She drops her robe at my feet. She is wearing the tiniest dress known to man with thigh-high patent leather boots.
Fuck me.
She struts out to the boys as the music begins. I don’t immediately recognise the song, but the lines about having to taste her when you kiss someone else ring in my heart like an alarm.
The men are stunned that cute Carys can look like this, all wide-eyed, mouths hanging open. Patrick looks like all his birthday wishes came true.
The skirt of her little Oktoberfest-type dress poofs out so we can all see the bright white knickers she wears underneath. The back is laced up in a bodice, and I can’t help but think about loosening those ties, slipping my hand up that tiny skirt. Insisting she keep the boots on.
When she steps one foot up on the back of the bench next to Patrick and leans forward to kiss him, I almost die.
I worry I look too clearly into this, but luckily, the other women can’t look away either as Carys circles her bum in Patrick’s crotch. He’s the only one she touches.
I feel winded when the song ends and she walks over to us dusting her hands. Jesus, I can’t believe that all it took was a dirty little dress to undo me.
‘She was pretty good, wasn’t she?’ Bridget’s eyes bore into me.
‘Yeah. She was,’ I say, and I can’t help but notice the linger in her look. I worry that she has noticed the weird energy between us has a distinctly sexual tone. ‘I’m going to talk to her. Try and smooth this fight out.’
Bridget pats me on the shoulder, and her wings flutter with the movement. ‘I think that’s a good idea, babes.’
Production rush in to remove our heart monitor bands, and inform us that we’ll find out who won in the morning – probably an attempt to get us drunk, cocky and fighting over who was best for the drama.
The Nguyens announce we’re having a party to celebrate our love or whatever. This will be the perfect opportunity for Carys and me to slip away to talk.
I bide my time as drinks are wheeled out, and someone sets up a kind of DJ booth. No one changes out of their outfits, so we look like we’re having a themed sexy party.
Zack appears with a tray filled to the edges with shot glasses. ‘Let’s get this party started!’
It’s quickly loud and raucous, and after everyone has accepted one round of shots, the cameras focus on individual couples dancing together.
I find Carys with Patrick, still blushing so furiously that I’m worried about his health.
I take her by the elbow gently. ‘Can you help me in the bathroom with something?’ That’s the only place I can be certain we’ve got total privacy.
For a moment I think she’s going to reject me. ‘Fine,’ she says wearily.
We unclip the wires from our mic packs and turn them off for good measure, leaving them in the bedroom. Production might not notice we’ve gone offline if we’re quick.
I shut the door behind us, as Carys sits down on the closed toilet lid causing the layers of her skirt to puff up like a ballerina. I stay standing, which makes me feel even taller than usual, but I want to have the door at my back. My exit if things go wrong.
‘We need to make that truce permanent,’ I say. There’s no point beating around the bush. It’s not like we have the best communication when we’re actively fighting, after all.
‘We’re fine.’
‘We are not fine and the others are starting to notice.’
‘Really?’ Her eyes dash to the door. ‘Do you think—?’
‘Not if we put all this to bed now.’ I regret my choice of words. ‘I’m just not sure this is worth our energy. Can we not just be distantly polite for the rest of this process?’
‘No.’ It’s a sharp little bite of a word.
I groan. ‘Why? You don’t even knowwhyyou’re angry with me.’
‘Yes, I do.’ She seems as puffed up as her skirt. ‘You’re a liar.’
‘Right, and what about exactly?’
