“Trust me,” Beck whispers, “we’re eating way better than those two.”
Despite Addison’s permanent scowl, the evening is delightful. The crew takes turns telling stories about former contestants, and there’s everything from the woman who pooped her pants skydiving to the man who was scared of worms. Some mention Erica and how she used to live on set in the early days. They tease her in the way you can only tease someone who you simultaneously fear and admire. Even though I can’t let on how true all their stories and memories ring, I still feel a twinge of pride at simply knowing her.
After dinner, Stacy and I each take a mango on a stick and kick our sandals off before settling onto a beach bed.
Behind us, the drunken crew sets up a karaoke machine, and their songs and laughter bounce off the water like skipping stones. I have to think that the villas are a sort of celebration for them after slogging through the rest of the season.
“Can you keep a secret?” Stacy asks the moment we’re settled.
“My five favorite words,” I tell her.
She downs the rest of her margarita and plants the cup in the sand before leaning back onto the beach bed. “My ex has been watching the show.”
“How do you know he’s been watching?” Though what I’m really thinking is that I’m pretty sure everyone’s exes are watching.
“She.”
“Oh, sorry, I just assumed,” I say, feeling incredibly foolish.
She leans her head toward me and takes a bite out of her mango. “I like who I like, and just FYI, if you weren’t totally in love with Henry, you’d totally be my type.”
“Wait, wait, wait, I have so many questions, but first off, I think if I were in love with Henry, I’d know.”
She gives me a look that says she’s not willing to contest her point.
“Fine,” I say, “we can hash that out later, but first, can we go back to how exactly you know that your ex is watching the show? Do you have secret ties to the outside world that you’re keeping from me?”
She laughs wildly. “I wish my life was that scandalous.”
I cringe a little. If she only knew.
“No, she got wind from some gossip blog that we were headed to New York for filming, and she took the overnight train from Chicago to New York and showed up at our hotel the morning of the fashion show challenge.”
“Ho-ly sh—”
“I know. I was a little bit freaked out but also weirdly endeared by the whole thing. Who doesn’t love a grand gesture?”
“How did she even find you in the city?”
“Her brother is a concierge at the St. Regis. There is not a New York City question he can’t answer or find the answer to. Admittedly, as a librarian I find concierge back channels deeply sexy.”
“That is so very specific.”
“Mmmm.” She moans dramatically. “That sexy, sexy information.”
I nearly choke on a chunk of mango as I snort out a laugh. “Okay, so what exactly did your ex say?”
“She said she’ll be waiting.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, when we left this morning, she was still in my bed.” She bites down on her bottom lip.
I gasp and shoot up right to my feet so I’m hovering above her, standing on the beach bed. “Stacy! You naughty, naughty librarian!”
She hides her face in her hands, and her squeal of excitement turns into a groan.
I sink back down to my knees. “Are you freaking out?”
She nods wordlessly.
“Does it feel like your insides are screaming?” I ask like a doctor listing off possible symptoms.
“God, yes. And the thing is, I haven’t gone on a solo date yet. Chloe hasn’t either. We’re definitely the next to go. Top three is without a doubt you, Sara Claire, and Addison. But I just didn’t want to be the girl who left because of her ex. The internet would slut shame me the same way they are doing with Anna.”
“Oh no,” I say. “Did your ex say if it was bad?”
She nods. “Taylor said the Twitter buzz was harsh.”
Selfishly, I nearly ask her what she’s heard about me. The bits of information I’ve received from Beck have only made me hungry for more, but Stacy is a woman in crisis.
“Anyway,” she says, “back to you and Henry. It’s pretty obvious that you two are all moony for each other.”
I make a scoffing noise. Nothing here is obvious. Trying to decipher who has genuine feelings and who doesn’t is harder than scoping out a fake pair of Louboutins from two blocks away. Even Addison, who is absolutely batshit, might be acting the way she is because she’s lovesick. There’s no way to know for sure.
“Did you hear Sara Claire on the way here?” she asks. “She sat there the whole time making a pros-and-cons list, trying to talk herself into falling for Henry. He’s not even her type!”
“How do you know her type?” I ask. “Her type could be Stanley Tucci for all we know.”
“Actually,” Stacy says, “Stanley Tucci is everyone’s type.”
I nod in solidarity. “Amen.”
“But really, Sara Claire’s type is a guy who grills. And wants to take care of a pool and wears cowboy boots with tuxedos.”
“Henry probably owns a grill,” I say.
She arches a single brow. “But does he introduce himself as the grill master to guests? Important distinction.”
I shake my head. “No, definitely not.”
“You two make sense.”
Thrill pulses through me at that. Henry and I could make sense. Someone else sees it.
“It’s, like, the most fashionable happily-ever-after. TV gold and IRL gold. But that’s not what’s important. Do you like him? It really seems like it.”
I lie back on my side and face her with my hands tucked under my cheek. “I…sometimes I feel like I don’t even know him, and other times I feel so in sync with him that I could predict the next word out of his mouth. But when we’re…” I hesitate for a moment before deciding not to tell her we’ve been alone together. I know I can trust Stacy, but being on this show has me feeling like I can never be sure of my footing. “When we’re simpatico, it’s like when you meet someone new and you should be freaked out by how much you like them, but you’re too in it to care.”
“What would you do if he proposed at the end of all this?”
It’s a possibility. And happens more often than not during the finale. I can’t imagine saying no, but I can’t see myself saying yes either. Everything around me seems to be shifting. I graduated. I moved. Erica moved. I was creatively blocked for so long, and I can feel something in my brain becoming slowly unstuck. Like all this frenetic movement has forced something loose. And now this new possible future with Henry and a real chance for us to get to know each other in the real world.
But despite all that, there’s some kind of hesitation in the pit of my stomach. A shadow of guilt for moving on to this next phase of my life without Mom and Dad. In many ways, college felt like an extension of high school, but that’s gone now, and I’m not a child anymore.
I shake my head finally. “I don’t know. All I know is I don’t want it to end.”