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vivianna
The beach is on fire.
The night is black and a massive flame dances in the sand, music filling the atmosphere. Contestants dance and drink and snack. I’m a little ways away from the bonfire, swaying to the music, waiting for Griffin to come back with our drinks.
There’s a sudden tap on my back, and I assume it’s Griffin, but when I whip around, I’m face-to-face with Imogen Morgan.
I startle a bit. With everything I know about her from yesterday’s conversation with Griffin, she’s now cast in a new light. Imogen being very career-driven is believable to me, but Imogen Morgan, a two-timer? It seems absurd, unreal. I wonder how Griffin found out. Did the other man reach out to him, or did Imogen come clean herself? I never asked.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Imogen lets out a light laugh.
I let out a light laugh too, however, it’s far more forced. A little indignance on behalf of Griffin bubbles to the surface, but I push it down.
“I wanted to talk to you about Zander.”
Fantastic. I thought I did enough talking to and about my ex yesterday, but apparently not.
“Shoot,” I say. We settle down on two plastic chairs, and she faces me.
“I know you two had history. Zander told me.” Imogen starts. I wait for her to get to the point. “And obviously, I have no problem with that.” She keeps dancing around what she really wants to say. I wait. “So, I just wanted to make sure that wouldn’t be an issue. Because I like you, and I want to be friends. But Zander is in this game with me, and I want to make sure we have clear boundaries. That’s all.” Imogen’s tone is so sweet I almost don’t hear the warning beneath it.
Here I was all concerned with Esme, but Imogen is calculating as hell. She knows what she wants, and she’ll get it. And she’ll do it all with an endearing beam and a giggle. If it wasn’t so unnerving, I’d be impressed.
Imogen’s eyebrows are raised, and I realize she’s waiting for my response.
“Trust me, you don’t have anything to worry about,” I say. I was in love with Zander, but at this point, I’m beyond him. I’m still patching up my heartbreak, but I’m not that desperate. I’m not going to steal Zander away from her, especially given how lowly Zander thinks of me.
Imogen reads my face for a few seconds. Maybe she sees something that she approves of, because she nods. Then she reaches forward and squeezes my arm. “Sounds good.” Then she’s off.
As I watch her go, I see Griffin approach with a drink in each hand. He blinks twice, giving me a strange look as he gives Imogen a wide berth.
“What was that about?” He’s in front of me now, passing me my cocktail. .
“She basically said ‘back off Zander’ in the sweetest, most passive aggressive way possible.”
Griffin snorts. “She should probably relay that message to him instead.”
“Something tells me she definitely will.”
Griffin laughs, about to respond when his name is called by one of the guys. Aiden. But he’s in front of a pack of all the other guys. Brody is wearing a “Saturdays Are For the Boys” tank, and already seems completely drunk out of his mind.
Aiden jogs up to Griffin and gives me a polite nod before turning back to Griff. “The boys and I are thinking of raiding the hotel bar.”
“Raiding?”
Aiden winks at me. “No need to worry. The Amadors gave us their position. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just be stealing Griffin for a second.”
“Hurry up!” Brody or Wyatt bellows from somewhere far behind.
“Go ahead,” I say, giving Griffin a light nudge. “I’ve been waiting to get rid of him.”
Griffin raises a hand to his chest and Aiden snorts as he drags him away.
And no sooner has Aiden taken Griff away from me do I feel a pat on the arm. When I turn around, I see a grinning Ramona in a red sundress.
“The girls were thinking of hanging out. Chatting. Bonding. You know.” Ramona says. It is the right idea. Even if nearly all Lovebound couples throughout the history of the show have broken up, the sisterhoods have always been unmatched. A lot of Lovebound women still remain friends, for as long as others remain enemies. I don’t exactly want the latter. So, I push any prejudgements to the back of my mind and let Ramona lead me to a glowing beach tent about thirty feet away from the bonfire.
She pulls aside the patterned cloth, letting me walk through first. All the girls are already here, a few sending me half-smiles as I stride into the room.
Esme claps her hands together as I settle down on a plush seat between Ramona and Saanvi. “Okay. Now that everyone’s here, we can literally talk about anything.” A pause. Esme does little jazz hands. “Are we happy with our choices?”
Most people know to be cautious. On more than one occasion, Lovebound contestants have used casual chats to expose or create cracks in their fellow competitors’ relationships. At the same time, if your relationship can’t stand the petty drama of a reality show, maybe it wasn’t meant to last in the first place.
Still, whether people are looking for long-term or not, that prize pot is tantalizing, and I doubt anyone’s going to want to completely risk that, even the hopeless romantics among us.
But openness is also a virtue. I guess the viewers feel like they know the contestants better. Too much silence is suspicious. I’m debating speaking up when Ramona does. “I really like Marco. He’s so cute. Lord.”
Ramona’s exclamation breaks through the ice.
“And respectfully, your man’s good on the field,” Fernanda adds.
“Don’t be too humble,” Ramona says. “I saw Aiden’s kick. He was killing it in defense.”
Other girls go to fawn over their guys, and suddenly, all these women are giggling and chatting excitedly like middle school girls at a slumber party.
“I think Brody’s more of a football guy,” Esme says, eliciting a few snorts. “Like, the American kind.”
“So,” Imogen pipes up. “No one’s having second thoughts?” She looks at me briefly as she says this.
“I think it’s too early to tell,” I say, drawing all attention to me.
Everleigh fixes my gaze with her wide blue one. “Too early to tell? Come on, we’ve seen you and Griffin together.”
“Always sneaking off...” Saanvi sings.
“Flirting non-stop,” Ramona pokes me.
Heat rises to my face. They wouldn’t be playing the role of cheerleaders if they knew it was all fake. Imogen’s eyebrows are raised, like she’s trying to read the lie off my face.
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” I say. The nervous laughter starts bubbling off.
“Well, he did dump me for you,” Esme says. The tent hushes.
“Sorry about that,” I say, although I’m not sure how much I mean it.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Esme laughs. “People get rejected in this game; that’s just how it works. And I’m happy with Brody. If he doesn’t screw up, we’re smooth-sailing, I think.” A simple shrug. She pushes her hair—chestnut with blond highlights—out of her eyes.
“Fingers crossed,” Imogen says, pulling her hair back with her signature beam.
“I think that goes for all of us,” Everleigh gestures to everyone in the tent. “I mean, if it works, that’s amazing. If it doesn’t... screw it!”
“Yeah, honestly,” I say, relieved we’ve pushed the Griffin conversation away. “We’re just giving it a shot, right? Either way, we get free cocktails and a vacation.”
“We might even get sisters,” Saanvi grins.
“Totally,” Esme echoes. This time she looks at me, and a small smile erupts on her lips, cautious but there. Not the shiny picture-ready smile, a quiet, thoughtful one. She takes a swig of her drink, pointing at us in a semi-accusatory manner.
“I trust you guys won’t screw me over like all those other Lovebound bitches.” She passes the drink to her right, where Imogen sits.
“Unfortunately,” Imogen says, after a sip. “I think betrayal’s the Lovebound curse.”
“Well, whatever happens happens.” Esme says, taking her drink back. As of now, I think we should make a little toast.” She meets my eyes. “Vivianna, wanna make it?”
Not particularly, I think, but I raise my cocktail to the air, the other girls following suit. “A toast to Lovebound and to us Lovebound women. If it’s not a toast to love, it’s certainly a toast to fun.” We clink our glasses together and tip our heads back.
Half of us may hate each other by the end of this, but right now, in this glowy tent, on this beach far away from home— I can pretend that the now is all that exists.
***
“Open up the hatch!” A dumbass bellows from outside the tent.
After our little toast, a couple of us fell asleep, and the ones who didn’t ended up scrolling through their phones or talking in hushed voices. The deep male voice and subsequent laughter pulls us out of our lethargy and Ramona makes haste to open the door.
With that, all our guys come rushing into the tent, some with plastic bags and extra cushions. The place was already pretty tight, so it’s jam-packed once the guys settle in. And they’re loud as hell settling in too, plopping down next to their girls and yelling out half of their speech. Especially Brody, who is leaning on Wyatt for support as they walk in.
“We got smores!” Dominic cries out with a bag full of chocolate bars. Other guys raise their bags as well, with marshmallows and graham crackers and roasting sticks. Griffin grins at me and tosses me a marshmallow out of his bag. I catch it, and respond to his wink with a half-smile.
Wyatt wakes Everleigh up, and she’s absolutely dumbfounded as she opens her eyes to see that our tent has doubled in population.
“I think we’ll have to roast them outside. Don’t exactly want to burn this place up,” Aiden says, Fernanda rising to her feet so that she’s next to him.
“That’s the plan,” Marco says. “Let’s get outta here.” He outstretches his hands to pull Ramona to her feet. We end up all leaving the tent, Griffin’s hand on my waist as he guides me out. We settle down around the bonfire. People pass around the bags and soon, everyone’s holding out their marshmallows on a roasting stick. The fire’s so huge that people keep their distance, so as not to completely lose their marshmallows in the flame.
We slam our smores together and eat. Wyatt whips out an acoustic guitar from somewhere and starts playing a few basic campfire songs with the air of a camp counselor or some sort of youth leader. Everleigh leans against his shoulder as he sings, half asleep as she bites into a smore.
Wyatt takes song recs from an enthusiastic Dominic and Saanvi, Ramona and Marco do a little dancing with Aiden and Fernanda to said music, Brody sings very drunkenly and off-key as Esme laughs, all while Imogen and Zander sway on their seats.
Griffin’s fingers drum over my thigh in their usual pattern, and I’m half-drunk off my cocktail, his scent and the lingering smore sweetness as I lean into him, my fingers tracing a pattern on his own thigh.
I’m so close to his chest that I swear I feel a breath hitch as my fingers draw designs onto his skin.
The night darkens, and a faint dreaminess blankets the beach.