivian had said she wasn’t. And then there was that nervous look on her face, the way her voice had wobbled like a fragile egg.
Did it mean something? Maybe.
Vivian remembered a younger version of herself acting just like that. It was almost fifteen years ago, but the memory felt recent. She’d been hopelessly infatuated with Laurel Meyer, who used to teach yoga at the little studio just two blocks from Vivian’s apartment. One day, Laurel’s sexuality had come up in conversation. This was before Vivian was even out. When Laurel had mentioned her ex-girlfriend, Vivian’s entire body had seized up. She’d completely forgotten how to speak. Her skin hadturned a blazing red, which had crept up her neck and burned across her cheeks as if the sun itself had decided to tattoo her shame in living color. Because yes, Vivian had felt shame. She’d imagined Laurel naked several times.
A sharp metallic clang suddenly sliced through the room.
Vivian blinked back to the present just in time to see Sienna midway through clipping one of the cocktail tables with her hip. A few empty coupe glasses left by the smaller of the two circles had trembled, but thankfully none fell over. Sienna barely even noticed. She just carried on walking, or more like stumbled, toward the exit and disappeared behind the beaded curtain.
Shit. The bachelorette was drunk. Which, frankly, was a surprise. Vivian’s first impression of Sienna was clearly off the mark. But Vivian’s opinion of her barely mattered compared with saving her image. A drunk bachelorette was a sloppy bachelorette, and the viewers did not like sloppy. Vivian had to do something. In fact, she was obliged to do something.
And she did. She walked over to the edge of the room where Elise was sitting behind a folding monitor screen, clicking through camera feeds. “I think we need to call it a night.”
“Why?” Elise asked without looking up.
She continued clicking the mouse, and Vivian very nearly yanked it from her hand. This was serious. Why wasn’t Elise paying any attention to what was going on right in front of her face?
Vivian huffed. “Because our bachelorette looks like she’s had too much to drink.”
They both glanced at Sienna as she walked back into the room. She was still swaying slightly. Her face was flushed. The hair at her temples was wet and plastered against her skin, and her makeup was smudged under her eyes as if she’d splashed water on her face without realizing she still had to appear on camera.
Elise pulled a face. “Fine,” she said, looking as unpleased as someone whose bank card had been sucked up by the ATM. “Take her back to her tent, will you?”
“Me?” Vivian asked, shocked. Surely there was some capable PA who could escort the bachelorette to her tent. But then her stomach roiled at the thought of someone else with their arm wrapped around Sienna’s waist, her alcohol breath on their shoulder, and before she could ask herself why she was feeling so strongly about it, she said, “Fine.”
Vivian left Elise and marched over to intercept Sienna before she could rejoin the circle. “Walk with me,” she said, and expected Sienna to put up a fight, even yank her arm back like those drunkards who insisted they were fine right before they face-planted into the bushes in the parking lot. But she didn’t. She just nodded and allowed Vivian to lead her out into the fresh air.
Tonight, the stars were barely visible under a blanket of cloud. The air was noticeably cooler. The contestants had probably noticed by now that Sienna had left, but that was Elise’s problem to deal with.
“How many of those drinks did you have?” Vivian asked, leading the way down the stairwell to the wooden walkway. She kept an arm around Sienna’s waist. There were lights fixed to the beams, but still, it would be easy to lose their footing in the darkness.
“Will you judge me if I said I lost count?” Sienna muttered.
“Probably,” Vivian replied.
“The world is spinning,” Sienna said, leaning into Vivian. The bachelorette’s body was warm and pleasantly heavy against hers. The way she rested her head against Vivian’s shoulder, her face turned toward Vivian’s chest, made her painfully aware of just how inappropriate this was.
Sienna was drunk and Vivian had selfishly accepted the role to escort her back to her tent. There was nothing appropriate about this.
