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vivianna
Everyone is here.
Not just everyone we lived in the Villa with at some point, but people like Fleur and Richard who got eliminated long before that. We’re in a large dining hall, the warm glow of lights setting the scene. All the contestants—current and former are all dressed up as we reunite.
Esme and Ramona greet me with warm hugs and the scent of perfume. Aiden and Brody are still as inseparable as usual, but they’ve now invited Wyatt to make their duo a trio. Saanvi and Dominic are still together in an unsurprising turn of events, and spend most of their time with Ramona and Marco. Everleigh and Wyatt also maintain a unit, but Fernanda, Esme, Brody and Aiden are currently single, drifting about their space to greet friends and make easy jokes.
I’m hyper aware of the fact that this is all happening live. Nothing’s being edited out for our current viewers, so everyone’s on their best behavior. I keep my chin up and try to force a smile to quell my nerves. Griffin’s steady presence is reassuring— a hand on my lower back, a brush against my shoulder, a gentle kick against my heels.
When we all settle down, the Amadors arrive. They give a big speech about how far we’ve come, how excited they are that everyone could make it today, confirm who’s still together and who isn’t, and finally, blissfully state that the results will be out very soon.
Griffin knocks his shoe against my heels, a steady rhythm to keep me grounded, to remind me that this is just a show and not the end of the world and ultimately, we still have each other. But I can’t deny the fact that we’ve made it far, and winning 100K wouldn’t just be the cherry on top, but the whole goddamn sundae.
Imogen and Zander are seated across from us, Imogen in an emerald dress that makes her eyes pop and Zander in a Banana Republic suit. They level us with a fixed gaze, a hint of amusement at Imogen’s mouth.
I don’t know how anyone could find anything amusing or trivial at a time like this. I figure it’s just Imogen’s entire “I know something you don’t” bit that’s meant to confuse us, unsettle us. I refuse to be swayed.
As our food is brought in, and I take more than a few sips out of my drink to assuage my nerves, Griffin and I monitor the polls. There’s a huge screen at the end of the room that depicts the current polls, and they’ve been shaky since the last challenge was streamed an hour ago.
When the Amadors return, Mila stands up to announce the results of said challenge, and I can practically sense everyone around me leaning forward, holding their breath.
No one expects Mila to announce that the timing was so close, a tie was declared. “We felt it was wrong to declare a grand loser based on a 0.1 second difference.” Which I think is bullshit, and so does everyone else, apparently, because folks begin to groan and snort and make confused grunts. I’m almost certain that Griffin and I won. Griffin was fast, and the hints were precise. Then again, Zander and Imogen have known each other for at least a few months before entering the competition together; that’s plenty of time to figure out each other’s tells and master communication.
“Don’t worry, ladies and gentlemen,” Philip cuts in, “There will be results, and it’ll be in the hands of the voters, as it always has been.”
If I wasn’t on edge before, I’m certainly on edge now.
We get to dinner, but I can hardly eat as I watch the polls. Nothing changes for several minutes, but when there is a change, it’s abrupt.
“What the hell?” Someone calls out.
Griffin and I are losing.
It was an easy thing to do, given the miniscule gap between us and our competitors, but it’s still alarming. I elbow Griffin in the side, but he’s already staring at the screen, mouth parted.
There’s a nudge to my other side where Esme sits. “Hey, you might want to look at this.”
I’m staring at a newspaper article: INSIDER SOURCE CLAIMS LOVEBOUND’S S20 SWEETHEARTS FAKED RELATIONSHIP?
My heart drops as I grab her phone. Griffin’s already peering over my shoulder. “What the hell?”
According to the article, the “insider source” told the press they overheard Griffin and I “plotting” our fake-dating. “What the hell, Imogen?” Griffin’s already asking, but Imogen’s smug resting face has completely disappeared. She’s staring at him like he’s speaking another language. She opens her phone, eyes skimming over what’s probably the article.
“Dude,” she says, looking up at us both. “That wasn’t me.”
A sour feeling settles in my stomach. There’s only one person who ever had the indication that Griffin and I were faking it, outside of our exes. I slowly turn toward Esme, but Esme’s already staring at someone else. And that person is none other than Brody Turner who has suddenly gone very, very pale.
He raises both hands at the accusing gazes throughout the room. “Okay, before anyone gets upset, let me explain”
“What?” I blink.
“Back at the Villa, I did make some speculations, alright? But I didn’t go to the press with it.” Then who did? I know we were all competing, but I can’t imagine anyone being threatened enough by Griffin and I, especially earlier in the show, that they would go to the press. Our room was right next to Brody and Esme’s, so it’d be incredibly easy for either of them to listen in, but that doesn’t explain the article.
Except.
“Zander.” I don’t know if it’s me or Griffin who says his name. Zander carefully maintains his blank expression, but for the first time I start to see cracks.
“You put Brody up to listening in,” I say it as statement, rather than a question.
“Let’s say that’s even true,” Imogen says, “why would Brody listen to Zander in the first place?”
“Because he had dirt,” Griffin says, eyes not leaving Zander’s. “He had dirt on Brody and Imogen’s little affair.”
Zander knew. It’s the type of thing you notice when paying attention, and Zander was always paying attention. When Esme had done the grand expose, he hadn’t even flinched. He’d displayed mild confusion at most, but handled it well, and in hindsight really well for a guy who supposedly just found out he got cheated on.
Brody’s going red.
“Sounds about right?” I ask him.
“Fine,” Brody says. “Zander said if I’d do a little listening to you guys, he’d keep it quiet.”
“Which didn’t matter anyway,” Esme says, putting everything together at the same pace I am, “Because I exposed you in front of everybody.”
“But by then it was too late,” Griffin says before I can. Brody ended up being the big loser anyway. The truth got out, one way or another. Just like Griffin and I’s truth is getting out now.
“We gotta convince them we can’t keep our hands off each other.” Someone reads aloud from the article. “Griffin Andrews allegedly told fellow competitor Vivianna Woods.
My heart is pounding, because the conversation is materializing in my mind. I remember that. I remember that day. Esme had just given me advice on how to “spice things up” with Griffin. Griffin and I were talking over it and made our plan to meet at the hot tub. I stayed back in the pantry, but Griffin left. And when he was walking out, he ran into...
“Shit.”
Brody was there. Right at the doorway. Hell, he had even waved at me when we made eye contact. I hadn’t thought anything of it at the moment, but now it’s all making sense. Brody had been listening in. As soon as Griffin left, Brody ran off to tell Zander. And of course, Zander saved this information to take to the press later on in the competition, when it would really hurt.
I can hear Griffin and I’s voices now, clear as day.
Esme continues reading aloud, “Woods allegedly claimed the ‘strategy’ was recommended to her by fellow competitor Esme Yoon, who she claimed ‘knows how to sell people a fake product.’”
“Damn, she already came up with a strategy?”
“She’s an influencer. She knows how to sell people a fake product.”
And now, we’re going to pay for it. Of course we could deny it. People could chalk up the source to just another jealous competitor, but the details are there, the specifics are there — and worst of all, it’s true. Everyone on live won’t buy any attempts made by Griffin or I to deny these allegations, and at this point, I don’t even know if I want to.
My hands are shaking, and the only thing that gets them to stop is Griffin’s hand on mine.
Zander maintains his poker face as Imogen blinks at him, even her being surprised by his behind-the-scenes work.
I feel a back rub from Esme and condolences from Everleigh and other folks across the table, and spot the Amadors’ confused but absolutely excited expressions—this will be good drama for the show—but my head is swimming. This is what I was afraid of, but I should’ve seen it coming.
Griffin’s hand leaves mine, and my skin goes cold as I watch him rise to his feet.
“What are you doing?” I say with my eyes, and he makes a placating motion with his hands, giving me a wink. I can’t even fathom how he could wink at a time like this. We’ve lost. Even though, truth be told, we haven’t been faking this thing for longer than we’d probably like to admit— as far as everyone else is concerned, this is all a ruse.
I follow Griffin with my eyes as he goes up to the Amadors. They stand talking for a few moments, the Amadors a little confused until they finally nod at a proposition, producer pinning a mic to Griffin’s collar as he makes his way to the front of the room.
“What’s he doing?” Ramona asks from somewhere along the table, and hell if I know. Whatever it is, it’s not something we’ve discussed beforehand.
Regardless, all eyes are on Griffin Andrews as he takes center stage. Producers are loving it; all the cameras are focused on him. Griffin has effectively become the main event.
“First of all,” Griffin says. “That’s my lovely girlfriend right there.”
I’m frozen in place as I receive reassuring albeit confused smiles.
“I’m assuming everyone has seen that article suggesting that Vivianna and I were faking our relationship for clout and money. Because that’s definitely the first time something like that has happened in Lovebound.” There’s some laughter. After all, most of the winning couples break up conveniently about a year after the contract— the show ends.” More laughter, but more apprehensive as the Amadors exchange weary glances. “But they leave with some internet fame, money and attention.
“Anyway, when Vivianna and I started the show, we didn’t have any plans on falling in love. We had plans on winning this damn thing. So, in that way, the article was completely on the mark.” He pauses, lets the statement sink in. “We thought we could get through a show like Lovebound without falling in love.” His eyes briefly stray from the cameras to me. “But love has this funny way of creeping up on you, whether you want it to or not.”
I find my lips tipping upward despite myself.
“And I undoubtedly, completely fell in love with Vivianna Woods. She’s one of the most impressive people I know.” The Amadors coo alongside half of the people in the room and my stomach does a somersault.
“Vivianna was originally going to use half of the money for her clinic, because she’s a vet, and she’s passionate about it, obviously. Because she’s passionate when it comes to just about everything. I was going to get a better apartment, because let’s face it, Manhattan’s rough.” Griffin’s not-jokes about rats in his apartment and his four roommates haven’t been lost on me. He needs a new place. “We had our reasons for being here, for winning this. I’m sure everyone does.” Griffin continues. “Even the person who talked shit about us to the press.” He doesn’t look at Zander, but just about everyone else does.
“But I want all of you to know that Vivianna Woods means the world to me, and has for a hot minute now. And I don’t know, but my understanding was that this show was about love. So, if it’s not obvious how I feel about Vivianna, and how she feels about me— are you really watching the show?”
People clap, none harder than me as Griffin unpins his mic, gives the cameras a charming grin and makes his way down to me.
It’s tough fighting the urge to kiss him, because it’s suddenly become a huge, unignorable desire that almost swallows me up whole.
Griffin grabs his cup. “Can we have a toast?” He asks, looking around. “To us?” His smile to me is so private, it feels as though we’re the only people in the room.
We raise a toast.
From the day I met Griffin Andrews, I knew his charm would prove dangerous. Because at this moment, the money, the polls, the article... everything else falls away. All I can think about is Griffin announcing to the world that he was in love with me.
We’re going to be alright. I think as Griffin settles down next to me and nudges his foot against mine.
We’re going to be alright.
***
When the polls close, everyone is holding their breath. I hold Griffin’s hand tight, both of us watching the votes increase as the gap between us and our competitors decreases. The screen goes black as polling closes.
Everyone sets their phones aside as the Amadors rise to their feet.
We watch as the final votes are calculated. I inhale, exhale, tighten my grip on my boyfriend’s hand. Eventually, the Amadors arrive at the front. Someone in all black and a headset arrives to whisper the results.
The Amadors plaster on their matching Barbie and Ken beams. “With a final 2% lead, the winners of the 20th season of Lovebound are...”
I’m pretty sure Griffin’s hand is going white underneath my grip. I remind myself to breathe. My heart is pounding in my ears. It’s like everyone is hanging off the edge of their seat. It could go either way. In fact, I resign myself to the fact that we probably won’t win, that Imogen and Zander will walk away with the 100K, that the article was too damaging, that maybe Griffin’s speech didn’t save us after all. And I accept it. I’m not paying off the loans for my clinic anytime soon, Griffin won’t buy a new apartment right now. But we’ll figure it out. He can move in with me when his lease expires. He works long days but we’ll see each other daily. We’ll order pizza when we’re too lazy to cook, we’ll cook together on Saturday mornings, he’ll meet Reese, I’ll meet his guys and apologize for stealing him away all the time. We will undeniably, irrefutably be okay.
“Vivianna Woods and Griffin Andrews!”
Griffin jumps to his feet, taking me up with him. I don’t think I’m even processing anything. Not everyone hugging me, not people clapping, not the Amadors’ boisterous laughter, not the camera operators approaching us.
“What?” I ask, dazed. He sweeps me up in his arms before setting me back down on the ground, hands still cradling my waist.
“We won, Vivi!”
“So, you’re getting a new apartment?” I ask. I’m smiling, still not fully able to wrap my head around the money we’ve won.
“We’re getting a new apartment.” Griffin says, eyes sparkling as the producers usher us toward our gigantic check. “And you’re paying off your clinic loans,” Griffin starts. “And we’re going out for dinner tomorrow night.”
“Pizza?” I half-joke. Griffin laughs, and it’s a beautiful sound.
“Way better than pizza.”
“So, you’re in love with me?” I’m asking, as cameras shutter all around us. I think we might just be on top of the world.
In response, Griffin takes my face in his hands and kisses me silly.