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vivianna
When breakfast rolls around the next morning, Esme gives me a brief smile as she makes her around the table, sitting across from me. Griffin settles down next to me, eyebrows raising as he issues me a semi-confused look.
Fernanda and Aiden whipped up some tapioca crepes, sliced fruits and mango juice, setting it all up on the table before sliding into two seats together. Everyone’s on their best behavior, what with all the mics and cameras currently present.
As everyone dives into their food and respective conversations, Esme gives me a look that suggests the good behavior won’t last for long.
“How was the photoshoot?” Brody asks from next to her. They’re not touching in any way, and his hands are clasped over his lap.
“Fine.” Esme’s response is clipped. “What were you up to?”
“Sleeping,” Brody laughs. No one else does. Instead, everyone’s senses are heightened, paying attention to every word. Even while small talk is going on at different sides of the table, people are still listening.
“Really?” Esme looks at Imogen, who is opposite the table from her, nex to Zander. Esme knits her eyebrows together in faux confusion. “Can you confirm?”
Imogen’s face remains passive, and Brody interrupts.
“Why would she be able to confirm that?” Another laugh.
“Oh, I just thought you guys talked about everything,” Esme chirps, “given that she was in our room last night while I was out.”
With that, all side-conversations hush.
“What?” Zander asks.
“Someone saw you,” Esme says, cutting her crepe without issue.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brody says. He swallows. Imogen is far better at the poker face than he is.
“No?” Esme asks. “Then where were you and Imogen when everyone else was out?”
“Zander was gone too,” someone says. “They might’ve been together?”
Zander opens his mouth, then closes it. He catches sight of me. I know damn well he wasn’t with Imogen. He didn’t even know where she was, allegedly. The two can try and put on a last-minute front to protect their image, but the cameras would’ve picked up our conversation, and he’d be exposed in a minute.
“Were you with her?” Esme asks, eyes zeroing in on Zander.
“No,” he finally says.
“So, stop bullshitting and own up to it,” Esme says, turning back to her two focuses. Even after our conversation last night, I hadn’t expected her to be so upfront about it. All the viewers are going to know what happened. It’s going to jeopardize how people view their relationship. It’s not a smart decision, but damn, is it a satisfying one. “I already know. You’ve already disrespected me. The least you could do is apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” Brody says, eyes pleading, and it all comes tumbling down.
Imogen announces that she can’t have this conversation right now, because it’s “inappropriate”. As Imogen leaves the room, Esme cries out after her: “Yeah, what’s inappropriate is hooking up with my boyfriend!”
Zander dips shortly after Imogen, so Brody and Esme are left. Brody’s trying to make all sorts of excuses for what he did. It was a mistake, they’d only messed around a few times, they were both tipsy. But Esme’s not having it.
“I’m this close to leaving the show,” she snaps.
“Please,” Brody says, “we can work it out.”
“You’re an asshole,” she spits, and side-steps him when he tries to grab her.
When she’s gone, Brody stands up, throwing his napkin down on the table. He runs his hands through his hair. “Great meal,” he says to a gaping Fernanda and Aiden before making his way out of the door.
There’s a long silence.
“Might be a bad time, but can someone pass the crepes?” Griffin asks out of nowhere, receiving gawks in response.
***
An hour later, both couples are locked into their respective rooms, yelling the roof of the Villa off. I know one of the producers is going to make a corny voiceover when this appears in the next episode, all like: “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise. Will the alleged cheaters be able to win back their partners, or will both couples be forced to leave the Villa?”
Everyone else is strewn about the living room, watching TV, playing ping pong, and making the occasional random comment about the blow-up when both couples emerge, materializing one duo after the other in the living room.
Wyatt mutes the TV and grimaces at Everleigh, and subsequently, at the rest of us. Esme and Brody sport tear-streaked faces, but neither Zander nor Imogen have any indication of crying, save for faint redness dusting Imogen’s cheeks.
Esme’s waves fall to her shoulders like a modern-day Aurora, and even though her face looks red and splotchy, she seems like she’s just about pulled herself together. She settles down between Everleigh and Wyatt on the couch, and both give her a side-hug.
Imogen and Zander, holding hands, walk into the kitchen to search for a bite to eat. They make some conversation, but nothing relating to the elephant in the room. Griffin and I—from where we’re sitting on kitchen stools— exchange one glance.
Looks like both couples are in it to win it, no matter how painful it is. Brody and Imogen’s thing has been relegated to a fling. And judging by the way they blatantly ignore each other, there’s a good chance it’ll stay an embarrassing memory. The question is how convincing will their act be to our audience?
One lazy hour later, the Amadors call us outside to the beach. Mila Amador glows underneath her floppy hat and pink sunglasses as both her and Philip inform us of a scavenger hunt to “clear the air”. They definitely know what’s what from the footage.
Given the recent chaos, the Amadors split up the messy couples. While Brody is paired up with Fernanda and Esme with Aiden, Zander is paired up with me, and Griffin with Imogen — because what could possibly be problematic about that?
It’s definitely intentional. The producers want to see if Zander and I will get into another argument, and give them a deeper glimpse into our history, because the viewers will eat it up. I don’t plan on giving them what they want. Griffin keeps his eyes forward as Imogen makes her way up to him.
They don’t touch at all, give each other just the slightest nod before the Amadors hand each couple a list of the items we need to find. I want to check in with Griffin, maybe meet his eyes, but the last thing I need to be is clingy. He’s a grown man. He’ll figure it out.
Zander gets our list and immediately begins walking once the timer officially starts. We don’t talk about anything except our list and the vague locations of each item. We communicate in nods and monosyllables. Any kisses and hugs and dates in our history become faint, like we’ve always been strangers.
The two of us used to work together. One of our first dates was literally in an escape room, and I remember the way we solved the riddles and broke out. Like we were a team. A startling wave of deja vu hits me as we work efficiently, finding the beaded necklaces, faux gold doubloons and beach ball on our list, meaning we’re about halfway through the list.
Zander, sensing we’re in good standing, straightens up, the doubloons clinking together in his pockets. He slows to a stop.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask, eyes scanning over the list. “We still have like three more items. Come on,” I say, starting up again. “I’m sure we both wanna get this over with as quickly as possible.” I say it lightly, so viewers can interpret it as excitement to complete our little mission, rather than irritation.
“Look, Viv.” Zander says, “I think we should just address everything, so it’s less awkward.”
I draw my lips into a line, nodding subtly at the literal camera operator several feet away from us, but close enough to pick up our voices. “Address what? This heat? I was going to say that it’s getting really hot out—”
“—I mean, our relationship.”
My heart drops. Why would he do this here, why would he do this now? I thought we both shared an unspoken agreement that we were simply going to continue on this show as though we’d never met each other before, especially in the presence of cameras.
“What?”
“Come on, Viv.” I hate the way he calls me Viv, like we’re friends or even acquaintances, at this point. But somehow, the thought of him calling me Vivianna is even worse. I don’t want him to call me anything, I don’t want to have this conversation now, and I sure as hell don’t want to have this conversation in front of the cameras.
“I feel bad about how it ended,” Zander says. He smiles, sympathetically, then casts a sidelong glance at the camera. It finally registers. This is for show. After being cheated on, Zander wants our audience to think that he still has everything under control. He wants the cameras picking this whole conversation up, just so he can be portrayed as sympathetic and reasonable and mature. He’s not an obsessed ex, bringing up our history— no, he’s a matured adult who is ready to unpack his history to strengthen his own relationship.
But with Zander, everything has to be on his terms. For example, when he’d give me the silent treatment post-argument—it’d go on for hours or days, only for him to start talking to me a few days afterward like nothing happened. I’d be on my feet, constantly, but he would maintain control over the situation. No, it didn’t matter how I felt or if I wanted to talk to him— it was about him and what he wanted.
Zander didn’t seem to have any plans on talking to me back at the Villa, or when he patronized me at the beach the other day and accused me of joining the show because I somehow telepathically knew he’d be joining. Give me a break.
Through gritted teeth, I utter, “It ended like a year ago. Don’t feel bad. I’m over it.”
I try to keep the defensiveness out of my tone, but a little of it seeps through. I’m finally doing my own thing and he wants to dredge up the past so that everyone and their mama knows we used to date.
But I can’t play defensively. Because then I’ll play right into what he probably wants, which is for him to look mature and earnest while I look emotional and butthurt. Always fishing for brownie points, Zander is.
There’s a tense moment when I think Zander might press more, might say something else, but he doesn’t. He nods. “Great. Just didn’t want to make it awkward.”
I plaster on a grin. “Of course not. Let’s go find our next object.”
The camera operator is already rolling his set away, the argument dying down quicker than it could start. When we’re finally out of sight and hearing, Zander speaks to me again. “Griffin, huh?” The way he drags out Griff’s name feels somewhat derogatory, but I shrug it off.
“Yup,” I say, stooping down and pretending I’m fishing through the sand for our next object— a tiny treasure chest.
“Where’d you meet?” He asks. My stomach drops, but I don’t make any indication of the fact.
I shrug. “We were on the same flight and then found each other on the show?”
“So, you two are really a thing?” Zander’s eyebrows are raised when I turn around to look at him. “He likes you?” I hate how he says it, like it’s a joke, like it’s unlikely. Even though he’d be right, because Griffin and I’s relationship is anything but real. Of course, he doesn’t like me. This is an agreement, nothing more. And I hate that I’m proving Zander right in some way, that no guy has reciprocated my affections since him, that my only chance of winning this show is faking it through.
Zander can’t be doing this for the cameras anymore, now that their attention is elsewhere, so maybe he’s doing this because of what went down with Imogen. Clearly, their relationship has taken a hit, but it doesn’t seem like they’re calling it quits anytime soon.
“Don’t act so surprised,” I say wryly.
“Come on, I don’t mean anything by it. You two are just very private.”
“And I’d like to keep it that way,” I reply. “How about you and Imogen?”
“Just like you and Griffin,” Zander snorts.
What does that even mean? The two have been anything but private since they joined the show. Clearly, he’s referring to something else, but what? I think Griffin and I have everyone convinced that our relationship is real, but Zander’s in business development— he’s always been shrewd. “I wouldn’t say so,” I say, lightly.
Zander stops down next to me, so we’re both digging for the next object on our list. He shrugs, his voice dropping as he says, “We’re in it to win it, too. No more, no less.”
Then he moves on, arrogant as he unearths a small brass treasure chest from the sand. “Found it,” he says, before shoving the chest toward me and grabbing the item list. “What’s next?” He asks, but I’m not listening, still crouched down as he rises to his feet.
We’re in it to win it, too. No more, no less.
Zander’s not some mad genius, but he dated me for two years. He obviously doesn’t buy what Griff and I are selling, and he clearly doubts someone like Griff would fall for me at all—talk less of in a few days.
But clearly, Imogen and him have been playing the long game, and I don’t doubt they’re going to do anything in their power to make this cheating debacle go away. Despite the uncertainty that curdles in my stomach as it always has after a conversation with Zander— I know that I have to tell Griff what’s what as soon as I can.