Bucky's Boo

“Have sex with me-“

“Yeah, I- I heard you the first time, that’s not-“ Dean shakes his head, running a hand over his face. “It’s eight in the fuckin’ morning-“

“It’s eight fifteen.”

That earns you a flat look, and you smile innocently.

“That’s fifteen extra minutes, it matters-“

“Not for this. And- I ain’t even showered yet-“

Your nose wrinkles. “Why haven’t you showered?”

“I shower after coffee,” Dean mutters, turning his mug in his hands. “If I don’t, Sammy’s stinkin’ up the kitchen from his run.”

“Oh- Okay.” You clasp your hands behind your back, peering at his tight jaw, his mussed, soft-looking hair. “Is that… A yes?”

Dean’s eyes widen on yours. You’re worried he’s going to choke on the air this time. “Yes?”

“Are you going to have sex with me,” you clarify, and his mouth falls open.

“I- I’m- You’re-“ His throat bobs, and he starts to look around the room with a worried squint. “Are you fuckin’ with me?”

You frown. “Why would I be fucking with you?”

“’Cause, sweetheart, you can’t just-“ He lets out a sharp breath. “Is it Sam? Did he put you up to this? ‘Cause I told him- That kinda prank, it’s off the table-“

“What kind of prank?” You’re a little lost, and there’s shame starting to burn up your neck.

A prank. He thinks it’s a prank.

It’s not. You’re so serious it’s almost embarrassing. You wouldn’t have asked him if you weren’t. You’d almost talked yourself out of it, after spending too much time convincing yourself into it. Nights of tossing and turning in bed, an insatiable and aching heat between your legs and the sheets bunched around you in a mockery of a body. Weeks of watching the boys slip out of bars with women that seemed to fall into them like magnets while you spun around, alone on a barstool without any prospects.

Months, of watching Dean with a flush he never saw. An adoration written all over your face he didn’t seem capable of noticing. You’d tried to stomp it out. Your stupid, useless little crush. Dean was older. Seasoned and desirable in the way that made you wonder if he was even real sometimes. Out of your reach, tantalizing, and impossible to just forget about. 

You’d neglect your feelings in the hope they’d die, but he’d water them until they were in full bloom and overtaking your heart and mouth and head. He’d buy the snacks you like and let you chose the movie. He’d open doors and let his hand linger on your lower back, he’d smile at you in the dim light of the Impala and make you feel like the only person in the world, he’d call you when he was away on a separate hunt every single night, just to update you. He’d play wrestle you for the remote, and somehow never manage to wonder why he always won when he’d see you take down men closer to Sam’s size with barely a grunt of effort.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he’d whisper in your ear, when he had you pinned on the floor beneath him, and you’d have to swallow down your moan.

He’d get up, turn on the TV, and leave you on the couch while he went to the bathroom. You’d sit with your knees to your chest and your breathing uneven, unable to focus on anything but the ghost of his body over yours. The heat of him, the way his arms had caged you in, his knee pressed far too close to your neglected core.

If Dean knew how you dreamed about him—how those moments followed you into bed, every single night—you’re so sure he’d never look at you again. He doesn’t see you like that, you’re sure. You’re the kid they took in, the annoying girl who’s got too much mouth on her and not enough experience, in every possible way.

You’ve never done sex. You sort of just missed the window, where it’s supposed to happen, and then it became too big a deal, then you met Dean and you were lost. What was the point of being with anyone else, when you had his shoulder bumping yours in the hallway. When you were so hopelessly in love with him, you think your heart might beat out of your chest like a cartoon every time you see him.

So you made a choice, a few weeks ago. A choice it took a lot of courage to work yourself up to following through on

You just need to have sex. With someone. Anyone. Preferably Dean. It just needs to be done and over with—one time, where he doesn’t know he’s taking your virginity, where he’s peacefully oblivious of your worship of his very existence—and then you can try to move on. Once you’ve had sex, it won’t be this big monster you shy away from anymore. It’ll just be another thing.

So you’re asking Dean. Outside of your alternate motivations, it’s a sound strategic call. You know about his prowess. He’s bragged to you about all his five-star reviews. And maybe that always made you gag over a toilet bowl after, but if it did, that’s none of his fucking business.

Maybe you’re not up to par with his usual partners, but you can do your makeup, or he can turn off the lights, or whatever else makes it easier for him. Anything that makes him touch you. You won’t even cry about it in front of him.

But he thinks it’s a prank. Why would he think it’s a prank.

“You know,” he says, watching you wearily. “Sammy gives you a tenner, you come and ask me for sex, everyone gets a good laugh at Dean. Good joke. Classy.”

You wrap your arms around your stomach, shrinking slightly into yourself. “It’s not a joke,” you mumble. “I- I was serious.”

“You were serious?”

He says it like it’s insane. You shrug, fixing your gaze on the floor. A joke. He thinks fucking you would be a joke.

“Sweetheart-“

“You don’t have to,” you take a step back, trying to sound casual. Like your heart isn’t being torn to ribbons.

You really hadn’t expected him to leap at the opportunity, but this is so close to cruel it hurts. Tears are threatening your eyes, and a lump is forming in your throat. Pathetic, a voice spits in your head. Why the fuck would he ever want to fuck you.

“Wait, just- Hold on-“

You look up, faster than you want to admit. Dean staring at you with pale face and slack jaw, throat working like he’s swallowing his own words every second. You wait, because you’re a fucking useless idiot. Bouncing nervously on your feet—they’re smarter than the rest of you, they want to run—and trying not to melt under his gaze.

“You’re actually askin’ me to fuck you?” He rasps, and you nod.

It’s the tiniest motion of your head. Dean shifts in his seat, staring at you with wide, dark eyes.

“Why?”

“Why?” You frown, saying the first, easiest, least embarrassing reason that pops into your head. “Because- You- You’re good at it?”

“I’m good at it,” Dean repeats. “You wanna fuck me ‘cause you think I’d be good at it?”

You wish he’d stop saying fuck like that. With a harsh ending and low drawl. “I don’t think,” you offer. “You’re the one who said you would be.”

Dean’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t look amused. “I could be lying, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think you are.”

He stares at you. His eyes flick up to the ceiling—maybe he still thinks he’s on a prank show—and he lets out a sharp, slow breath from his nose.

Then he shakes his head, and you feel the echo of your heart as it howls in pain.

“No,” he mutters. “I ain’t- Doin’ that. Not just ‘cause you- No.”

You blink at him, the world blurring a little. You stumble back, and Dean says your name, moving to his feet. You shake your head, moving back another step. Your eyes are stinging with tears, but that’s not his problem. He’s allowed to reject you. You’re also allowed to cry about it.

“Sweetheart-“

“It’s fine.” Your voice is too high. Too wobbly. “It’s- That’s okay.”

“No, just- Fuck-“ He rubs his jaw. “Listen to me, alright-“

“You don’t have to explain,” you shrug weakly. “It’s okay.”

Dean gives you a disbelieving look, but you move further back before he can try to make you feel better about the rejection. It’s not going to help.

“I’ll just-“ You look over your shoulder. To the door, just one more step back.

Dean says your name again. When you look back, he’s reaching to you, trying to beckon you back into the kitchen. You smile, tight and watery.

“Thank you for your consideration.” You say, because you’re a fucking idiot. Dean certainly looks at you like you’re one.

You flee the kitchen. He calls your name again, but this time you don’t look back.

Rejection is fine. You’re fine. You’re so fine, you lock yourself in your room for the rest of the day and eat so much ice cream your stomach hurts. Because it’s fun. It’s fun to cry over something you never even had.

At least you anticipated this. You have a very solid plan B.

If Dean won’t sleep with you, you’re going to find someone who will. You’re going to get it over with. This week.

You’re learning something about yourself.

You are not good at flirting.

The first thing you try is the bars. Sam and Dean slide into a booth, and you go to get the drinks. A guy makes eyes at you, and you smile sweetly in return. When you bring the drinks back, you set the beers down in front of the boys and turn back on your heels to give the bar-guy a shot.

Dean says your name, and you freeze. You always do that for him. It’s a habit you don’t think you’re able to break.

“Where’re you going?” He frowns at you, one arm slung around the back of the seat. Around where you’d usually sit.

“Bar,” you say lamely, and the lines on his face deepen.

“Why, you forget something?”

“No.”

“Then what-“

Dean cuts himself off, his gaze flicking over your shoulder. To the bar. To the man, waiting for you with a smirk, because you promised you’d be back.

Dean grunts your name, low and rough, and if he asked you to stay, you don’t think you’d be able to tell him no.

Things have been strange, since the kitchen. Neither of you have brought it up, and Dean hasn’t stopped treating you the way he always has, but there’s something charged beneath it. A live wire that frays and crackles, every time your fingers brush or your eyes meet. You’ve caught him staring at you with an open mouth a few times. Last week he tried to talk to you, alone in the Impala while Sam got snacks from a gas station. You announced that you had to shit, and scrambled out of the car.

You don’t want to talk about it, and Dean has no right to make you. He’s not the one who got his heart broken. He’s not the one who sort of wants to cry, whenever your eyes meet.

He certainly has no right to glare at you, when he puts together what you’re doing. He said he wasn’t going to sleep with you, and you’re a grown woman. You can, if you so please, have casual sex with a stranger. It is your right.

“You can’t be for real, sweetheart-“

“Dean.” Sam stares at his own beer, looking like he wants to vanish into the floor, and Dean scowls.

“C’mon, Sammy- Tell her she’s being crazy-“

“Crazy?” You snap, and Dean leans back in surprise. “You fuck around all the time, how is it crazy that I’d do the same thing?”

“It’s not- You just- You don’t-“ He swallows. “You don’t do this-“

“I do now.”

“Sweetheart, just- Sit down-“

You flip him off, and march back to the bar before he can ask with a little more conviction. You just need to break out of his orbit. To force yourself to realize that there are plenty of other men, and not having Dean isn’t the end of the universe.

Unfortunately, you sort of just keep proving the opposite.

“What’s a pretty little thing doin’ in a place like this?” The first guy at the bar asks, and you fumble.

You have no idea. You giggle nervously and spin in your chair, speaking words you can’t really hear. He seems into it—no matter how pathetic you must be coming off—until his fingers brush your arm, and you flinch back because his skin is cold. It sends a shiver up your spine that’s not the hot rush of Dean’s touch, but the sliver of a snake.

You go home alone that night, and you don’t look Dean in the eyes. He tries to talk to you, before you retreat to your room. You ignore him, because that’s the only way this is going to work. 

But you try again and again and again, and you never get anywhere. They always touch you, and it all falls apart. You look at them too long, and you can’t manage to squeeze them into a Dean shaped hole in your heart, and there’s no way forward. You try dating apps. That goes worse. Every dick pic you get sent just makes you wonder if sex is even something you want. They’re all worm-shaped and ugly. At least dildos come in nice colors. Maybe you should just buy a dildo.

No. You’ll just pretend it’s Dean all the time, and that’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to be doing here.

So you keep trying. And you keep failing. And Dean’s been looking at you weird—brow pinched and jaw set, every single night—and you’re getting desperate and fuck it.

“Sam.”

Sam hums, not looking up from his book. You clear your throat, leaning further over the table.

“Sam.”

“I’m listening, what’s-“

“Have sex with me.”

Sam, to his credit, doesn’t choke. He just goes very, very still, and looks up at you with an expression close to horror. He says your name slowly, and you shake your head, holding up a single hand.

“Just- Listen-“

“No?” Sam gapes at you. “I’m not- I’m not going to listen to that- Jesus Christ-“

“Come on, we could turn off the lights, and- I wouldn’t make it weird-“

“It’s already weird-“

“You’d be doing me a favor-“

“I’d be making a death wish!” Sam’s voice drops to a hiss. “Dean would fucking kill me.”

 You roll your eyes. “Then don’t tell him, dumbass.”

“No, I- I’m not doing that.” Sam shakes his head, like he’s trying to jolt the image free. “To you. Or him.”

“To him?” You narrow your eyes. “I- What the fuck would this do to Dean?”

Sam gives you a puppy-eyed, hopeless look. “I… Can’t say.”

“Sam Winchester-“

“Why are you asking me?” Sam whines. “I’m not- You’re not even into me-“

“Exactly, there would be no strings attached-“

“That’s not healthy-“

“Fuck off, like you don’t have casual sex-“

“I mean, I do, but I’m not-“ Sam cuts himself off, sighing dramatically. “Just- Why would you even want to have sex with me?”

You flush, but shrug. It’s just Sam. It’s easier to tell him than Dean. “I want to get it over with.”

“Get it over with?” Sam echoes. “It- You mean sex?”

You nod, and Sam blinks.

“Are you a virgin?”

“Maybe.”

“You- You’re-“

“Don’t be an asshole-“

“No, I’m not- I mean- It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. It actually-“ Sam frowns at the air. “It makes sense, I guess.”

That makes you scowl. “It makes sense?”

Sam shrugs, giving you an apologetic smile, and you can’t even think of an argument. You sigh, your shoulders slumping, and Sam clears his throat.

“You know I’m not going to sleep with you, right?”

“Yeah.” You sigh, and he nods slowly.

“Does Dean-“

“No.” You point a stern finger at him, and Sam raises his hands in surrender.

“I think you should-“

“Sam. I’ll cut your balls off.”

“I- Okay.”

You give him one last glare, and go to leave. But before you can go, the question scratches up your throat. You turn around, hands tucked behind your back, and speak softly. “Would you?”

Sam blinks. “What?”

“If you didn’t- Know me,” you mumble. “If we weren’t like- Friends. And you just met me, and I asked you- Would you?”

Sam snorts, and you scowl.

“I’m serious-“

“Yeah, I know you are.” Sam’s lips twitch. “It’s just- Yeah. I would. Of course I would.”

You stand a little taller. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean- You know you’re attractive, right? If you just didn’t, like, annoy me. I’d be in.”

“I do not annoy you-“

“You’re annoying me right now.”

You laugh despite yourself. Sam smiles, his voice dropping to something gentler.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you,” he says your name slowly. “I just- Don’t want to be lucky.”

You huff in amusement—if Sam isn’t lying, aversion to luck is a family trait—but dip your head. “Thanks. I think.”

“You’re welcome. And-“ Sam pauses, looking you up and down with a strange expression. “I’m sure the whole- Thing will work out for you. There are… People. I think you’re going to figure it out.”

“You need to sleep with her.”

Dean needed to stop drinking coffee when people walked into the kitchen. This was the second shirt he’d ruined in as many months, and it was because everyone kept saying crazy fucking shit.

“Sammy, what the fuck-“

Sam said your name, and Dean’s hands fisted on the table.

Again. Son of a bitch, he was about to go through this again. The first time had been bad enough. You’d looked at him with glossy, hopeful eyes, practically begged for him to fuck you, and Dean had wondered if he’d died in his sleep last night and been dragged back to hell. Forced to experience some new kind of torture Crowley was developing, where everything he’d ever wanted was just a stretch away from his fingertips, and he wasn’t allowed to take it.

He had to be the noble one here. The wise, old asshole who didn’t take advantage of you. Taking you up on that offer would be one of the worst things he’d ever done. It would be selfish, and cruel, and a worse fate than anything else. To get what he wanted, for one night, then never fucking have it again. To get hooked—because he would, he fucking knew he’d never be able to kiss and touch you once then go back to just living—and turn into an addict willing to do anything to get another hit.

Dean would’ve turned into a bigger creep than he already was. Instead of stares and long, shameful showers with his cock in his hand and your name on his lips, he’d stuff your panties in his pocket and press them to his nose while he fucked himself raw. He’d get possessive, he’d snarl at anyone else who got to close, he’d fall to his knees and beg you to stay if you ever decided you had enough of him.

And he knew that last thing was going to happen eventually. You had a whole life ahead of you, and he was stuck here. In this dim bunker with blood on his hands and under his feet and staining his past and future all at once. He swam in a river of it. In front of him, behind him, washing over him all the time, there was just fucking blood. You deserved better than that. Better than Dean. You deserved the fucking world.

So he’d told you no, and you’d looked at him like a wet fucking kitten he’d kicked into the rain, but it had been for your own good. You’d get over it. Dean was the one who had to watch you flirt with douchebags at the bar. Who couldn’t get in another bed anymore, because he kept getting kicked out for moaning your name.

He was the one who was rooted here forever. You’d find something softer. Something good.  He’d accepted that, with a lot of beer pushing it down. You’d find something better, and that was what he wanted.

Sammy knew all that. Dean had gotten drunk once and confessed his stupid, undying feelings, then sworn Sam to secrecy in the morning. He’d kept his word, only shooting Dean sad looks whenever you went off to flirt and smirking whenever Dean called you on a hunt.

But now he was asking Dean to sleep with you. Like he’d lost his damn mind.

“No,” he grunted, and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Look, Dean, I get that you’re being cool and righteous and whatever-“

“I’m not fuckin’ her, Sammy- I shouldn’t.” He shot Sam a glare. “You know why I shouldn’t.“

“Yeah, well, I think your why is pretty stupid.” Sam said flatly. “You’ve never even asked her if she’d be- You know. Open to it-“

“I know she’d be open to it,” Dean scowled at his coffee. “But that’s- I ain’t doing it, Sammy. Never.” Not like that.

Sam was silent for a moment. When Dean looked up, he was staring at him with wide eyes. “She asked you first, didn’t she.”

Dean frowned. “What’d you mean, asked me first-“

“To take her virginity.”

He hadn’t taken a sip of coffee again. This time, he managed to choke on nothing at all. “To- What?”

Sam leaned back slightly. “Did she not ask you to sleep with her?”

“No, she did, I just didn’t fuckin’- She’s a virgin?”

“I guess,” Sam shrugged. “You know that’s not a big deal, right?”

Dean grunted. His head was spinning. Of course it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t care. He’d wanted you before, he wanted you now, that wasn’t the fucking issue.

But you’d asked him.

You’d asked him to fuck you. You’d wanted him to- Do it. Take it. Pop it, whatever. You’d chosen Dean, to be the guy, and he’d told you no, and then you’d started flirting around with other people, and you could’ve ended up with someone dangerous, someone who took advantage of you, who thought your inexperience was hot for all the wrong reasons and hurt you and-

Dean paused. He looked at Sam. Sam blinked, and Dean’s eyes narrowed.

“How the fuck do you know that.”

Sam swallowed, taking a small step back. “Uh…”

“Sam-“

“She might’ve… Asked me.”

“She what-“

“I said no!” Sam said quickly. “I told her I wouldn’t. But- You know.” Sam cleared his throat. “If you’d said yes to her the first time…”

Sam gave him a pointed look. He was asking to get punched in the fucking face.

“No.”

“Dean, just-“

“No. I’m not takin’ advantage of her, Sammy, I’m not-“

 “It’s not taking advantage of her if she wants it!”

“She doesn’t want it-“

Sam snorted. “Oh, fuck off.”

Dean blinked, leaning back in his chair. Sam turned a little red, wincing at himself, but didn’t back down.

“Wow, Sammy. Big claws, huh.”

Sam sighed, running a hand over his face. “Dean… Just- Think about her, okay?”

Dean almost laughed. “All I fuckin’ do is think about her-“

“Then think a little harder.” Sam said flatly. “Before both of you get actually hurt.”

Dean didn’t have an answer to that. Sam didn’t seem to be asking for one. He turned and walked out of the room, leaving Dean alone. With only his coffee mug and thoughts for company. A dangerous thing to do. Dean could talk himself into and out of almost anything, if the logic police weren’t there to stop him.

He was going to do something really fucking stupid and selfish, and it was all Sam’s fault.

“Come in!” You call to the knock on your door, glancing up from your laptop as the door creaks open.

Dean shuffles into your room with his head bowed. Your face heats, and you slam the laptop closed. He doesn’t need to see you scrolling through hookup websites and think any lower of you. You’re already losing sleep over the worry you’ve fractured something between you beyond repair.

“Hi,” you whisper, and he swallows.

“Uh- Hey.”

“Hi.” What the fuck is wrong with you.

Dean’s lips twitch. “Hey.”

You start to pull the sheets between your fingers, trying not to ogle him too obviously. He’s wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and it’s sexier than all the profile pics you’ve spent hours staring at. His hair is a mess, and there are bags under his eyes, and you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to climb over him more.

“You, uh-“ He glances at your computer. “You busy?”

“No- No.” Never for him. You shove your computer onto your bedstand, moving to sit on your knees. “What’s up?”

Dean’s throat bobs. He runs a hand through his hair, huffing something close to a laugh, and shakes his head. “Jesus.”

“What-“

“Nothin’.” He clears his throat, giving you a strange look. “Did you ask Sam to sleep with you?”

Your mouth falls open. You almost trip sitting down. “I- I didn’t-“

“You didn’t?”

“No, I mean- I- He wasn’t supposed to tell you,” you whine, avoiding Dean’s stare. “I didn’t- Fuck-“

“Hey- It’s- Woah-“

Dean crosses the room in a few strides, grabbing your wrists with firm, warm hands. You’d started to pick at your nails with the anxiety. You hadn’t even realized it.

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” he mutters, his thumb dragging a circle on your wrist.

You nod, your voice only a breath. “Okay.”

He’s so close. You can count all his crow’s feet, map his stubble, trace his lips with just your eyes. He’s still frowning at your wrist, so you allow yourself to stare.

Then he looks up. And you freeze in panic, but don’t manage to look away.

Dean’s tongue flicks over his lips. Your breath catches. Neither of you move, and you let yourself have it. For a single second, you imagine that Dean is here, in your room, on your bed, and that means something. You get lost in the warmth of his proximity, the calloused but soft feeling of his touch.

“Sammy told me something else,” Dean mutters, scanning over your slack, flushed features.

“Yeah?” You whisper, and he nods tightly.

“Yeah. Said you’re, uh-“ He clears his throat. “Said you’ve never- You know.” He cringes. “Been fucked.”

Your mouth falls open. You think you’d like to die now. “Dean-“

“Is that why you asked me?” His grip tightens on your wrist. Not allowing you to pull away. “’Cause you just wanted someone to take it?”

You drop your gaze to his crotch. There’s a soft bulge there. You’d drool over it, if you didn’t think you were going to explode any second now. 

Dean says your name, and you shake your head.

“Don’t,” you mumble. “Don’t just- Feel bad for me- You said no, that’s- It’s fine-“

“What if it’s not.”

Your eyes shoot up. You’d think he was joking, if he didn’t look so fucking serious. His jaw is set. His eyes are blown out and fixed on yours. Your mouth hangs stupidly open, and Dean smiles softly.

“Huh?” You manage to choke out, and he almost chuckles.

“What if I wanted to. Help you.”

“But-“ You blink. “You don’t.”

Dean shakes his head. “Wrong, sweetheart. I do-“

“You said you didn’t-“

“I lied.”

You stare at him. He doesn’t back down.

“Would it mean something?” He muttered, reaching up to trace the curve of your cheek. “If I did it?”

You nod weakly, leaning into his touch. It sends violent, hot shivers through your whole body. Almost like a fever. You don’t want the cure. “Would it matter to you?” You ask, and Dean’s eyes flash. His fingers curl on your cheek. He leans an inch forward, then another inch. Your lips brush, the lightest possible touch, and you let out a soft, uncertain whine.

Dean pushes forward, his lips fully crashing into yours, his kiss demanding but certain. He presses over you, pulling you a little further up on your knees. You grab the collar of his shirt for balance, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to kiss him back with as much fervor as he’s offering you.

“De- Dean-“ You gasp against his lips. “Dean-“

He groans, his arm sliding around your back so he can pull you tight to his chest. You melt into his arms, and his kisses turn messy. Open mouthed and rough, his tongue dragging over your teeth as his fingers dig into your hips. You run out of air fast, but don’t try and pull away. You don’t want this to ever end, and you’re afraid that if you dare to break the moment, it will never be repaired.

High gasps start to escape your throat, though, and Dean pulls away. He cups your face between his hands, frowning slightly, and presses his brow against yours. You struggle for air, almost pressing forward to try and kiss him again, but he holds you in place.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he mutters, rough and thick. It’s the same voice he uses on you during hunts. When he’s giving an order you didn’t ask for.

Usually, you protest or ignore him. Right now you’re putty in his hands. He could tell you to follow him to hell, and you would. You’d do anything, just for him to never let go.

You inhale unevenly, and Dean rubs your upper back. His hand slipped under your shirt, and his palm is broad and warm. It—annoyingly—helps a lot.

“There you go,” he murmurs, watching you under hooded eyes. “That’s a good girl.”

You whine again. “Dean-“

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

He doesn’t fucking look sorry. His lips are twitching, and there’s a smug glint in his eyes that’s almost dangerously intoxicating.

“Better?” He asks, and you nod, slumping closer to his chest. He doesn’t push you away.

This might be real.

“Are you sure, ‘bout this?” Dean rasps, and you almost giggle.

“Yes.”

“I’m old, sweetheart-“

“I like it.”

Dean blinks, and you stutter, so sure you should shut up but not really sure how.

“I- I mean- I like you, so- I don’t care if you’re old- I like you old- I like you-“

Dean smirks, holding your face so firmly against his  you can’t shy away.

“You- Can you- I mean- If it’s just- Just sex- You can forget I said- I think you being old is hot-“

He finally takes mercy, and shuts you up with a long, rough kiss. You hum, pushing further up on your knees, and climb slowly into Dean’s lap. He sucks on your lower lip, angling your head back as your core settles against his bulge, then pulls back with a low sigh.

“Not just sex,” he mutters, dragging his thumb over your swollen lower lip. “Not with you, baby.”

You nod, smiling wider than you probably should. “Cool.”

Dean grins back. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool ‘cause you like me,” he teases, shoving your hips down, right over his crotch. “Of ‘cause I’m old.”

You face burns. All you can do is stare and him and whimper, “You’re spritely.”

Dean huffs, in disbelieving amusement. “Spritely? You think I’m-“

“Youthful,” you babble quickly. “You’ve got a lot of…” You flush as he stares at you, sort of wishing he’d just kiss you and shut you up. “Youth.”

Dean’s mouth curves up. “Youth, huh.”

You nod, and he chuckles, pressing the lightest kiss over your lips.

“Hurts when I bend over now, honey, don’t think that’s very youthful of me.”

“So don’t bend over,” you mumble, and Dean snorts.

“Demanding, aren’t we?”

You shrug, trying not to turn into a puddle and miserably failing. Dean kisses your cheek, then under your eye, tracing his mouth down so he breath tickles your ear.

“Mouthy and demanding,” he rubs your hips, dragging your hips back and forth across his crotch. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix that.”

You whimper, and Dean’s grin grows.

“You like that, huh.”

“Dean-“

“Ah,” he kisses the corner of your mouth, moving away before you can chase his lips. “You wanted my help. This is how I’m gonna help, baby. Takin’ real good care of you,” he thrusts his hips up, and you whine as the hard outline of his cock hits your clothed pussy. “Just like this.”

 You nod, pressing your face into the crook of Dean’s neck. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on. It’s different, with Dean’s hands wandering your sides and his voice right in your ear. Your heart pounds and everywhere gets slick with sweat and arousal, just his dirty talk reducing you to a heap of confused nerves. Dean’s lips drag over your jaw, and you curl further around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he nips at your throat.

“Just gotta do what I tell you, alright?” He mutters, squeezing a handful of your ass. “Can you do that, baby? Do it for me?"

You nod quickly, and Dean chuckles against your skin.

“Eager,” he drawls, pushing his fingers slowly under the hem of your shorts. “Eager and soft.”

He squeezes your ass again, his fingers brushing against the edge of your pussy. You grind backwards, trying to push him to where you need him so very desperately. He lets you, teasing his fingers over the lips of your pussy, and you whine in his ear.

“Sit still,” he grunts, and you have to bite your lower lip, but you force your hips to come to a stop.

It earns you a sharp slap of your ass, and a kiss on the side of your head. Worth it.

“That’s right,” he mutters, letting those thick fingers dance back over your cunt.  “Good work, baby girl. You fuckin’ love the attention, don’t you. Eager to please me, eager to make me proud.”

You swallow, hugging him so tight you’re a little worried you’ll choke him. Dean doesn’t even flinch. He dips two fingers into the wetness of your heat and groans right in your ear, spreading the arousal everywhere between your thighs.

“If you’re gonna hide that pretty face,” he grunts in your ear. “At least fuckin’ kiss me.”

Nervously, you wander your lips over the strong curve of his shoulders, the arch of his neck. Dean moans in your ear, his cock jumping in his jeans. His fingers keep wandering near and around your pussy, and you get a little bolder. Kissing up his jaw, over his cheek, the top of his lip. You’re panting, trying to focus on your job as Dean keeps pulling and teasing you with his touch.

“Shit,” he moans your name, tracing around your flutter entrance. “That’s it, baby, just like that-“

 Dean grabs your jaw with his free hand, like he can’t fucking help himself, and slams his lips against yours. You squeak in surprise, but kiss him back, grinding down onto his hand. His fingers dip inside of you for a moment, and you moan. Dean grunts and shoves those fingers inside of you.

Your mouth falls open, your eyes widening at the thick, pleasurable stretch. He feels so good, so fucking right, you’re worried his cock might kill you.

“Look at you,” Dean coos, smirking at your slack face. “Just my fuckin’ fingers, baby. Keep breathin’, or this is all we’re doing tonight.”

You take a deep breath, sharp and sudden, and Dean smirks in approval.

“Good girl,” he pushes his fingers a little deeper, scissoring them and bumping against a spot that makes your whole body jerk.

“Dean-“

“Shh,” he kisses you, crooking his fingers to rub against that hidden button, and you mewl against his lips. “You feel that, baby?”

“Mmm- Mhm.” You press your cheek against his, eyes fluttering as Dean keeps pushing and tickling deep inside you. “Feels good.”

“I know it does, sweet girl,” he wraps his hand back around your neck, guiding your brow to press back against his. “It’s that special little spot, gonna make everything feel good.”

His words are sweet and mocking all at once, and it sends a new gush of arousal between your legs. You watch him with wide, clouded eyes, and Dean’s smile softens for a single second. He kisses you, more gentle than before, and pulls his fingers slowly out of your cunt.

“Lie down,” he whispers before you can protest, and you swallow, but obey.

Dean hums in approval, rubbing a massive hand on your thigh.

“Everything off,” he says, and you go still.

“Everything?”

“Mhm,” he raises his brows at your flushed expression. “That gonna be a problem?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach. You don’t want to disappoint him, but he’s going to see you. Really, fully see you. God, you really don’t want him to see you and change his mind, and-

“Hey,”  Dean takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You want my help?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe, and that’s all it takes. 

Dean rips off his shirt first—makin’ it even, he says—then makes quick work of his jeans. You don’t get more than a second to marvel him—flushed, tanned chest and thick everything, and heavy cock that does not look like a worm—before he’s touching you. He shimmies your shorts down, then peels your shirt over your head, leaving you in only your underwear. For a moment he just admires you, palming his cock with a tiny grin, and you roll onto your stomach.

Dean laughs, tapping your ass with a single finger. “Gettin’ shy, baby?”

“Shut up-“

“Ah.” He drags that finger down your clothed pussy. “Who tells who what to do?”

Your face burns, and you press your face further into the pillows. Dean chuckles, and you feel the bed shift as he crawls over your body. You can feel the heat coming off of him, feel the drag of his cock somewhere near your ass as he whispers in your ear.

“You were doin’ so well,” he drawls, unhooking your bra with a single hand. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

It doesn’t help. You keep grinding, trying to get some friction with the sheets. Dean’s hand comes down on your pussy with one, sharp smack, and you squeal, pushing back against his hand.

“Needy fuckin’ baby,” he mocks. “Can’t even help it, can you. Still tryin’ to be good for me.”

He hooks two fingers around your panties, pulling them tight so they push against your clit. You push back against his hand, and he smirks against your ear.

“You want a little more?”

You nod, and he snaps the fabric down, sending a tiny shock through your body.

“Say please-“

“Please,” you gasp, moving your arms up to hide your face. “Please, Dean- More- Oooh-“

Dean’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles. Your words fall off, and he fists a hand in your hair, tugging your head back to allow him to kiss you again.

He’s not cruel, with how he touches you. He’s generous, but controlled. Every stroke of your clit is deliberate, making your head spin and your mouth fall further open. That seems to be exactly how he wants you, though, because he pushes his tongue further down your throat and flicks his thumb back and forth, working you up into a writhing frenzy.

When his fingers finally push back inside of you, Dean almost seems unwilling to pull back and stop kissing you. You’re bent back and pliant under him, whimpering happily as he feeds his fore and middle finger into your hole.

“Greedy little pussy,” he rasps against your lips. “Know you’re gonna strangle my cock, baby, son of a bitch-"

He groans, like he’s the one being fingered into oblivion. He’s set a harsh pace with his wrist, snapping his fingers in and out of your cunt without relent. His thumb moved away from your clit, replaced by the heel of his palm, rubbing in tight, unrelenting circles on your swollen clit.

Every single time, he hits that spot inside of you, and your head is starting to get light. All the electricity and heat in your body is pushing down into your core, building like a bomb and threatening to explode. You almost sob, with how overwhelming the sensation is. Dean notices, kissing you a little softer.

“Poor girl,” he mutters. “Already like this and I’m not even properly fuckin’ you.”

“Your- Your hands,” you push out the word between sharp breaths. “They’re big.”

Dean grunts, his cock jumping near your ass. “Yeah, sweetheart? You like how fuckin’ big my hands are?”

“Mh- Mhm.”

You try to kiss him again. He pulls back, moving his hand impossibly faster against your cunt.

“Words,” he grunts. “You’re not stupid enough to not speak, not yet.”

“Like it,” you breathe out. “Love- Love it, Dean, oh- Oh my god-“

You moan again, and Dean grunts. His hips are starting to jerk near your ass, making him rut against you as his fingers work.

“Your close,” he mutters, pressing his fingers fully inside and crooking them against that gooey spot. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Now.”

His voice must have some kind of supernatural power over you, because that pressure in your lower tummy bursts, and your orgasm rips through you link a hurricane. Your thighs clench, trapping Dean’s hand between your legs, and he groans, rubbing his fingers harsher and harsher against your g-spot. You’re shaking and rolling beneath him, and he has to grab the back of your neck and pin it down to keep you still.

Dean works you through your orgasm, whispering low praise in your ear as you float back down to earth. Your pussy feels empty, when his fingers finally pull away. Your eyes are slightly crossed, and your smile is dazed and a little stupid.

You don’t even squeak, when Dean grabs your thigh and flips you over. You keen, back arching and body twitching, but you’re mostly just staring stupidly and happily up at him. Dean swallows, his chest rising and falling fast, and leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You hum, eyes fluttering shut, and cup the back of his neck to hold him against you.

He drags his fingers lazily through the mess between your thighs, sending pleasurable little shivers up your spine. He drags your panties fully off your body, holding them up to his nose and taking a deep, long whiff before tossing them off to the side. He gathers your arousal on his fingers and slowly pulls away, rising over you with parted lips and gleaming, almost wholly black eyes.

Dean sucks your juices off his fingers, lapping them up with his tongue and a lazy, knowing smirk. Your breath catches. You almost push up to try and grab him, but you’re still foggy and boneless from the orgasm, and he shoves you back down with a broad hand splayed over your tummy.

“Dean-“

You cut yourself off under his stern gaze, swallowing nervously.

“Please?” You try again, and he chuckles.

“You’re cute.”

“I- I am not-“

“Yeah, you are. Cute when you cum for me,” he dips his fingers back into you, smirking lazily. “Cute when I touch you. Cute when you beg.”

“Deeeean-“

“Deeean,” he mocks, squeezing your upper thigh. “Listen to you. Fuckin’ adorable.”

You flush, a new wave of arousal hitting you like a rising tide, and you don’t even understand how you could possibly be ready that fast. Dean watches you pussy tremble and flutter, letting out a slow, rough breath.

“Son of a bitch,” he shakes his head, his hand moving to rub against his cock. “You got no idea what you do to me, baby, no fuckin’ idea.”

You swallow, watching him move against himself, almost enchanted. He really is prettier than is fair, in every possible way. His cock is thick and long, flushed at the head and leaking pre-cum against his thumb. Your tongue flicks over your lips, as you try to mentally measure the girth and length of him. You’ve taken toys before, when you got really curious. He’s bigger.

“You wanna touch, sweetheart?” He prompts, and you nod, your tongue flicking over your lips.

Dean pushes his hips forward, slowly taking your hand and guiding it against his shaft. He’s warm. Warm and hard. You dance your fingers down the length of him and he grunts, a vein ticking in his neck.

“Easy…” He rasps, and you nod nervously.

You find his balls, give them a light squeeze, and Dean catches your wrist.

“That’s enough.” He mutters, twining your fingers together. “Jesus, woman, gonna blow it before I even get inside of you.”

Your eyes widen. You’d almost forgotten about that part.

“That’s not going to fit inside of me.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, it will.”

“No, I mean like- It can’t-“

“It can.”

“Dean, I’m serious-“

He shuts you up with a quick rough kiss, and you go embarrassingly limp. His cock rubs between the folds of your pussy, bumping and pressing against your clit, and your breath hitches. Oh, God.

“Just do what I tell ya,” he mutters. “We’re gonna make it fit.”

You do. It is very easy to do what Dean tells you, when he follows through on all his promises. When he gives you such low and certain orders, and you find yourself molding perfectly around his cock.

Because it does fit. Somehow, Dean spreads your legs and kisses your pussy once—as if he can’t help himself—before crawling over you and slowly pushing the head of his cock inside of you. It’s tight at first. He grunts, pressing his brow to you shoulder, and rubs tight circle around your clit with his thumb.

“Open up for me, baby,” he rasps. “C’mon.”

You go limp with every inch he feeds you. The stretch is glorious, pulling you apart with every drag over your fluttering walls, every low grunt of your name from Dean’s lips. His determination to tease you seems to dissolve, by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, his balls pressed against your ass. He pants in your ear, hot and heavy, and cradles your body in his arms like it’s fragile.

“Slow,” he mutters, and it sounds like he’s talking to himself more than you. “Gonna go slow.”

You keen, at the first, lazy thrust of his hips. A lewd, wet sound fills the air, and the head of Dean’s cock pushes right up against that already abused spot inside of you, making stars dance behind your eyes. Every roll of Dean’s hips makes your whole body spark. He kisses all over your face, his own voice thick and wrecked as you clench around him.  

“Takin’ me so well, baby,” he rasps. “Feels good, doesn’t it. Feels so fuckin’ good, bein’ filled up with cock like you deserve-“

His words fall into a moan, his hips snapping forward, and the air gets knocked from your lungs. A sound you’ve never heard escapes you, and Dean chuckles, kissing your open mouth as he repeats the motion.

“Yeah, you like that.” He pulls almost fully out, then slams back forward. “Say it, baby girl, say you like it-“

“I like it,” you gasp out, sounding drunk to your own ears. “Love it, Dean- Fuck- Fuuuck-“

Dean captures your mouth in another kiss, and sets a brutal, drilling pace. You’re split open with every thrust, your every nerve on fire as he fucks you like a machine. He never gets too fast, just hard. Over and over and over again, until you’re gasping for air and clawing at his shoulders. That pressure turns molten and demanding, threatening to burst. Dean’s fingers dig into your hips. He moans in your ear, his own words staring to slur.

“Tight,” he moans. “So fuckin’ tight- I- I can’t- Shit-“

Dean’s hands fumble, dragging over your thighs and as he gropes for your pussy. Two fumbling fingers find it, rubbing tight circles, and you cry out, clenching down on his cock.

“Let go, sweetheart, need you to let for ‘f me- Fuck-“

Your orgasm hits you even harder than before, and your vision goes white. Your pussy flutters and clenches, something hot gushing out as your body trembles with overwhelming pleasure. It’s a strange sensation, but not bad. Not even close. You think you scream with pleasure, but Dean slams his mouth over yours and muffles the sound.

His hips stutter and jerk. You whine his name and he grunts, slamming forward and burying himself at the hilt as his cum spurts deep inside you, mixing with your own release.

You’re almost gone to the world. Dean lies over you, kissing you as you float back down, murmuring praise you can barely hear.

“Gonna clean you up,” he grunts, and you whine when his weight disappears.

“Deeean.” You grab at the air and catch his bicep. “Stay.”

You pout at him, eyes watery and hopeful. He just chuckles, kissing your knuckles before drawing back up, and promising to return.

He better. You really don’t want to let go of him now.

Dean brings a wet, warm towel, and cleans between your thighs. You didn’t realize how sore you were until he touches you with such light hands, but it’s a good kind of sore. When you moan, it’s not even really in pain.

He brings you water. A snack and a fresh shirt, that he bundles you in like a penguin. You somehow end up curled against his chest, half asleep and smiling against his bare, warm chest.

“I like you,” Dean says suddenly, and you beam. You don’t think you’ve ever felt so bubbly in your life.

“I like you too-“

“No,” his jaw works, the words low and tight. “I like like you- Like- Fuck-“

He runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. It’s almost adorable.

“You- You’re just- That really wasn’t nothin’ for me, sweetheart, not even close-“

You take his trick. You push up on his chest, press your lips together, and kiss him until he shuts the fuck up. He kisses you back immediately, cupping your face between shaking hands. You smile against his lips, pulling back just enough to whisper, “I like you too.”

Dean’s eyes snap open, his voice hoarse. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you flush. “A- A lot.”

Dean grins. He smiles wider than you knew he could, and slams a shorter rougher kiss against your lips before pulling back again. Like he can’t stand not to look at you for too long.

“Can I take you out?” He says, and you nod.

“Can we have more sex,” you whisper, and he laughs, pressing another kiss against your lips.

“Any time you want, baby.” He says. “You’re mine now.”

✦End note: drooling for him ✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

"Thought you might be hungry," Theo murmured, his voice oddly soothing. He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your temple.

"Thanks," you whispered, offering a small smile.

Before he could even step back though, the door swung open again.

And Rafe walked in.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him—the buzzcut, the broad shoulders, and those blue eyes that were currently burning holes straight into the man next to you.

In a way, you did miss seeing him.

In his hand, Rafe held a tall glass filled with a freshly blended smoothie. The one he made you every morning. 

Or used to. 

The exact one he used to make you every single morning when things were perfect.

The problem was, things weren’t perfect.

And you weren't a couple anymore.

Rafe offered Theo a polite, short nod, stepping into your space. He sat the glass down in front of you, his jaw clenching.

"Made you this," he said, his voice still raspy, a sound that used to make you excited for the rest of the day. "Figured you might want it."

“...I’m gonna go,” Theo whispered, leaning down to kiss your cheek, leaving with a small smile, not wanting to be possibly be caught in the middle of whatever was going on, as you squeezed his hand in a silent goodbye, a gesture that didn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as Theo left and the other boys began to flood the room, also bringing food.

You looked from the pink liquid up to his face. "I don't want it," you deadpanned, your voice flat, absent of the warmth he was hoping for.

Around you, the dressing room was growing louder. Sarah was blending her foundation while John B whispered to her, Cleo was being lovey-dovey with Justin, and the remaining islanders were talking loudly enough to create a blanket of background noise. 

Because of the ambience, you and Rafe were trapped whispering, silently arguing.

Rafe didn’t walk away. His eyes narrowed, searching yours. "C'mon, angel. Just take it—"

"Go give the smoothie to your girlfriend," you hissed, leaning closer, tilting your chin up at him.

Rafe sucked in a deep breath, nostrils flaring. He stepped even closer, leaning down so his mouth was closer to your ear. "Can you stop saying that shit?" he muttered, voice harsh. "You know damn well she isn't my girlfriend. You know why I’m here."

"I don't know anything about you," you hiss back, glaring at him over your shoulder, your fingers gripping the edge of the marble counter. "Now, leave me alone." you snarl, pushing the smoothie glass to the edge of the table, so fast it screeched.

Rafe stood still for a long moment and you could feel the heat radiating off his body. He looked at you, then let out a defeated sigh. Respecting your boundary, he slowly stepped back. Wordlessly, he turned and walked straight out of the glam room, ignoring the way everyone was pretending they weren’t staring.

THE rest of the morning turned into lounging and hushed conversations. The villa was huge, yet felt claustrophobic with all the hovering drama. And by mid-afternoon, you and the girls had migrated out toward the beanbags.

Two of the three new Casa Amor girls—Haja and Kaitlyn—sat in the middle of it all, introducing themselves.

Kaitlyn spoke first, telling you all about herself. "I hate that I’m finally getting to talk to all of you, like, a whole twenty-four hours later but,” she shrugged. “Uh, I’m twenty-two, I’m from San Francisco," she said, flashing a sweet, polite smile as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Oh! I’m Vietnamese, anddd I work as a junior tech lawyer. So, yeah, my life back home sucks."

Sarah, who had been sitting with her knees pulled tightly to her chest, jumped in, the anxiety and uncertainty of Casa still written plainly across her face. "I really don't mean to be aggressive, but... you and John B. You guys have a history, right?” Kaitlyn nods. “Can you just fill me in? Because he’s been so vague about it."

Kaitlyn sighed, looking around the circle before offering Sarah a sympathetic look. "Eh, I guess, for me, it boiled down to the fact that John B wasn't exactly the most attentive boyfriend when we were together. He seemed self-absorbed, always distracted by his own stuff, his own friends, and whatever weird theories he and his dad liked to chase.” She scoffs. “I was always an afterthought."

Sarah’s face fell, but Kaitlyn was quick to lean forward, placing a hand on Sarah’s leg. "But you don't have to worry about me. I'm over him. Honestly? From what I saw of him here... I think he actually really does like you. Even at Casa, he talked about you constantly. Even when the girls were throwing themselves at him, his head didn't fully turn."

“Fully?" Sarah raises an eyebrow, her eyes searching Kaitlyn's face. "...Did John B do anything while he was at Casa? Because my gut is telling me he’s hiding something from me. He’s being way too defensive anytime I ask and he’s always too eager to change the subject."

Kaitlyn bit her lip, looking hesitant. "...Look, I just got here. I really don't want to cause any problems or start any drama—"

"Please," Sarah pleaded, her voice cracking slightly.

Kaitlyn let out a slow sigh, casting her eyes down before looking right back at Sarah. "Okay. If you want to ask John B anything about what happened over at Casa, ask him about Delaney, JJ’s ex."

The name dropped and Sarah’s face hardened, the blood draining from her cheeks, tongue prodding the inside of her cheek like she knew something.

But before she could spiral any further, Cleo jumped into the conversation. 

"So, Kaitlyn," Cleo started, her voice smooth. "Pope told me his side of the story about why he coupled up with you. What’s yours?"

Pope had spent the previous evening giving Cleo his version of events on why he had brought Kaitlyn back, insisting it was a purely platonic pairing to keep them both in the game. Cleo was curious to see if his story checked out against what Kaitlyn would say.

Kaitlyn turned to Cleo, unbothered by the interrogation. "Oh, it’s nothing. I swear.” She throws her hands up. “When we came into Casa, I really didn't find a genuine romantic connection with any of the other guys. But obviously, I still wanted to stay in the game and get a chance to enter the main villa and hopefully find someone. Pope and I got along really well just as friends. He didn't mind bringing me back, and I didn't mind being the one to keep him from elimination, just in case."

Knowing that Pope had actually told the absolute truth made Cleo’s demeanor soften, but it also started a whole other issue...

Confessional: Cleo "Ughhh,” she groans, throwing her head back. “Is it bad that I hoped he was lying? Knowing Pope told me the truth makes things ten times harder, man! Part of me wanted him to be the bad guy so I could just free myself from him and focus on Justin. Shit, man…"

Then, it was Haja’s turn to introduce herself. She leaned back against the cushions, sunglasses atop her head. "I don’t know where to start but, um, my name’s Haja," she said, her drawl smooth and rich. "Pronounced exactly like that. I’m twenty-five, and I’m a professional dancer from Houston, Texas. I’ve actually been on tour for, like, the last year. So, this is my first summer in a while..."

“You’re...Miles’ ex, right?” Rima asks, unsure.

"We dated, yeah," she scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“How was that?” You ask, leaning back.

"Our relationship was toxic as fuck," Haja amuses, saying it like a joke, a smile on her face. "And when I say that man is manipulative?" She drags out, turning to you. "I mean, you experienced it first hand from what I saw. When he said that stuff to you? About Rafe? He used to do shit like that all the time. It’s the same move he pulled to get me away from the boyfriend I had before him."

Your heart drops at the mention of that day, at the mention of Rafe. “Guess he wasn’t too far off, though…” you mutter to yourself.

"I don’t know too much about that,” she disclaims. “All I know is that Miles was wrong to tell you that shit, and I am one hundred percent sure he was just trying to cause trouble and break you and Rafe apart for his own selfish reasons."

And because the topic had officially been dragged out into the open, you couldn't hold it back anymore. The question had been burning a hole in your chest since last night. You leaned forward, looking at Haja through your lashes.

"Haja, can you tell me what you saw...between Rafe and Sofia at Casa?” you asked, voice soft as you played with your fingers. “I just…I feel like I need to know."

The girls are surprised by your line of questioning, and reasonably so. Since last night, it seemed like the topic of Rafe or Sofia or Casa Amor had you seconds away from either throwing up or burning the villa down.

Haja looked visibly hesitant, exchanging a brief, worried glance with Kaitlyn before looking back at you. "...Long story short, when we all walked into Casa Amor on day one, Sofia made it very, very clear to every single person that she was there for Rafe, and for Rafe only." She paused, picking her words carefully. "And... I can't say that Rafe was one hundred percent into it. Definitely, at first, he seemed totally uninterested. He wouldn't even look at her, he’d walk out of rooms if she walked in. But... I guess something happened after Raunchy Races, and Sofia came back to the girls' dressing room, and she was just like, super happy, telling all of us that she was 'getting her man back'."

Your stomach dropped at her words, swallowing harshly.

"But," Haja added quickly, reaching out to touch your arm supportively. "This is just what I saw from the outside, from my perspective. I didn’t pay too much attention to them, I was focused on doing my own thing.” She tries to comfort. “If you really want a real explanation about what happened, you need to ask Rafe."

"I can’t ask him," you whispered, a broken laugh escaping your lips as you threw yourself back against the beanbag. “I can’t even bring myself to look at him. I don't know if I can trust a word that comes out of his mouth anymore." You shook your head, trying to clear the bad thoughts.

That was when Sarah jumped in, looking at both of the new girls. "Do either of you know why Miles was the one to bring Sofia back, then? Especially if she was there for Rafe?"

Both Haja and Kaitlyn looked equally confused, shaking their heads in unison.

"Honestly, we’re confused by it, too," Kaitlyn admitted. "I mean everyone got kind of close at one point or another, because of challenges and stuff, but I don’t think either of us can say we ever saw a spark or romantic vibe between them.” She shrugs. “Like Haja said, Sofia was throwing herself at Rafe the whole time, but then that last day, her and Miles were non-stop talking and next thing you know, he’s coupled up with her."

Haja let out a sarcastic scoff, a knowing smirk pulling at her lips. "I’d like to propose the theory that Miles just did it to piss me off. He was trying and failing the entire time.” She snarls. “And Sofia probably did it for the exact same reason—to get at Rafe. She used Miles as a ticket into the main villa to get back to him."

As if on cue, mid-conversation, Sarah nudged your shoulder, pointing a finger out across the lawn.

Across the grass, near the edge of the pool, Sofia and Miles were walking together, talking casually in low tones. Nobody in the main villa was particularly fond of either of them, so it was clear they were finding solace in their mutual isolation.

"Look at them," Cleo muttered, her lip curling in disgust as she also noticed. "Two snakes slithering in the same grass."

Sarah turned her head toward Haja and Kaitlyn, her eyebrows raised curiously. "Does Sofia even talk to you guys? Like, are you even cool with her?"

"Absolutely not," Haja deadpanned. "Sofia hasn't been interested in making a single connection since day one—not friendship-wise, and definitely not romantically. Her main goal has been getting Rafe back and staying in this villa by any means necessary. She barely gave us the time of day."

You sat silently, mind spinning. And you hated how the pieces of the puzzle were starting to form a messy, yet almost more clear, picture. Before you could sink completely into your own head, though, the topic of conversation shifted.

ON the opposite side of the villa, the boys had gathered around the fire pit.

Rafe was pacing a tight line along the edge of the stone seating, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. He stopped, turning his gaze toward JJ, John B, and Pope, who were sitting around.

"I just want a fuckin’ chance to explain," Rafe sighs, his voice cracking with frustration. "She thinks she knows what happened but she doesn’t. It’s like she’s made up this story in her head and she’s sticking with it, she won't even look at me."

JJ leaned back against the cushions, spinning sunglasses between his fingers. "Bro, we gotta figure out what they actually saw because what would make her think you wanted Sofia back?" He throws out. “I mean, we were there, dude. I don’t think you did anything wrong. Like, at all.”

John B leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe it was the Raunchy Races challenge?"

"Yeah," Pope agreed, nodding like a light bulb came on in his head. "Wasn’t that when she randomly kissed you? After the lap dance thing?"

Rafe immediately shut the theory down, shaking his head as he paced back toward them. "No. That's not it. It can’t be." He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "It would be obvious to anyone with a brain that that kiss was during a challenge."

"Rafe’s right," John B admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "That was clearly challenge kiss. Plus, bro, your face right after Sofia did it? You looked grossed out. If the video showed that, she wouldn't be this mad."

Rafe let out a ragged sigh of defeat, dropping onto the edge of the couch. "I can't believe she actually brought somebody back," he muttered, his voice dropping into a bitter hiss as his eyes caught Theo throwing a football with Justin across the lawn. "Who the fuck is this Italian giant anyway?" he ranted. "I feel like shit, man. I just want her to let me talk to her for five minutes, but she is literally the most stubborn girl I have ever met in my life."

JJ let out a scoff from his corner. "Oh, you think you feel bad?" JJ shook his head. "How do you think I feel right now? The girls are all pissed at me for something I don't even think is completely my fault." He shook his head, eyes widening with stress. "I never wanted Kie to get dumped 'cause of me. She was a really good person, and she didn't deserve to go home like that. But at the end of the day, we are all here to find love, man. And I just...didn't see that with her. I can't force something that isn't there."

"Yeah, they were ready to execute you," John B sighed, leaning back against the couch, trying to maintain some level of peace. "Look, I’m just really glad I chose to come back alone, and that Sarah did the same. We’re in a good spot." He paused, his expression turning anxious as he rubbed his chin. "But... I can't lie. I’m lowkey worried that if Sarah knew exactly what was going through my mind and everything I said or did while we were over there... she might not be as happy to be coupled up with me right now."

Pope let out a heavy sigh from his seat, staring blankly at his feet. "I feel you. I got the chance to explain to Cleo that I did stand on my word, that I only brought Kaitlyn back to make sure I stayed in the villa and didn't get dumped. But I'm not even sure if she believes me..."

The boys all fell silent, their eyes drifting across the wide lawn to where the girls were sitting, talking.

"Hopefully," Pope muttered quietly, "we can all figure our shit out soon."

AND it didn't take long for the boys to start plucking you off, one by one, desperate to clear the air.

Justin was the first to make a move, sauntering over, offering a polite smile before looking at Cleo. "Mind if I pull you?"

"No, of course not." She beamed. "Let’s go," Cleo said smoothly, sliding out of her seat, taking his hand and following him over to a quiet corner near the outdoor kitchen.

They sat down on the barstools, Justin leaning his forearms against the counter as he looked into her eyes. "So... I just wanted to check in. I know last night was a lot and that things are weird with Pope back.” He starts anxiously, knee bouncing. “I guess, it’s just…do you actually like me? Like, with him here, do you want to keep getting to know me?"

Cleo offered him a relaxed smile. "Justin, of course I like you.” She breathes. “And I do want to keep getting to know you. You’ve been great to me."

Justin nodded, but his expression turned slightly guarded. "But...what about Pope?"

Cleo let out a slow breath, refusing to lie to him. "I’m not gonna deny that a piece of me has always been with Pope because of our initial connection during the first couple weeks. I do...still have feelings there.” She admits, finally to herself. “But... I’m just not sure if I want to go forward with exploring them anymore after everything that happened. I feel like you have always put me first since the moment you walked in, and I really appreciate you for that. I just want to focus on us."

Justin listened, respectful as he nodded slowly. "I appreciate the honesty, Cleo. Seriously. I understand where you're coming from, and I’m not gonna push you."

Confessional: Justin "I really do respect her for being honest. And I know there are other beautiful women in this villa who would probably give me one hundred percent of their attention right now. But the truth is... I don't want anyone else. I only want Cleo. Is it too early to say that?"

On the other side of the yard, John B had finally gathered the courage to pull Sarah away. He led her over to the daybeds, tense as he sat down opposite her.

"Sarah," John B started, reaching out toward her hand. Sarah was clueless. "I feel like we should talk."

“Okay…”

“There’s no point in really dancing around it, so,” John B sucks in a deep breath. “I guess I’ll start by asking…what did you do during Casa?”

“...Do you mean like emotional or physical?” She tries to clarify, and John B ponders for a moment, face twisting.

“Both, I guess.”

"Um," Sarah started, thinking, but also confused. "To be honest? Nothing.” She laughs to herself. “I mean, I was open to exploring and everything. I talked to some of the guys I didn’t know, but I didn’t click with anyone. And if you were worried about my ex, me and Thomas didn’t do anything. We’ve been over.” She throws out casually. “And physically, outside of challenges, I still didn’t do anything. I slept alone in Soul Ties the entire time, I didn’t kiss anyone…hell, I don’t even think I hugged any of those guys. And it wasn't for lack of trying, it was more so for the fact...no one could ever beat what I feel for you."

John B swallowed hard, nodding, the guilt written plain across his freckled face. 

“...What about you?” Sarah dragged, noting the look on his face. But he remained silent. “...Hello? John B—”

"Sarah,” He blurted, eyes locking onto her own, wide and frantic. “I need you to promise not to get mad," He tries, looking apprehensive.

Sarah's face twists, leaning back away from him slightly. "...Why?"

John B took a deep breath, straightening out. "While I was at Casa... I did end up…catching feelings for a girl." He admits, dropping his head.

"Delaney.” Sarah deadpans, remembering Kaitlyn's words from only moments prior.

John B nods, having at least the decency to look shameful, watching Sarah scoff, her shoulders dropping. “But it wasn’t anything serious—”

“I knew it.”

“She was just…there, and—”

“Did you kiss her?” She cuts him off sharply. “Outside of a challenge.” She clarifies. “Did you?”

John B hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting away before locking back onto hers. "...Yeah," he admitted. "But only once. I swear, Sarah—"

“I fucking knew it!” She exclaims incredulously, snatching her hands out of his. “I knew it from the minute I saw that video and you were holding her fucking face. And I wanted to believe in you, so bad.”

"Sarah, calm down, please—" John B scrambled to his stand, his hands raised in a panic.

"No, don't tell me to calm down,” She scrutinizes. “Are you fucking kidding me? What, I’m just your safe option?”

“No,” John B immediately denies her words. “No, Sarah, you know you’re not—”

“You went over there, made a whole new connection with another girl, shoved your tongue down her throat, and you’re just telling me about it.” She says, disappointed before her face hardens again. “If you made a connection with her, why the hell didn't you bring her back?"

John B desperately tried to smooth it over. "Because clearly I liked you more than her, Sarah! That’s why I came back alone!” He pleads. “Delaney and you... you guys actually share a lot of the same personality traits. You even kind of look alike!” He throws out in a panic, but he can see that it only makes the girl angrier. “I think... I think part of my interest in her just came from the fact that I was missing you so much."

Sarah stared at him, her expression completely disgusted. "Missing me? You kissed another girl because you missed me?" She let out a harsh scoff. "That is the fattest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my entire life, John B."

Without letting him say another word, Sarah turned and stormed away from the conversation, leaving John B standing alone in the garden, gripping his curls in frustration.

MEANWHILE, you were sitting with Theo on the edge of the pool, kicking your feet in the water, trying your best to have a casual conversation. You were chatting and having fun, his typical flirtatious banter temporarily lifting the weight from your shoulders.

But then, Theo’s expression turned serious as silence took over. He set his water bottle on the concrete, turning fully towards your face. "I hate to ruin the mood,” He starts. “But, if you don’t mind me asking…I’d like to know what happened last night." You tilt your head at him innocently, not clear on his question before he clarifies himself. “Your talk with Rafe, bella.” He laughs lowly, but there’s not much humor in it, mostly anxiety.

You let out a soft sigh. "He was basically trying to explain to me that whatever I saw in that video clip... he says I…misinterpreted it. He was swearing up and down that he didn't do anything wrong."

Theo watched you closely, his brow furrowing as his fingers brushed yours from where they were splayed next to each other on the ground. "And you believe him?"

You bit your lip, face scrunching in thought. "Off the top of my head, I have to say no," you said flatly, shaking your head. "I don’t know. Something about it all feels…weird."

Theo hums, letting the silence hang for a moment before, "What if he’s actually telling the truth?"

You groan lightly, kicking your feet against the water more aggressively. "That’s…a problem for another day, Theo," you murmured, looking away across the water. 

Despite your dismissive tone, Theo didn't let the subject drop. He leaned closer, pressing the issue. "Y/N,” his voice drops, more serious than you’d ever heard it as a hand falls to your thigh. “I would really like a straight answer to the question."

And something about the topic of conversation or the fact that Theo wouldn’t drop it just put you off. You knew he had every right to ask but the subject matter made you…angry. Defensive. You pulled your legs out of the water, turning to glare at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Why does it matter?"

Theo hesitated, his jaw working for a second before he confessed. "Because... I’m worried that if he is, you’ll choose him over me."

You physically flinched at his words, eyes widening as your expression softened slightly. You reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. "Theo,” you call softly. “I have a real connection with you. Keeping you here wasn't some petty revenge plot or a way to get back at Rafe. I genuinely do have feelings for you."

Theo listened, but he didn't look entirely convinced. He let out a slow sigh. "I understand what you're saying, bella. But I’m not blind. I know that your feelings for Rafe are stronger than what you feel for me.”

“That’s not—”

“You can try to deny it all you want, but you forget I watched you two fall for each other before even coming here. You liked him and he liked you. A lot. And I know feelings don’t disappear overnight.” He reminds, and you huff, relenting. “But a part of me feels like... if you hadn't seen that video of Rafe and Sofia kissing... you would have never picked me." He tells you, sighing. "...Am I wrong?"

The question hit you hard, knocking the wind out of your lungs as you scrambled for a response, knowing hesitation would only make it worse. 

"I—yes, I mean—no?—I don't..." you stuttered over your words. "Theo, I don't know..." you finally admitted, looking down at your hands, letting your shoulders slump. "I really do like you. I like the way you make me feel safe and how attentive you are and how you call me beautiful.” You list off, trying to appeal to him. “But... I can't lie to you. I think, maybe, seeing that kiss between Rafe and Sofia... it might’ve fast-tracked something for me.” You admit, somewhat shamefully. “But I’m not using you, Theo. I swear."

Theo stared at you for three long seconds, a look of disappointment and hurt settling plain across his features. He was rightfully put off by your hesitation, the confirmation of his worst fear written across your own features, whether you were ready to admit to him or not.

He slowly pulled his forearm away from your touch, standing up from the edge of the pool. "I understand," Theo said, his voice perfectly polite, but drained of the warmth it held just minutes ago. 

“Theo—”

"Thank you for the honesty.” He nods politely. “I think... I’m gonna go inside, get some water..." and without giving you a chance to repair the damage, he walked away, leaving you sitting alone, feeling like the worst person ever, cursing yourself.

And as you sat there sulking from the aftermath of the conversation, your sad eyes drifted across the lawn.

On the daybeds, Sofia and Miles were talking casually when, suddenly, Rafe walked past them from one direction and Haja walked past from the other, Miles and Sofia quickly glanced at them both before randomly jumping on each other, Miles wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as Sofia leaned in, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. 

It was obvious they were trying to make both of their exes jealous, but neither Rafe nor Haja paid them a single ounce of mind, walking right past the display as if Miles and Sofia were completely invisible.

And you couldn’t help the way your eyes glued themselves to Rafe longer than intended, watching him walk—remembering how it felt to have his arms around you, how it felt to lay on his chest at night, how it felt to have his hand gently squeeze the base of your throat while he kissed you like he hadn’t in years—

You startled yourself out of your daydreaming when Rafe must’ve sensed a pair of eyes on him, turning as his eyes locked with yours, holding your stare.

But you were the one to break eye contact, slightly embarrassed.

You missed him.

But fuck him.

RAFE, on the other hand, kept staring at you as he walked across the lawn.

He noted the way your hair fell in front of your face, finding it adorable, missing the way you'd do that when he made you nervous. He wished he could tell you how good you looked in the bikini you chose today, to whisper in your ear how he couldn’t wait to be the one to take it off of you whenever you decided to give him that chance.

And when he realized that another guy, in the same villa, was probably having the same thoughts, and rightfully so because he was coupled up with you now, all of his anger returned. And, frustrated by your refusal to even listen to him, Rafe decided that if you wouldn't give him the time of day, he needed to get through to someone you would. 

He looked around the deck, surveying his options—Sarah looked furious after her talk with John B, Cleo had been practically attached to Justin's hip all morning, and he nor you were close enough with Haja or Kaitlyn to pull them. And he damn sure wasn't going to talk to Sofia.

So, considering he was currently in a couple with Rima, he figured it was time to use the coupling to his advantage. He jogged over to where she was suntanning on a lounge chair she’d dragged out into the sun, clearing his throat as he loomed above her, blocking the sun. 

She lifted her head from where it was laying on her folded arms, cocking a curious eyebrow the man’s way.

"Can we talk?"

Rima pushed her sunglasses down, looking up at him with a stubborn expression. Like you and the rest of the girls, she was under the impression that Rafe had spent his time at Casa kissing Sofia behind your back, and was now just trying to clean up his tracks.

"Rafe," Rima said flatly, sitting up. "I really don't want to hear—"

"Please," Rafe begged, his voice cracking slightly. "Just listen to me for two minutes. I swear to God I’m telling the truth, but she won’t listen to me." He whines. "I’m hoping you will."

Rima let out a deep sigh, sitting up and crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine. Two minutes. Go."

Rafe let the ghost of a smile grace his face as he took the available space on the sun lounger next to her, not wasting any time. "Look, Sofia was all over me the second we walked into Casa, Rima, I swear. She was relentless. But I ignored her the entire time. I swear on my mother’s grave." He said, entirely serious. He leaned forward, eyes wide with urgency and desperation. "I did not sleep in a bed with anyone, I slept outside the entire time, getting ate the fuck up by mosquitoes." To back up his point, Rafe aggressively gestured towards his legs, revealing his calves and thighs, which were covered in dozens of angry, red, swollen mosquito bites. "Like, look at my fuckin’ legs."

Rima looked down at the bites, her eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before looking back at him.

"And outside of challenges," Rafe continued frantically, "I did not kiss anyone. I did not touch anyone. And I wasn't forcing myself to not make a connection, I just didn't find one because the only girl I want is Y/N.” He huffs, getting it all out in one breath, voice lowering for the final part of his plea. “Whatever kiss she thinks she saw in that video... she’s wrong."

Rima listened, her sharp eyes scanning his face. She let out a slow breath, raising her own skepticism. "Okay, Rafe.” She starts, letting her shoulders rise and fall. “I hear what you're saying. But I don’t think you understand how bad that video looked.." She leaned in closer, voice dropping. "We saw the kiss during the challenge, yeah. But what really got to her, what I think is really breaking her heart right now, isn't that. It’s what you said." Rima stared right into his eyes. "She watched you argue with your ex, and the second she came onto you, you say you miss her and then y’all kissed. It looks like you were trying to fight unresolved feelings you might’ve had, or have, and failed in the end."

Rafe’s eyes widened, his jaw slacking as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place inside his brain. He finally understood what you had seen, and why you had thrown your connection away so fast.

You didn’t see the whole conversation.

"Fuck," Rafe whispered, dragging his hands down his face. "Rima... there was so much more to that conversation. I can't even fully explain how edited that shit must’ve been to make it look like that, but when I said I missed her... I didn't mean it like that. I swear to you."

Rima raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp. "So... you did say it?"

Rafe looked at a loss for words, stuttering over his thoughts. "Y-Yes, but... it’s a lot... it’s different than what you think.” He tries to clean it up. “I’m not that kind of guy. But she won't even give me the time of day to prove it to her. She’s avoiding me like the plague." He looked at Rima with sad, blue, puppy-dog eyes. "Will you just please help me? I’m literally begging you."

Rima stared at him for a long moment. She had looked into the faces of a lot of guilty men in her life, but looking at Rafe right now, she didn't see a liar. All she saw was a man who was utterly terrified of losing you and desperate to get you back. She’d never gotten a begging-type of vibe from Rafe before, and that, plus his evident desperation, was what led her to believe him.

She sighed, giving in. "How the hell am I supposed to help you?" Rima asked, throwing her hands up. "She saw what she saw, and she already brought an entire Italian God back to the villa. She’s in a whole new couple, Rafe. And, I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I think she does actually like him."

"Okay, yeah, I get that,” Rafe waves off, not really caring. “Just... be my wing woman," Rafe pleaded quietly. "Be my eyes on the inside. Help me figure out what she’s thinking, so that way I know how to go about fixing this. I just want her to know that I didn't lie to her." He admits, his face falling as his next words leave his lips. "After that, if she doesn't...want me anymore. I'll accept that. But I can't let her go over something as stupid as this. I can't." His voice shook. "I’m not asking you to go behind her back or lie to anyone, Rima. I’m just asking you to help a man out."

Rima let out a long sigh, shaking her head before a small smirk pulled at her lips. "Fine. I’ll help you." Her expression instantly turned serious, her voice dropping into a low whisper. "But let me make one thing clear to you right now. I swear, if it comes out that your ass is lying to me—because in here, everything always comes out—I’m going to break. your. face.” She threatens, a finger jammed into his chest. “Are we clear?"

Rafe swallowed hard, nodding quickly—only happy to be making progress in getting through to you. "Crystal."

Just then, Rafe's phone dinged, the man sliding it out of his pocket. "Shit," he smirked to himself, standing up. "I got a text!"

At that, everyone stopped what they were doing, drawing in closer as he read it out.

"Islanders, it’s time to find out who is climbing the corporate ladder and who is up for termination! Girls, get ready to give the boys a performance review they’ll never forget in today's challenge, Boss Bitch! #BoardroomBabes #CorporateTakeover #SlimeAndSizzle"

The yard erupted into a choir of cheers and whistles as you all ran off to change.

YOU’D all returned moments later, looking ridiculously hot—the boys completely shirtless under open blazers, ties hanging loosely against bare, toned chests, and shorts that left very little to the imagination. 

You and the rest of the girls pulled out all the stops, per usual.

Every one had some version of a provocative business-casual fit. You, specifically, were adorned in a lace brassiere under an open blazer that had the 'girls' sitting perfectly, probably one of the smallest skirts you’d ever worn, and a pair of glasses sitting cutely on the tip of your nose.

You were all sitting around a curved table where the lawn had been transformed into a sleek boardroom, the table top littered with colorful papers that would soon be serving as a runway, a podium, and a deep pit of thick, pink slime.

The challenge was simple—you’d come out, give the men a show, choose someone outside of your couple to kiss, read a trivia question that could be naughty or nice and choose someone to dunk before exiting the “meeting” with a passionate kiss to your partner.

The men waited anxiously, smiling to each other when the doors opened, revealing their first girl.

Cleo was the first to emerge, and she set the bar high. Clad in a vibrant cobalt blue blazer that laid wide open over a matching sheer lace brassiere, she looked drop-dead gorgeous. You were all hooting and hollering as she climbed onto the boardroom table, hips moving fluidly to the heavy bass of the music. She arched her back, grinding down the length of the table while running her hands down her own torso.

"Go on then, girl!" Justin shouted, making Cleo laugh lightly, hyping her up with his eyes glued to her.

But she surprised everyone when she sat down in front of Pope’s chair, a sultry smirk pulling at her lips as she grabbed him firmly by his tie, and yanked him towards her, pressing her lips against his own as Pope let his hands roam. Your jaw dropped as Cleo deepened the kiss, tilting his head back as the villa went crazy.

Of course, the original guys were the loudest—JJ, John B, and Rafe sounding like hyenas, happy that Pope was, seemingly, on the road to that second chance he’d been groveling for.

But further down the table, Justin swallowed harshly. He tried to play it cool, but a frown marred his features as he watched Pope's hands basically map out Cleo’s body.

After a few moments, Cleo broke the kiss, swaggering over to the podium to snatch up her trivia card. She read the prompt aloud, hand on her hip—"Which islander is bringing the team morale down?"

"Oh, this is a no-brainer," Cleo laughed, pointing the hand with the card in it at JJ. "You knocked us down a staff member, rude boy." She teased as JJ took his walk of shame to the hot seat, lips curled inwards as he sat down, anticipating the drop.

Cleo slammed the lever and JJ went face first into the puddle of goo as you all winced, watching him rise, wiping the thick goo from his face. And Cleo concluded her turn by walking straight over to Justin. 

She climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs, and delivered a sexy, breathless kiss that wiped the frown right off his face, leaving him grinning like a fool by the time she took her seat next to him.

When Sarah stepped up the chopping block, dressed in a crimson blazer and a black lace bra underneath, she radiated a dangerous kind of aura. She climbed onto the table, eyes locked dead on John B as she did a slow, provocative grind, dropping low to the music before strutting to the edge. But something about their gaze held a kind of unspoken tension.

And everyone’s jaws hit the floor when Sarah stepped down and made a b-line…for JJ.

JJ’s eyes went wide as he caught her strutting over, his hands going up in mock surrender, but as Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and smashed her lips against his, he didn't pull away. It was a steamy kiss that had you all stunned, noises of disbelief echoing around the table. 

John B was left wordless, his face dropping as a look of intense jealousy washed over him.

Confessional: Sarah "Am I being petty? Absolutely.” She laughs. “Since there’s enough of John B to go around, I figured there’s enough of me for his best friend in here to get a taste." She leans back. “Oh, but don’t worry, John B! I only kissed your best friend because I missed you!” She mocks, rolling her eyes.

Ungluing her lips from JJ’s, Sarah marched over to the podium, her eyes cutting straight through John B on her way over before she read her trivia card.

"Which employee loves to take secret meetings with new clients behind their partner's back?"

"Oooooh," Everyone looked around, probably having a couple of people in mind with recent events.

But, again, to everyone’s surprise, Sarah locked eyes with John B, beckoning him over with a single finger as he obeyed and walked over while you all exchanged weary, confused glances.

Oh, you’d definitely ask her about this later.

Though, right now, you focused on watching as John B got comfortable in the elevated seat while Sarah looked all too happy to slam the lever and send him into the pit, soaking his blazer and curls in pink slime. 

And to top it all off, she had deliver her final kiss to him. Sarah sauntered over, climbed onto his sticky, slimed lap, and delivered an agonizingly slow kiss, leaving John B dazed and defeated.

Confessional : Sarah "I don't know if I'm still mad." Sarah shrugged. "Like, he explored and still chose me but that shit sucked, dude!" She whines. "...But dunking him definitely helped."

After her, Haja turned the boardroom into show and you all, fortunately, had front row seats. Her movements across the table were so fluid—dropping into a slow split and executing flawless, complicated moves that had the boys standing up out of their chairs, screaming. 

But the real mess came when Haja lowered herself down from the table and walked straight over to Miles. Everyone, the boys especially, looked around like, 'what the hell?' given how much they hated each other, or at least appeared to.

Miles smirked, smug as Haja pulled him in by his open blazer, delivering a deep kiss that looked entirely too comfortable. JJ’s jaw clenched, a look of insecurity crossing his features as he watched the girl he was coupled up with swap spit with her ex...by choice.

Confessional: JJ "So…she acts like Miles is the literal bane of her entire existence…and to back it up, she shoves her tongue down his throat?” He throws out, clearly put off. “It’s messing with my head, bro. I feel like a pawn in their weird little game..."

Haja broke the kiss, pushing Miles back by his shoulders, stepping up to the podium to read her trivia card.

"Which employee is trying to pull off a hostile takeover in another department?"

Haja pretended to think, her eyes traveling when the stopped on Miles…before jumping to Sofia, beckoning her over as Sofia pointed a finger at herself, surprised. Haja nodded, urging her up out of her seat. "This one's for you, sweetie," She teased as Sofia tried to act unbothered, sitting in the chair, closing her eyes and waiting for the moment to come.

Haja slammed the lever back, and Sofia let out a small shriek as she fell into the pool, slime splattering across her face and into her hair. And as she rose, scooping the substance out of her eyes, almost slipping on her way back to her seat, Haja concluded her turn by walking back to JJ. She took him by the chin, forcing him to look at her, and delivered a passionate kiss that almost made him forget he was mildly upset with her, leaving him grinning.

Kaitlyn’s turn was undeniably sultry. She already had this mature, sexy confidence about her, but as she did a slow crawl down the center of the conference table, her dark hair falling over her shoulders before stepping down—she stole the show. And she proved she knew exactly how to twist a knife, whether purposely or not, when her outside kiss targeted John B.

John B looked flustered as she approached, shifting his weight as her lips met his, but he kissed her back when he remembered Sarah’s lips on JJ’s.

And Sarah simply watched with a lethal stare, jaw working.

Confessional: Kaitlyn "Honestly, I just kissed John B for a bit of fun and we have that history, so it felt safe. But looking back? Probably not the right move.” She winces. “I clearly wasn’t reading the room, and I think I just added more fuel to Sarah's fire. Oops?"

Kaitlyn untangled herself from John B and moved swiftly to the podium, reading her card.

"Which employee thinks they're the boss when they're actually just a temp?"

Kaitlyn laughed, holding the card to her mouth, laughing before her eyes landed dead smack on Miles. Various reactions sounded out as the man rose from his seat, Kaitlyn stepping aside to let him take a seat in the chair before yanking the lever back, letting him drop.

The slime coated almost every inch of him, dripping down his frame as he stepped out of the pool, a tight-lipped grimace on his face as Kaitlyn then walked over to Pope, ending her turn with a sexy kiss.

And before you knew it, it was your turn to show off. You were wearing an oversized white blazer that laid wide open over a matching white lace brassiere, framing you perfectly.

You climbed onto the long, curved conference table, the bass of the music thumping as you let yourself go, used to these games by now. You dropped to your knees, crawling seductively down the center of the table, locking eyes with the perimeter of guys as everyone cheered you on, louder than ever. You held your glasses in your mouth, clutched between your teeth, hanging loosely from your lips as you ran your hands up your thighs, holding eye contact with Rafe for a split second before deliberately bypassing him. 

Confessional: Rafe "Just fuckin' kill me. I don't think I deserve it but this is torture."

The boys were shouting, completely losing their minds. But, of course, your girls were even louder.

You got caught up in the moment, glasses hanging sexily low on your face as your peered over them, realizing you had to choose someone to kiss.

And he came to mind, of course he did. 

But he didn’t get that luxury anymore.

So, without much thought, you stopped in front of JJ, eyes locked onto his. He laughed, throwing his hands up as a blush rose on his cheeks, but he caught you by the waist as you tugged him harshly by his tie, slanting your lips against his as his hands splayed out against your lower back, pulling you in closer.

Confessional: You You were squealing, covering your face with your hands. “I will never get used to kissing JJ.” You whined into your hands dramatically. “It’s so weird! It literally felt like incest. And I’m still kind of pissed at him!” 

Confessional : JJ “Y’know, I know she could’ve kissed Rafe, probably wanted to,” He ponders, shrugging. “But I don’t think I mind being her scapegoat.” He smirks. 

Despite the internal awkwardness, the kiss looked like something out of a movie, and while Theo sat back with a calm smirk, Rafe looked somewhere between grossed out and pissed off, his face contorting as he had to just look away.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t kissed JJ before, almost everyone had kissed everyone, but this time you had the choice to. You could’ve picked him, and you didn’t. It cut him straight to the bone that you could have chosen to kiss him, and you explicitly chose to kiss someone else. 

He knew why you did it, but the rejection still felt like a punch to the gut.

As you broke away from JJ, leaving him red, hot, and flustered, walking over to the podium, you swiped up the trivia card.

"Which employee loves trying to manage two different corporate accounts at the same time?"

The villa fell into a chorus of oohs, and, feeling particularly messy, you didn't think on it as your eyes locked directly onto Rafe, narrowing your eyes and beckoning him forward with a single finger. 

Rafe didn’t look the least bit upset as he got up, making his way towards you. He actually looked amused, happy you were acknowledging him. Pleased, even.

And it made you even madder as he came to a stop in front of you. But you didn’t let it show, fixing him with a bitter smile. "Time for an audit, baby boy." you teased.

And Rafe raised a single eyebrow, crossing his arms as he towered over you, veins in his arms flexing. “That’s a new one,” he tilts his head. “What happened to ‘big guy’?”

Your jaw clenched as you fixed him with an unamused expression. “You tell me.”

“I’ve been tryin’.” He says, both of you completely forgetting there are indeed people watching, especially two people in particular, as his voice drops its teasing tone.

You simply huff, jerking your head to the side. “Shut up. Get your ass in the chair.” You bite out, moving to put your hand on the lever, shifting your weight as you watch him climb into the seat.

“Yes, ma’am.” He throws out carelessly, sitting down with his hands in his lap, waiting. His words send a heat crawling up your neck but you use those emotions to pull the lever, dropping Rafe into the pool of goo, most of it getting on his chest and neck.

And you couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed the length of his body as he stood up, pink slime dripping down, curving over his shoulders, filling the valleys between his abs as he exited the pool, wiping the little bit that did get on his face.

And as you watched him, you had two people watching you. And Theo and Sofia did not look happy, by any means.

Snapping out of your stupor when Rafe, once again catches you staring and sends a slow smirk your way, you turn on your heel, walk straight over to Theo and climb onto his lap, wounding your legs around his waist, and plant a sloppy, slow kiss that had everyone else cheering but had Rafe’s jaw clenching so hard, he swore he felt something pop.

After you, Sofia was the next to step out, and she didn’t look as graceful as she’d hoped because of the fact she’d already been dunked. She did a sexy dance across the table, eyeing all of the boys, shooting them looks before setting her sights on one guy.

She marched straight over to Rafe, not without a glare towards you, so fast you barely caught it. She leaned in, wrapping her arms around his neck, as you swore you saw him sigh heavier than ever right before she pressed her lips against his, attempting to deepen the kiss into something more.

But Rafe cut the kiss short. After a split second, he turned his face away from hers, his hands catching her shoulders.

Everyone looked shocked, JJ letting out a low whistle, muttering under his breath. "Oh, damn." 

This was the first time the original girls, and specifically you, had ever seen Rafe reject Sofia’s advances, as he claimed he did, in person. And, somewhat shamefully, a spike of satisfaction mixed with total confusion hit you as you watched him wipe his mouth with the pad of his thumb as Sofia walked away, visibly embarrassed. Her eyes locked straight onto you, a fire in them. 

She had noticed the mere fraction of a second Rafe pulled away from her, the way his eyes had immediately shot across the table to find you, watching him glare at her when he realized you had looked away, a snarl on your lips.

Desperate to recover her dignity, she walked over to the podium, pissed off and territorial, reading her trivia card.

"Which temporary hire is just filling a vacancy until the original person comes back to reclaim the position?"

And it went weirdly silent as everyone watched Sofia’s mean eyes lock on to you across the table, tilting her head sweetly.

"Y/N," she called you out.

A few people made noises, most just stared, waiting to see what would happen. And Rafe huffed, tired of the girl’s antics by now.

You simply tilted your head back at her, smiling softly as you rose from your seat, walking around the table. As you passed Rafe, he reached for your hand, gently enough that no one else noticed. You glanced down at his hand briefly as you continued walking past him towards Sofia, what sounded like an apology tumbling from his lips fading into thin air as you stopped in front of the girl.

She looked you up and down, quick enough that you were sure no one really caught it, before speaking.

“It was sweet of you to keep things running for me—”

Theo’s face twists as he sits up straighter. “Hey.”

“Sofia.” Rafe scolds, clearly irritated as much as everyone else.

“Its fine.” You shrug, meeting both boy’s eyes before turning back to Sofia. 

“...But I'm happy to take over and let you take a well-deserved break.” She shrugs, smiling at you. “No hard feelings?”

You looking down, laughing to yourself—who does this bitch think she is?—as you tie your hair up into a ponytail, everyone’s eyes widening as they were under the impression you were seconds away from getting yourself sent home when you look back up, smiling.

“No hard feelings.” You return the fake sentiment, returning her favor from the previous night as you brush her shoulder as you walk past her to take your seat in the dunk chair. Your eyes lock with Theo’s as you send him a small wink, letting him know it’s okay. Then they look at your girls, making a small heart with your hands as they blow kisses at you, before your eyes make one last pit stop on Rafe—glaring into his soul as you can only note how angry yet sad he looks before you hear the lever click and feel yourself falling.

A wave of thick, sticky pink slime hits you in the face, the goo coating your white blazer, dripping down your neck. You took it like nothing—standing up calmly, smiling as the voices of the girls telling you that you ‘still look good’ traveled through the air, completely covered, but you refused to let Sofia see it get to you. 

You kept your composure, wiping the slime from your eyes, fixing Sofia with a cold, unamused stare that made her look away first as you removed your blazer and returned to your seat.

Confessional: You "I am never, ever one to be mad at the girl in these situations. But, clearly, this kitty’s got claws.” You admit, plucking dried slime from your collarbone, shrugging. “But it’s okay... because I do too. She picked the wrong bitch to play dirty with."

When you’re sat, Sofia concludes her turn by walking over to Miles, who smirks as she delivers a kiss to end her turn.

After the debacle with Sofia, Rima was the final girl to go, bringing her typical confidence as she did a dance across the table that had everyone hyped up. Though, for her kiss, she walked straight over to Justin, pulling him in by his tie.

Confessional: Rima "Look, I chose to kiss Justin because I’m familiar with kissing him. He’s my ex, so it felt more natural than kissing any of these other guys. I love you, Cleo! Don't be mad at meee!"

But Cleo didn't take a single ounce of offense to the kiss, knowing that, for one, it was a typical challenge, sitting back and winking at her. Rima then walked over to the podium, reading the final trivia card with a playful grin.

"Which employee is secretly running this entire firm and deserves a bonus?"

She throws her hands out, looking offended. “Can I dunk myself?” She proposed, making you all chuckle. “No, I’m serious.” Though, she laughs along, rolling her eyes lightheartedly before relenting. “Fine, besides me, I’d have to say…” she ponders, looking around before pointing both fingers at Cleo. "Give my girl her bonus!" 

The whole table cheered as Cleo did a cute jog up to the podium, settling in the chair as Rima dunked her. 

Rima then ended her turn, and the game, by walking over to Rafe, climbing onto his lap, and delivering a sexy kiss. And though you know it meant nothing, you hated the fact that it still made your chest tighten.

Because it meant you still cared.

BY the time evening arrived, the villa had settled into silence. The challenge had long been over, but the residual drama was still looming.

In the girls' dressing room, the core group—you, Rima, Cleo, and Sarah—were huddled around the mirrors.

"Okay, Sarah, we need to address the elephant in the room first," Cleo said, leaning against the counter as she brushed out her hair. "You kissing JJ? That was the last thing I expected."

“Me too,” you added, smoothing serum into your skin. “What was that about?”

Sarah let out a heavy sigh, sitting down on her stool. "John B and I had a talk right before the challenge.” She starts. “...He admitted that he kissed Delaney outside of a challenge while they were at Casa Amor.”

“What?” Rima cuts in, eyebrows shooting into her hairline.

“Yeah,” Sarah slumps. “I was just so angry, and wanted to do something to make him as upset as I was. When I told him afterward that it was just a petty move, he got pretty pissed. He said he was being completely honest with me about Delaney, and he feels like I’m not acknowledging that fact and only being pissed that he kissed someone else when that’s ‘literally the point’." She puts in air quotes, rolling her eyes lightly. "I mean, he's right, I guess. But still, I don't like that he waited until the next day to tell me..."

Sarah scoffed, looking at her reflection. "I told him that if he feels like shoving his tongue down every girl's throat that looks exactly like me is the point of the show, then he should feel completely free to keep doing that.”

You all made noises of approval at her words. 

"What about you and Pope?" you asked, turning to Cleo and leaning against the vanity. “I didn’t expect you to kiss him, to be honest.”

Cleo shrugged. "I only kissed him to see if the spark was still there," Cleo admitted bluntly. "And unfortunately, it is.” She groans. “And now I feel like I’ve just made things ten times harder for myself with Justin..."

Rima laughed, nudging your shoulder playfully. "What we really need to get into is you kissing JJ," she wiggles her eyebrows. “He looked about ready to float after you with heart eyes like they do in cartoons.”

You made a dramatic, exaggerated face of horror, scrunching your nose up. "No, please it was so weird. JJ is like my annoying little brother."

Rima smirked, sliding a glance your way as she found now a good time to start trying to make good on her alliance with Rafe. "You know... you could have easily chosen to kiss Rafe. He was sitting right there, y'know, and his eyes were glued to you."

The mention of his name made your face harden. "Fuck that, and fuck him," you snapped, side-eyes flashing across the room toward where Sofia was getting ready for bed. "I’m not interested in being someone's sloppy seconds."

Sofia didn't say a word, but her jaw clenched as she overheard the comment. Rima, smirking as she caught your shade, then turned to Haja, trying to switch topics before whatever it was between you two boiled over. "Haja, can we address you…kissing Miles?"

Haja simply dismissed it with a casual shrug, applying her moisturizer. "I mean, the man is an absolutely terrible person, but there’s no denying he’s a good kisser."

A few minutes later, the newer Casa girls—Haja, Kaitlyn, and Sofia—left the dressing room to head to the bedroom, leaving the four of you alone to actually talk.

Sarah turned to you, her expression serious. "Finally,” she groaned, awaiting their exit. “Can we talk about Sofia dunking you during her turn? It didn't even make any sense with the question asked."

"And she seemed way too happy to see you covered in that shit," Cleo noted sharply, pursing her lips.

"Oh, please, we all know why she did it," Rima added, a deadpan expression across her features.

You let out an exhausted sigh, dropping the conversation, unwilling to give Sofia any more energy. "If she wants to play dirty, she has the wrong bitch.” You scoffed.

OVER in the guys' bathroom, the atmosphere was equally tense. John B, JJ, Pope, and Rafe were crowded around the sinks, while Miles, Theo, and Justin had already entered the bedroom with the Casa girls.

John B was running a hand through his hair, spazzing out. "Is it bad that I regret telling Sarah the truth?  I feel like now she’s just trying to punish me for doing what we came here to do, which was exploring options.” He sighs. “I don't understand why it matters so much anyway because at the end of the day, I still came back to her. I chose her."

JJ let out an equally exhausted sigh, looking discouraged. "And I don't know if Haja is actually here for me. I think she’s super sexy and confident, and I love that about her. But I’m starting to think she’s just using me as some kind of piece in her game to make Miles mad..."

Pope looked just as crushed, staring down at the drain as he rinsed his face. "I was so worried after the recoupling that bringing Kaitlyn back was the wrong choice and that I’d ruined all my chances with Cleo. But honestly? The kiss today during the challenge... it gave me hope, man. I still felt that same spark we had when we first met. Just the simple fact that she chose to kiss me gives me hope that I can fix what I broke with her."

Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan from his corner. "I’m pissed, man," he ranted to the guys. “I have never had to go through this much trouble dealing with a girl in my life. And I didn’t even do anything wrong for once!"

He shook his head, wounded. "She knew damn well she could have kissed me during that challenge. And instead, she chose to kiss JJ—no offense,"

"None taken, dude," JJ muttered.

"And then," Rafe continued, his voice cracking, "seeing her kiss Theo in person? Up close? Fuck that. I could've hurled. I still haven't eaten..."

John B looked up, adjusting his towel. "What about Sofia dunking her though?” He raises an eyebrow. “That was weird as hell. It was like Sofia was trying to assert her dominance or something."

"She was," Rafe seethed, his eyes narrowing. "And that’s exactly why I don't want her anywhere near me or her. She does petty bullshit like that." Rafe let out a jagged breath, his shoulders slumping as the anger drained out of him. He leaned back against the bathroom wall, hands dropping limply to his sides.

"But I don't even give a fuck about Sofia," He muttered, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. He looked across at the three of them, his Adam’s Apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "I just... I miss her, man. I miss Y/N so fucking much, shit’s drivin’ me out of my mind."

The guys all slowly stopped what they were doing. JJ paused mid-shave, and Pope lowered his towel, the bathroom going quiet as everyone clocked the shakiness in his voice.

"I spent days sleeping outside on those damn daybeds, getting eaten alive by mosquitoes, just counting down the hours until I could get back to her," Rafe ranted, the words pouring out of him like a dam breaking. "I did everything right. I kept our conversation in Soul Ties in my head the entire time. All I wanted was to get back to her. And then I walk back in... and she’s holding hands with some dude she met five days ago? It's like no matter what I do in life, the universe always finds some way to fuck me over."

Rafe shook his head, a broken chuckle escaping his lips, his blue eyes going glassy.

JJ blinked rapidly, staring at him in absolute disbelief. He nudged John B’s arm, pointing a finger. "Whoa... bro. Hold on a second. Dude, are you about to cry right now?"

John B and Pope immediately exchanged a staggered look. The three of them stood frozen, staring at Rafe like he had just grown a second head. This was Rafe Cameron.

Rafe didn't cry. He got angry, he got loud—but he did not get teary eyed over a girl.

Rafe’s face flushed a deeply embarrassed shade of crimson, voice cracking sharply as he tried to bark back. "No. I’m not fucking crying.” He scowled, but it was evident.

"Nah, man, you're definitely mistin’ up," JJ teased, a grin breaking across his face. "Man's completely whipped."

"Fuck off," Rafe snapped, but there was no real anger or malice in his tone as he muttered under his breath.

"We’re just messing with you, man," Pope stepped in quickly, his tone shifting into something much softer as he patted Rafe firmly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we’re only joking," John B added earnestly, tossing his towel aside and walking over to stand in front of him. The teasing dropped as the trio of boys stepped forward in silent comradery. "Look, we know you're hurt. We were hurt for you.” He said. “We saw how you were at Casa, you were the most loyal guy there, to be honest. She just needs time to realize that."

JJ sighed, his expression turning serious as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “We’ve got your back. We’ll help you out with her, however we can." He let out a light, honest chuckle. "Because honestly? Without her, you’re miserable, man. You’re walkin’ around this place like a fuckin’...caged tiger, scowling at the walls and shit, and it’s making everyone else miserable.” He adds honestly, though lighthearted. “For our own sanity, we gotta get you two back together."

Rafe let out a long  breath through his nose, his shoulders relaxing as he looked at the three boys he could confidently call his friends. He didn't say thank you—he couldn't bring himself to be that vulnerable, only further proving just how much progress he’d made with you and you alone—but the desperate look in his eyes softened as he gave the boys a curt nod.

CLOSER to midnight, the house had finally gone dark. You were lying in bed, your mind spinning with a million conflicting thoughts, unable to sleep.

Feeling thirsty and overwhelmed, you quietly slid out from the sheets, and from up under Theo’s light embrace, and crept downstairs to grab a glass of water from the kitchen.

The villa was drenched in a deep blue, moonlight shining, the night quiet. You walked into the kitchen area, reaching for a glass as you yawned, when you froze.

Rafe was standing there, in the dark and in the silence, awkwardness settling over the space as you locked eyes. 

Both of you were angry and confused and felt some level of betrayal, but beneath all of that, there was an evident sadness radiating off both of you—feelings don’t just disappear and now that your connection was no longer being nurtured, it was just up in the air, and neither of you knew what to do with it.

You were the first to break the gaze, ignoring his presence, turning your back to him as you filled your glass from the water dispenser.

Rafe watched you, his chest rising and falling with a heavy, sad breath. 

He was the first to speak.

"So, you're really just not gonna speak to me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek, turned around slowly, holding the glass tightly in your hand, fixing him with a cold stare. "We have nothing left to speak about, Rafe.” You bit out. “I made my choice. You made yours."

"But I didn't, though." Rafe huffed out, taking a step closer to you, his eyes wide with a desperate fury. "That's what I’ve been trying to tell you, but you won’t listen. I didn't choose her—"

"I saw the video, Rafe—"

"And the video didn’t show you everything." he argued back, voice cracking.

“It showed me enough.”

“...So, that’s just it?” Rafe asked, hurt filling his eyes. “You’re gonna throw us away, me and you, over what you think you saw? What you think you know—”

“So, you didn’t tell her you missed her?” You asked, unamused, eyes glued to his now. To him, you looked calm, casual, checked out. But on the inside, your heart was racing.

Rafe sighed, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. “I did, but I didn’t mean it—”

“And then, let me guess, I’m supposed to believe you didn’t let her kiss you, either. That you didn’t kiss her back—”

“I didn’t.”

“And I don’t believe you.”

“Because you don’t want to.” Rafe threw out, weak. “I told you I was done holding shit back from you, that I would tell you the truth, and that’s what I’m doing. Like, I don’t understand, is this your past trust issues or something—”

“Don’t—”

“Or is it the guy you brought back? Do you feel like you have to push me away to be with him?”

You took a step forward, the glass of water trembling slightly in your grip. "This has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with you. You don't get to turn your screw-ups around and blame my judgment."

"But that's exactly what you're doing." Rafe fired back, his voice rising now, desperate. He stepped right back into your space. "You're projecting. You're standing here looking right at me, but you're seeing your damn ex.” You huffed, letting out a humorless laugh, but deep down…you knew he was right. “You're looking at me and you're just waiting for me to turn into a piece of shit ‘cause that’s what you’re used to."

"Will you stop—"

"No, I'm not gonna stop. If you’re gonna hear me say anything, you’re gonna hear me say this," he argued, his eyes wide, swimming with frustration and hurt. "I know I have a temper, and I know I've been a mess, but I have been nothing but real with you about my past and my feelings.” He pleads. “You know I’m being honest. I can see it in your eyes, angel.” The nickname had you taking a deep breath to steady yourself. It’d been days since you heard it. You didn’t realize how much you missed hearing it leave his lips. “You know I didn't do anything wrong over there."

He was almost right.

It was something that had been lingering in the back of your mind, nagging you every time the silence got too loud.

What if he was telling the truth? What if he really didn't do anything?

But then you look back on all the times you had given your ex, or any other guy, the benefit of the doubt and it always came full circle, slapping you right back in the face, reminding you how stupid you were to believe them. So yeah, you pondered on the possibility of Rafe telling the truth, but your heart was begging you to not possibly put yourself through that again, because while Rafe had opened up to you about parts of himself and you had done the same, you both still had a really long way to go before you could confidently say that you knew each other. And your heart and mind and body were screaming at you, all saying different things 

He took another half-step, closing the distance. "I might not know all of you, yet, but I know you enough. Enough to know that you're sitting here, overthinking it because you're terrified that if you trust me, I’m gonna make you look stupid—”

“You already did.”

Your jaw tightened, a fresh pool of tears pricking behind your eyelids.

Rafe sighed, defeated.

“...I’m not the guy that you’re so afraid of me being.” He says softly. “But I don’t know what else I can say or do to get you to understand that. To believe it.”

Suddenly, the fury between you two evaporated. You were standing face to face, inches apart, breathing the same air.

Rafe’s eyes dropped from your gaze, tracking down the lines of your face, the slight frown on your lips as his jaw worked silently. Slowly, with a trembling hand, he reached up and you tensed, your heart beating violently, but you didn't pull back as his thumb gently brushed against your cheek.

His touch felt warm against your face as he rubbed a spot right near your jawline, thumb lingering tenderly for a moment before he slowly pulled his hand away, looking down at his finger.

"You had..." Rafe murmured, his voice soft, entirely empty of its previous anger and frustration. "You still had slime on your face."

You stared up at him, breath hitching, the proximity, the familiar scent of his cologne and the sound of the ocean in the distance completely clouding your logic. 

For a split second, the divide between you vanished. Your eyes drifted down to his lips, and Rafe leaned in closer, his head tilting down as he prepared to close the remaining space between you.

…When the memory of the video flashed in your mind like a warning sign.

You snapped yourself out of the trance, yanking your face back from his touch, eyeing the dried flake of pink slime still on his thumb.

"...Yeah,” you sighed. “Courtesy of the girl you missed so much," you snarked, the words cutting through the moment.

Rafe flinched, his face falling. "Angel, please—"

"Just stop, Rafe.” You shook your head, turning to grab your water glass from the counter, ready to bolt back upstairs.

He let out a desperate sigh, his hands hovering in the empty space between you. "Please... just let me explain," he pleaded, his voice rough. "I miss you. I missed you every single day I was over there. I miss you even when I know you’re around somewhere but I hate that I can’t see you.” He admitted, eyes growing slightly. “Why are you making it so hard for me? Why can't you just trust me?"

Before you could even open your mouth to counter him, the sound of bare feet hitting the ground made you both freeze, turning towards the sound.

Sofia stepped into the kitchen—that's why, you thought to yourself. She was holding an empty water bottle and the second her tired eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight and she realized how close you and Rafe were standing in the kitchen, surprised by your presence at all, the air in the space turned awkward.

"Oh..." Sofia dragged out, her voice dropping into that same soft, innocent tone that sounded entirely too practiced. She stopped a few feet away, clutching the bottle to her chest. "Sorry. I just came down to get some water."

She offered a sweet smile, but you didn't look at her lips—you looked straight at her eyes.

Even in the low light of the villa, you could see the hostility written plainly across her face. Sofia was not fond of you, she’d made that clear, and it was obvious that she was furious to find you and Rafe huddled up together in the middle of the night, too close for her comfort. Her jaw was tight, a bitter twitch of irritation flashing in her eyes before she quickly smoothed her expression back over before she turned her back, filling her water bottle.

"Speak of the devil," you muttered, your voice cold. You grabbed your glass from the counter, done with the situation.

"Wait, don't go," Rafe said frantically. He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist to try and get you to stay. "We weren’t done talking. Just—"

"We are now.” you hissed. “You’ve got all the company you need." you seethed, yanking your arm out of his grip.

And you didn't give him another second, and you definitely didn't give Sofia the satisfaction of watching you argue. 

Shooting them both a final glare, you spun on your heel and sauntered out of the kitchen, your footsteps echoing as you headed straight back upstairs to the bedroom.

He sighed, cursing to himself as a single tear fell from his eye, quickly dragging both of his hands down his face, shaking his emotions off. Or, at least, trying to. He had taken one step forward, planning to return to his solitude on the daybeds and sulk when she spoke.

"Well, now that she’s finally gone,” She started, shifting her weight, a smug grin on her lips. “We can actually finish what we started.”

THE next morning, you were woken up by the feeling of heat on your face, the Fiji sun beaming through the tall window. It felt like punishment, exposing every washed out expression and heavy heart traveling through the villa. 

The glam room was already an obstacle course when you walked in—discarded spray cans, tangled curling iron cords, and half-empty water bottles.

Everyone got ready, per usual, the guys bringing up breakfast and swiftly exiting. You’d disappeared to the adjoined bathroom at some point to brush your teeth, coming back to that damn smoothie right in front of your mirror, next to the plate of eggs and fruit Theo had given to you earlier.

But this time, without the pressure of Rafe’s gaze and the desire to push him away, you drank it.

Too engrossed in getting ready yourself, you didn’t notice everyone slowly filtering out to mingle, leaving only you and Rima in a comfortable silence.

"You look like you're about to fight a war, girlie," Rima broke the ice. “I haven’t seen that smile of yours all morning,” She noted, turning her sharp eyes toward you. "And you look like you haven't slept more than twenty minutes."

You let out a dry laugh. "I haven't. My mind has been running laps since last night. This place is starting to feel like an experiment I didn't sign up for..."

Rima hummed, smoothing lotion over her knuckles. She took a step closer, her eyes searching yours. "I can imagine. The energy still kind of sucks.” She admits, shrugging. “How are you actually doing, though? How are things with you and Theo?"

"Theo is…great," you said quickly, voice flat. "He’s been nothing but sweet to me. He made me breakfast, he listens... he’s exactly the kind of guy a girl should want."

"...But he’s not the guy you want." Rima countered smoothly, her tone conversational, though the bait was dangling right in front of your face. You glanced at her, a pained expression on your face as she said what you weren’t willing to. She leaned against the adjacent mirror, crossing her arms over her chest. "Babe, you’ve got to face the music. When I walked past the patio this morning, Rafe looked like he’d been hit by a bus." Her face twisted. "It's a very hard sight to look at his big ass being all sad. He’s hurt. Like, really hurt."

You kept your eyes fixed on the mirror, refusing to look at her. "Rafe is fine."

"No, he’s not," Rima pressed, her voice dropping. She tilted her head, watching the way your jaw clenched. "And I don't know if you’ve noticed... but he’s been sleeping out on those hard ass daybeds since he got back from Casa."

"Good.” You quip. “The daybeds have excellent airflow," you snarked bitterly, your voice rising just a fraction. "He can stay out there until the finale for all I care."

“Don’t do that. I know you care. You know you care.” Rima let out a slow breath, shaking her head. She leaned in just a bit closer, her eyes locking onto yours. "He told me what happened in the kitchen last night. He pulled me first thing this morning, before the sun was even fully up. He’s trying to make it right, babe. But you’re not letting him…."

Your eyes narrowed, chest heaving with a spike of irritation that was really directed toward no one but yourself.

"Why does it sound like you're taking his side right now?" you bit out. “Did you forget what we all saw in that video?"

"I didn’t forget and I’m not taking his side. I’m really not," Rima said, keeping her voice level. "I’m just saying... he looks really damn hurt for a guy who supposedly wants to be with his ex. If he wanted Sofia, it’s clear that she’s wide open for him." She rolls her eyes, making a sound of disgust. "But instead, he’s pacing around the villa, making smoothies that he knows will probably get poured out, though I see you were more open-minded today—” She smirks, eyeing the half-full glass. “And begging anyone who will listen to help him get through to you."

"He’s not hurt. He just feels guilty…” you scoffed, a breath escaping your lips as you rubbed a hand aggressively over your face. “He got caught and now that his game plan blew up in his face and I actually brought someone back, his ego is bruised. That’s all it is."

Rima didn't push back against your words or your anger. She just stood there, her features softening into a look of sympathetic pity. She let the silence hang between you for a few seconds before she spoke again, her voice dropping into a more serious tone.

"I’m just saying... maybe we misunderstood something about what happened over at Casa.”

The sentence hung in the air and you stared up at her as the logic of her words began to fight against the wall of anger you’d been building. You let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping in exhaustion.

"You believe him, don't you?" you asked quietly, voice cracking slightly as you looked at her.

"I do," Rima said honestly, stepping forward and placing a supportive hand on your knee. "I don't think that man is lying to you."

She shifted her weight, her eyes locking onto yours. "I have looked into the faces of a lot of guilty men. I know what a liar looks like. And when I looked at Rafe, I didn't see a guilty man. I saw a man who was genuinely terrified of losing the one good thing he’s found in this place."

You looked down at your hands, your throat growing tight as your brain scrambled to find another excuse, another fruitless reason, and before you could stop yourself, the words started pouring out of your mouth.

"Last night," you whispered, your voice shaking. "In the kitchen, when we were arguing... he told me I have 'trust issues', that I’m just waiting for him to turn into a piece of shit because ‘that’s what I’m used to’." You let out a choked, hollow laugh, a tear escaping your eyelashes, tracing down your cheek. "And the worst part...is that deep down, I know he’s right. But, even then, it’s like I can’t help it. I want to believe him, that there’s more to it, that it wasn’t what it looked like. But I’m so scared of looking fucking dumb."

Rima listened, her hand squeezing your knee tightly as you opened up.

"I’ve spent my entire life dealing with men who treated me like an option," you confessed, the tears started coming faster. "I am so used to giving a guy the benefit of the doubt, letting my guard down, and then looking like a complete idiot for it."

Rima let out a soft sigh, leaning down so she was at eye level with you. Her hand moved from your knee up to your arm, her touch warm.

"Look at me," Rima ordered gently. "I hear you. But let me be real with you, as a friend—it’s not healthy, and it is not fair, to project the mistakes of your past relationships onto Rafe."

She shook her head, her voice firm. "Rafe has done nothing since the moment you two paired up but try for you. He’s been working through his own shit, purely because he wants to better himself so he can be better for you. He laid his cards on the table, even asked you to close things off, and he has consistently shown you who he wants to be. It is not worth throwing away a connection that is clearly that deep and that real...based on a fear you have because of how some loser back home treated you.” She tells you. “Rafe is not that guy."

You wiped furiously at your face with the back of your hand, nodding at her words..

"Look, I know we don't know exactly what went down, minute by minute, over at Casa," Rima admitted, offering you a small, encouraging smile. "But in my gut? I truly believe that boy didn't do anything. I’m pretty sure he might even be falling for you. Anyone with eyes can see it." She let out a loud laugh, trying to lighten the mood as she patted your shoulder. "And hey... if it turns out I’m wrong and he actually did do some shady shit? You can happily beat my ass first for giving you bad advice, and then I will personally help you beat his from one side of this villa to the other.” She offers. “Deal?"

A small, wet chuckle escaped your lips as you looked at her. You drew your lips into a tight line, turning back toward your mirror to fix the makeup your tears had ruined.

"Deal," you murmured softly. "But... I can't make any promises, Rima."

"I don't expect you to give him a pass, sweetie," She smiled, standing up and heading toward the door, hand on the knob. "Just give him a chance to speak."

BY midday, the Fiji heat had reached its peak, and the islanders were scattered about the property in small clusters.

Down by the edge of the lower terrace, Rafe was sitting on a daybed, his fingers mindlessly pulling at a loose thread on his shorts. He looked isolated, a cloud of frustration tracing his features.

The sound of sandals clicking against the concrete made him snap his head up, finding Rima sauntering down the path. She didn't waste any time, sliding onto the cushions directly next to him.

Rafe sat up straight instantly, his blue eyes wide, drilling into her face. "Well?" he burst out, voice anxious. "Did you talk to her?"

“What ever happened to ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, ‘how are you’?” Rima took a slow sip of her water, letting him sweat for a fraction of a second before she rolled her eyes when he deadpanned her. "Jesus, yes, I talked to her, Rafe."

"And?" He leaned in closer. "What did she say?"

"Long story short, she’s scared and hurt." Rima said straightforwardly. "And that’s probably the reason why it’s so damn hard for you to get through to her right now. She’s emotional, so she’s not very open to reason or logic."

Rafe let out a frustrated groan, dragging his palms down his face. "I don't get it, Rima. I told her last night... I swear I didn't do anything wrong over there. Why can't she just see it for what it is?"

"Because she’s terrified, Rafe," Rima explained, crossing her legs. "And she did talk to me about last night. When you called her out in the kitchen about not being able to trust guys because of things that happened to her in her past? She probably won’t admit it to you, but...she did tell me that she thinks you were right."

Rafe’s hands dropped from his face, eyes narrowing as he processed her words, a sudden look of curiosity and concern gracing his features as a question came to mind.

"...How did she act when her ex was here?"

Rima let out a heavy breath, her expression turning somber as she recalled the expression that had crossed your face at the start of Casa. "She was pissed. She didn’t want him here at all. Like, not even a little bit. The second she realized what was going on, her entire face went blank and it was like her whole personality just flatlined." She tells him honestly. "She barely spoke a single word to the man," Rima continued. "Every time he tried to strike up a conversation, she would immediately stand up, walk away, anything but acknowledge him. She wouldn't even look him in the eye. I wanna say that the very few times they interacted, she was either chewing him out or glaring him down.” She said. “And let me tell you, as a woman watching another woman? Whatever happened between them, it definitely left a mark on her."

Rafe sat completely still, his breathing shallow as Rima's words and what you’d told him about your past painted a vivid picture of the pain you had been running from.

"So, I guess, when she watched that video of you and Sofia," Rima pointed out, her voice gentle but firm. "She got the exact same feelings that she used to get in that relationship. Or maybe another. Either way, her brain probably convinced her that the cycle was bound to repeat itself with you. That’s probably the reason why she’s being so stubborn and pushing you away—she thinks she’s just protecting herself from looking like an idiot again."

Rafe let out a long breath, his head dropping as he stared at his feet. "I hate that I made her feel like that," he whispered, voice shaking. "I didn't want to be another bad memory in her life." He shook his head, a desperate, angry edge returning to his voice. "And Sofia being here... it’s just making everything fucking worse. She’s doing it on purpose. She knows exactly what she’s doing to her head, and it’s driving me crazy because I can't force Sofia to leave, and I can't force Y/N to listen."

Rima offered him a supportive smile, patting his arm reassuringly. "You can't force anything in here, Rafe. But you can be patient. Just give her a little space to breathe, and when you do get a chance to talk to her, don't get defensive.” She advised. “Just...lay your heart out on the line. That's the only girl advice I can give you right now."

Rafe looked up at her, his eyes full of a silent gratitude. He took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders as he tried to gather his composure. "Thank you, Rima. Seriously. For doing this for me. For me and her."

Before Rima could even respond, the sharp ping of multiple phones echoed across the pool deck. The tri-tone chime cut through the afternoon air, causing every islander in the yard to stop in their tracks.

Down by the pool, JJ pulled his device from his swim shorts, his eyes widening as he scanned the notification. "Yo! Text, y'all!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the lawn as the islanders began to migrate around him.

You walked out onto the lower terrace, your fingers tightly wrapped around your water bottle. You took a seat on a beanbag next to Sarah and Cleo. Rafe walked over from his chat with Rima, her joining the three of you as his eyes locked directly onto your face the second you appeared, watching you talk to your girls, watching your head fall back as you laughed at something Cleo said.

God, he missed when you would laugh like that with him.

JJ opened the message, his voice ringing out clearly.

"Islanders, the public has been watching your every move since the dramatic fallout of Casa Amor. They’ve seen the tears, the arguments, and the broken trust, and they think one couple desperately needs a little bit of time away from the drama to sort out their unfinished business."

A collective gasp ran across the lawn, and your stomach dropped as JJ read the final lines.

"Y/N and Rafe... the viewers have voted for the two of you to escape the villa and head out on a private, one-on-one date outside the villa! Please go get dressed and head to the front entrance. #TimeOut #FaceTheTruth #UnfinishedBusiness"

And that was when the air went still, a genuine smile breaking out across Rafe’s face for the first time all day, hope visible in his expression. He looked straight at you, his blue eyes bright, a spark in them that you genuinely missed. But one you also felt bad for dimming. But you still weren’t sure if you should.

The guys seemed happy for Rafe, even Theo clapping him on the back as they pushed him towards the villa to start getting ready, while the girls sat with you, not saying much, trying to gauge your reaction first.

Your jaw was clenched as you sat silent, not knowing how to feel, when Rima leaned over, whispering. “Just one chance,” she reminded, and you looked to her, vulnerability swimming in your eyes as she nudged you, kissing your cheek. “You got this.” She encouraged, pulling you up to drag you a few feet away from the others, wanting her next words to only be to you. “Let him be the good guy for once. Don't force him to be the bad one just because you think it'll save you from being hurt.” She told you firmly, no room for debate. “Promise me you’ll at least do that.”

You huffed, your shoulders slumping. “I promise.” You nodded once.

And that seemed to satisfy the woman as she smiled, tugging you forward into a brief hug before the gathering broke up to let you get ready, heading toward the staircase. Though, before you could even reach it, a hand gently caught your wrist.

You whirled around to find Theo standing there, his eyes shadowed with that same quiet anxiety that had poured itself over him since your talk yesterday. It was only then had you realized that you hadn’t spoken much since then. Even last night, he was sleep when you climbed into the bed, silent tears running down your cheeks.

But right now, he didn't look angry.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice low as he looked down at your face. "...Look, I’m sorry for walking away from you yesterday."

You frowned, knowing he had nothing to apologize for. “Theo, you have nothing to be sorry for—”

“I do,” he dismissed your dismissal. “I knew what I signed up for coming in and I can’t be upset with you for not having it all figured out.” He explained. “I just…I want you to know that I’m not here to tie you down or force you into anything. I know what you and Rafe have is complicated. Just... go on the date. And be honest with yourself.” He advised, though there was something behind his eyes. Like he knew what that might mean for him. “I just want you to know that you’ll still have me right here when you get back, piccola. I’m not going anywhere.” He assured. “...Not unless you want me to."

The sheer grace of his words made a lump form in your throat. You offered him a tight, grateful nod. “I know,” you choked out, fighting tears. “Thank you.” You said, hugging the man before turning to head up to the dressing room.

THE car ride out to the date location was…weird. To put it mildly. It didn’t help you’d spent the last hour getting ready and trying not to spiral. 

The black SUV wound its way along the rocky coastal roads, the only sound between you and Rafe being the low sound of the engine, the AC, and the distant crash of the waves through the open windows. You sat pressed against the door, your eyes fixed firmly out the window, refusing to look in his direction. 

Rafe sat beside you, his hands resting on his knees, his knuckles white as he repeatedly curled and uncurled his fists, a nervous habit. He kept opening and closing his mouth, thinking of something to say then immediately losing the thought, his throat working silently as he fought his own nerves.

When the car finally came to a stop, the driver held the door open, and you stepped out into a secluded cliffside sanctuary—a rustic wooden table for two right at the edge of the plateau, overlooking the endless expanse of the ocean. The setting sun was beginning to paint the sky in deep shades of amber, casting long, golden shadows across the ground. A bottle of champagne sat chilling in a silver bucket next to a platter of fresh berries and charcuterie, but all of this did absolutely nothing to ease the ball of anxiety sitting behind your ribs.

You walked over, your heels clicking softly against the stone. Though, Rafe was quicker, getting ahead and pulling your chair out for you, not making a big deal of the gesture as he fixed you with a fleeting smile before sliding into the chair opposite yours.

It was silent. Awkward. Tense.

Should you speak? No, he should speak first.

Does it even really fucking matter?

You reach for your glass of champagne after he pours it, keeping your eyes on the bubbles, refusing to meet his gaze as your leg bounced relentlessly underneath the table. But as you finally forced yourself to look up, peering through your eyelashes, you noticed that Rafe had a small, gentle smile on his face as he sat there, staring at you. 

He looked incredibly handsome in a crisp white button-up shirt, a soft, boyish drowsiness that showed just how happy he was to finally have you in a space where nobody else could interrupt. A space where it was just you and him and he could explain.

He took a deep breath, rolling his sleeves just below his elbows and resting his forearms on the table as he looked across at you.

"...Thank you. For not jumping out of the car," Rafe started quietly, trying to catch you gaze, lighten the mood, and get you to say something. "I know this is the last place you want to be right now, angel. I know you don't really like me right now, but I’m glad you’re here with me."

You kept your face completely neutral, chewing your lip as you continued to watch the champagne bubbles jump. "The public voted, Rafe.” You remind him, but the word weren’t as bitter as most of yours had been towards him lately. “I didn't have a choice."

"Well, I’m glad they did," Rafe confessed as he leaned in closer. "Because I’ve been trying to get you to listen to me, and I’m finally able to just sit down and explain everything to you without anyone else walking in." He paused, his jaw clenching slightly as he gathered his thoughts, his eyes locking onto yours as you finally lifted your head, relaxing into the chair as you set the glass down and splayed both your hands out on the table.

You thought about saying something, but then you remembered Rima’s word about just being quiet and listening. 

"I don’t think you understand," Rafe began, his voice wavering. "Waking up that morning and realizing we were being carted off... all the guys were excited, man.” He laughs at the memory. “They were hitting each other, laughing as everyone tried to pack their shit without waking you all up, whisper-shouting ‘Casa’ over and over on the way out... But the entire time I was sitting in that car riding over there, I kept you in my mind."

He reached across the table, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it drop onto the wood, not wanting to push you too far. "When we got there, I was immediately ready to leave. No joke, I swear to you. I never wanted to go in the first place." He throws in. "And whether it was cold, hot, humid as hell... I slept outside by myself on those fuck ass daybeds the entire time. And, without you curled up on me, they actually kind of suck to sleep on.” He throws out, trying to get a smile out of you. He got the ghost of one, but it was enough. “I couldn't stomach the thought of sharing a bed with someone else. And, outside of the challenges, I did nothing. I didn't touch anyone, I didn't flirt, I didn’t kiss anyone,” he emphasized, eyes boring into yours.

You listened, your chest tightening, but you kept your mouth shut, letting him speak.

"And of course, the girls were relentless," Rafe muttered. "They’re bombshells, and even worse, they’ve been watching all of us, using what they've seen to try and secure a spot in the main villa, so they knew exactly how to play dirty. They would pull me and try to talk shit about you. They’d make little sly comments about how you probably didn't appreciate me, or how you were probably already onto a new guy the second my back was turned. But I shot that shit down. Every single time.” He affirmed. “I wasn't going for any of it because nobody could even hold a candle to you."

Rafe took in a jagged breath, his face falling as he addressed the elephant in the room.

“The… kiss. With Sofia.” Rafe starts, his chest heaving as he watches your jaw tighten. “I didn't start that, angel. I didn’t kiss her back. Not even close. It was after that challenge where she'd already kissed me once, and I was screaming at her," He admits, painfully. He didn't exactly want you to know about that, knowing his temper was something he'd been trying to work on. "I was telling her we were over, done, that I’ve been done.” His blue eyes bore into yours, desperate for you to see the truth. “But Sofia... she’s always been persistent. She’s used to getting whatever the hell she wants because that’s how I treated her in our relationship, whenever things were good anyway. So mid-argument, she just...lunged forward, throwing herself at me.” He huffs, his nostrils flaring. “The second her lips hit mine, I swear to God, I shoved her off me. And I can see why you think—”

“You said you missed her.” You cut him off, your voice cracking as you shift away from him, your eyebrows pinching. “You say you didn’t initiate it or kiss her back, okay...but you gave her a reason to think it was okay, Rafe.”

Rafe lets out a jagged sigh, dropping his head into his hands. “...There’s no good way to explain this. I said I missed her… I did.” He nods slowly, rubbing his jaw as he picks his next words with agonizing care. “But it wasn't like that.” 

“You keep saying that—” You scoff.

“Because it wasn't.” He cuts you off, finally reaching out to grasp your hand. “I told her I missed the version of her that I thought was real. I don't remember what I said word-for-word, and I’m sorry I can’t give you that." He pleads. "But all I meant in that moment was that I missed the person she was. When we first met. I don't know if that makes it any better or worse, but that's the truth. That's what you didn't hear. I was not telling Sofia that I missed her in a way that meant I wanted her back in my life." He clarifies.

"I told her I missed who I thought she was, but that person doesn't exist anymore. But I told her it doesn't matter anyway because I have someone else now—you.” He tells you sternly. “She took it the wrong way, and the second she kissed me, I pushed her back and walked away because...I didn’t know what the fuck else to do.”

Rafe stopped pacing his words, his posture sagging as he looked at your silent form across the table. The anger left him, replaced by a quiet heartbreak as he looked at your face.

"And walking back in, seeing you with Theo... it breaks my heart in a lot of ways. It really does," Rafe whispered, a tear finally escaping his eye and tracing down his cheek. "I’m not gonna lie and act like it doesn't kill me to see him with you.” He says, having to choke the words out like they pain him physically. “But... I’m also not gonna hold you back if I’m not what you want anymore. If Theo is truly the guy you want, and he’s making you happy and giving you the peace I couldn't... then I’ll stay away.” His bottom lip quivering for a fraction of a second as his eyes set on yours, fighting the tears you can see building in his waterline. “I will let you go."

He leaned closer across the table. "But if you even still have just a tiny feeling left inside you from the moment we first met, from that first blindfolded kiss... then I am begging you, just give me one more chance. You can ask me whatever the fuck you want about Casa. I don’t care if you ask me every day forever, I am willing to give you every single detail. I have nothing to hide from you.” He says confidently, throwing a hand out towards the scenery. “You can go ask any of the guys who were there with me. I swear I haven't told them to say a single word to cover for me or anything, I’ve been too busy losing my mind over you. Go ask them yourself. They’ll tell you the same thing."

For two days, you had carried your anger like a sword, using the image of that video to keep your walls up, to hide from the terrifying vulnerability of your own feelings. But sitting across from him now, watching Rafe beg before your eyes—his voice shaking, his legs covered in mosquito bites, and his eyes swimming with tears—you conceded.

And you couldn’t stop any of it—the way your breath hitched, the way your lips quivering as a violent sob tore out of your throat as you let your head fall forward, burying your face in your hands, the tears overflowing.

"Hey, no... hey, angel, don't cry, please," Rafe murmured frantically, out of his chair in a second, rounding the table and dropping to his knees right beside your chair. He didn't force you into an embrace, but his large, warm hands gently wrapped around your wrists, slowly pulling your hands away from your face so he could look at you.

"I’m sorry...," you sobbed as you looked down at his tortured face through your blurred vision. " I don’t know... seeing you kiss her... and hearing you say miss her, after everything you told me... it just really fucked with me. That shit hurt.” Your voice wavered. “And I didn't know what the hell you and Sofia had going on, and I was just so terrified that I was being sucked into it, and I don't want that. All I wanted was you and it just—"

You let out a ragged breath. "...I have never been the only girl, Rafe.” You confess, teary eyes looking at him. “I have always been the girl that gets cheated on, the girl men cheat with. I’ve been the girl that guys use as a placeholder just to get over another woman, and I’ve been the girl left holding on to what was while everyone else moves on."

You play with the folded edge of his sleeve your trembling fingers, your voice a desperate whisper. "I came here to get away from that, to find a guy who actually saw me as his first choice, without hesitation. And this whole situation, ever since I got that video, I’ve felt like the universe is just laughing in my face. I didn't want you to put me right back in that box, Rafe. I couldn't handle looking that stupid again."

Rafe listened to you, his own eyes spilling over with tears as the full weight of your fears finally made sense to him. He reached up, his thumbs tenderly wiping the rivers of tears from your cheeks, his touch light.

"I’m never gonna put you in that box, angel," Rafe promised as he squeezed your hands tightly. "You are not an option to me, and you are definitely not a placeholder. You are the only girl I see in this entire place."

You sniffled, swallowing the lump in your throat as you looked into his eyes. "...What I have with Theo... It is nowhere near touching what you and I had.” You shake your head as the words leave your lips, feeling guilty. “He’s great, and he’s sweet, but... he’s not you. And I feel like such a bitch for putting him in the middle of all this," You let out a shaky breath, looking down. "But if it’s honestly best for my own sanity in the long run to start a new connection with another guy, rather than keep getting hurt and spiraling over whatever drama follows you then..."

You knew it wasn’t Rafe’s fault. You were trying to trust that. But you weren’t sure if Sofia ever planned on exiting the frame. And you weren’t sure you wanted to fight over his love.

"I know, angel. I know," Rafe murmured softly, leaning his forehead gently against your knee. "And I’m not gonna force you to make a decision right now.” He nods, but you can see how much it all pains him as he rests his head on your knees. “I’m just... I'm glad you listened to me." He says, placing a small kiss on your exposed knee.

And you both just sat like that for a while, silent, but it was comfortable this time. Somewhat, anyway.

By the time the date wrapped up and the sun had completely slipped beneath the horizon, and thought you weren't entirely fixed, and things were still incredibly weird, you weren't angry anymore. 

And your mind was open to the truth.

But now, you had to decide what you wanted to do with it.

THE second the black SUV pulled back up to the front driveway of the main villa, you stepped out with a silent weight on your shoulders. You turned to Rafe, hugging him one last time before walking away.

You had a single mission in mind. You had to do this before going forward with anything else.

You navigated the side path of the lawn, your eyes scanning the property until you spotted JJ sitting alone by the outdoor gym, mindlessly spinning a football in his hands.

“JJ,” you called, marching straight up to him, dress flowing around you.

JJ blinked, startled by your sudden appearance, but he quickly dropped the football, sliding over on the weight bench to make room for you. "You’re back from the date. How did it—"

"I need you to be one-hundred with me," you interrupted gently, sitting down beside him, your expression serious as you locked eyes with him. "No jokes, no side-stepping, and no bro-code bullshit.” You asserted. “...I need you to tell me what happened at Casa."

“Okay…” JJ’s playful demeanor dropped. He took a look at the sad, anticipatory look in your eyes and let out a slow breath, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Are you asking about what happened with all of us…or what happened with Rafe?"

You bit your lower lip, your fingers twisting together nervously. "...I’m asking about Rafe, JJ.” He quipped. “He’s swearing up and down to me that Sofia is the one trying to ruin everything, and that he’s completely innocent. I just need to know if he’s telling the truth."

JJ turned his head to look at you. "From what I saw with my own two eyes? The entire time we were over at Casa Amor, Rafe was easily the most loyal guy in that house. Hands down."

You felt the smallest bit of relief at JJ’s words.

"The man slept outside on those damn daybeds every single night," JJ explained, his voice serious. "He barely interacted with any of the new girls outside of the challenges, and if he did? It was small talk about nothing. I once heard him talking about the fuckin' weather, about how white the clouds were and what it meant."

JJ shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips. "And especially when it came to Sofia? Man, Rafe acted like that girl was invisible. She would walk into the kitchen, and he would up and leave the room. She would try to walk over to the daybeds to start a conversation with him, and Rafe would immediately turn around and start a conversation with anyone else nearby—me, John B, Pope, the other girls—anybody just to avoid giving her the time of day. He was icin’ her out."

He let out a soft sigh, looking out over the water. "I was so sure that by the time Casa Amor was over, you and Rafe would choose to still be together, without a doubt. Out of all the couples in this villa, I had the most faith in you two to stay locked down. So when we walked through those doors and I saw you standing there coupled up with Theo? I was shocked."

You sat frozen on the weight bench, the truth of his words raining down on you hard…but also matching perfectly with what Rafe and Haja had already told you.

"Oh! And after the kiss during Raunchy Races? Because I’ve heard that’s what’s causing a lot of issues," JJ continued, his voice dropping. "Rafe freaked the fuck out, Y/N. Like, total meltdown. I don’t know what he said to her but he found us—pacing, ranting to us about it. He was worried because knows exactly how this show works, and he was just really praying and hoping that he would have a chance to explain the context to you before production did something with it. And, well, basically, his worst fear came true."

JJ turned fully toward you then. "Plus, that night, it was like day three or four I think when I assume y’all got this video, and you yelled 'Fuck Rafe'? The look of pure fear and hurt that hit Rafe’s eyes in that moment was an expression I have never seen on his face before, bro. You could hear how hurt you were, even from all the way at Casa."

"You guys heard that?" you whispered, embarrassment hitting you as you covered your mouth.

"Loud and clear, babygirl," JJ nodded tightly. 

You sighed, your head spinning as the final wall of your defense completely disintegrated. Crumbled. You felt distraught, confused, and overwhelmed with a crushing wave of realization—Rafe, Haja, and now JJ had all given you the exact same version of events.

Rafe was telling the truth.

Most likely, anyway.

NEEDING to clear the air with the guy you were currently coupled up with, you reluctantly made your way back into the house, finding Theo sitting alone on the sofa in the indoor lounge. He looked up as you entered, his eyes reading the emotional storm written plainly across your features.

You walked over slowly, slipping your heels off and sliding into the cushions beside him, leaving a respectful amount of space between you.

"Hey," Theo said gently, his voice smooth. "You're back from the date. How did it go?"

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your face with both hands. "Theo... Rafe explained a lot of things out there.” You started. “And... it’s left me in a really, really weird, confusing place, mentally."

Theo watched you for a long beat, taking in your slumped shoulders and your red-rimmed eyes. “I’m assuming he got the chance to explain then,” He says quietly, a look of realization crossed his face, but he kept his composure. "Well, how are you feeling about him now?"

"I don't know," you admitted quietly, looking down at your lap. "I’m just... I’m overwhelmed." You turned your head to look at him, searching his face. "How are you feeling? About all of this?"

Theo let out a soft, bittersweet breath, leaning his elbows on his knees as he stared straight ahead. "Honestly, bella... I really, really do like you. From the second I walked into this villa, I was captivated by you, and I was really hoping that I could be the guy to...change your mind, and to make you happy."

He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours. "But I can clearly see that whatever you and Rafe have between you... is very, very complicated, and honestly? It feels kind of unbreakable.” He confesses, slumping like he was admitting defeat. “You two have a pull toward each other. And I think I, as well as you, have been trying to ignore it."

Your face dropped at his words. "Theo, I'm sorry," You started. "I've been trying to give you a fair chance—"

"You have." He assures, sitting up straighter, hands on your thighs. "You absolutely have. I don't want you to doubt that. You've been nothing but honest with me, I'm not faulting you for any of this. I'm just as much to blame." He reached out, his hand gently squeezing yours for a brief second before releasing it. "At the end of the day, I just want you to be the one to make the final decision. I don't want to push you, and I don't want to force you into a corner. Whether you decide you want to stick with me and keep exploring what we have... or you decide you want to try again with Rafe... I want you to know that I am really glad I met you. You are an amazing woman."

Your heart melted at his selflessness, tears building in your eyes. You looked at him, your voice a cracking whisper. "Non mi odi?" You ask for the second time.

Theo let out a low chuckle, the gloomy cloud above you two breaking into something lighter as a handsome smirk returned to his lips. He leaned in close, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he answered you. "Non potrei mai odiarti, bellissima." He admitted, the moment much less tense that it just was. “Your Italian is much better.”

You let out a soft laugh through your tears. "I’ll always have you to thank."

BY nighttime, the girls had gathered in the glam room to prepare for bed. You stood in front of the center mirror, fixing your hair, looking significantly less upset than you had in days, but increasingly more sad as the reality of your choice loomed over you.

Sarah turned around from her vanity, her eyes wide as she pinned her hair up. "Alright, we’ve been waiting all night.” She cuts in, always blunt. “How did the date go? Are we back on the Rafe-Train orrrr should we start cutting down the palm trees and carving pitchforks?"

You let out a breath, rounding the table and sitting down on your stool as Cleo and Rima turned their heads to listen. "He explained everything, I think," you admitted quietly. "And... I talked to JJ right when I got back and he basically verified every word Rafe said, saying he was the most loyal guy at Casa. So between Rafe, Haja, and JJ—the story remains the same. Which means that Rafe is probably telling the truth…"

"Awww," Sarah gushed, clapping her hands together. "This is good! Why do you look so sad?"

"Because I talked to Theo right after," you added, your voice dropping. "I told him how confused I was, and he was just... so Theo about it—calm, sweet, understanding. He told me he can see our connection is unbreakable, and he just wants me to follow my heart, even if it doesn’t lead me to him. But... Rafe also said the same thing."

"Wow," Cleo murmured, shaking her head in approval. "You’ve got two men fighting for you, girl. You're livin' my dream."

"No, Cleo," you whine. "This dream sucks." you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "I’m still stuck between them. Theo is amazing and he's been so great to me and, I know I keep saying it but, I just can't stand to hurt him. And I brought him back here, it wouldn't be fair to not give him that chance,” You say, nearly rambling, letting the words fall. “...but no matter what I do, Rafe is just…there, and I can't ignore it. Me and Rafe have been building a connection for weeks at this point and I've invested so much time into him, he's invested so much time into me and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I wouldn't trade anything that me and Rafe have gone through or talked about together for anything and… I miss him."

Forgetting entirely about Sofia’s presence in the room—who was currently standing by the wardrobe racks, pretending to fold a t-shirt—the original girls continued interrogating you, determined to get to the bottom of your emotional tiff.

"Okay, look—right here, right now," Rima started, leaning forward. "No more side-stepping, and no more 'I don't know'. If it turns out that Rafe is telling the truth—which it looks like he is—who are you choosing?" She crosses her arms. "Rafe or Theo? Don’t think, just answer—"

“Rafe.”

The dressing room went dead silent. You sat frozen on your stool, your heart racing as your reflection stared back at you. Through the glass, you could see Sofia’s reflection in the background, her entire body locking up.

You took a deep, shuddering breath, the truth finally forcing its way out of your throat.

"...I would choose Rafe." you whispered softly.

Sarah let out a soft, satisfied smile, nodding her head. "Well... there it is.” She smiled. “You know where your heart is, babe. So now? It’s up to you to move accordingly."

"Exactly," Cleo agreed, standing up. "Good luck, girl.” She hugs you, yawning. “Mama’s goin’ to bed. I’m exhausted."

“I’m right with you,”

One by one, Sarah, Cleo, and Rima gathered their blankets and filed out of the glam room, bidding you a sleepy goodnight, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving you completely alone in the room with Sofia, seeing as Haja and Kaitlyn had been long gone as well.

The silence in the room turned biting. You remained seated at your vanity, continuing your nightly routine, refusing to give her the satisfaction of your attention.

Sofia stood across the room, biting the inside of her cheek, debating whether or not to speak. 

And when she did, she didn't start off polite at all, letting out a sharp scoff, tossing a hanger onto the rack before turning her body to face you fully, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"...I know we don't talk much," Sofia started, her voice dropping into that fake, calculatedly polite tone that made your blood boil. "But I just want to get something out there before you start making a fool of yourself."

You slowly turned your head, fixing her with a calm, unamused stare over your shoulder. 

Sofia took a slow step closer. "I think that going after Rafe is a complete waste of your time.” She shrugs. “I don't know what kind of little romantic fairytale he’s trying to sell you, or what lies he’s whispering in your ear... but that’s all it is. Lies. I should know. I dated him. In the real world."

She let out a short, patronizing laugh. "Rafe and I... we have a history. A history that goes way, way deeper than some reality TV show and three weeks of challenges and sharing a bed. We fostered a real relationship outside of this place, where things actually matter."

Sofia leaned forward slightly, her fake-nice smile widening into a venomous smirk. "The only reason you and Rafe even have a ‘relationship’ right now... is because of this show. But outside of this? Trust me, you wouldn't last a single second with the real Rafe. You don't know him like I do. I understand what it’s like to love Rafe because I’ve been there first. I was before you."

The insult was purposeful, designed to slide directly under your skin and trigger every single ounce of the trauma you had been fighting. She wanted you to get loud, she wanted you to scream, she wanted you emotionally wrecked, as far away from Rafe as possible, and she wanted you to look like the crazy, insecure girl in front of the cameras.

But you didn't give her that. You wouldn’t.

You sat perfectly still, your expression completely unmoved by her sharp words. You let a slow, unamused smile pull at the corners of your lips as you stood up from your vanity chair, glaring over at her.

"Are you done?" you asked smoothly, your voice perfectly calm.

Sofia blinked, her smug smile falling. "...Wh—"

"I hear what you're saying about being 'first'," you interrupted, your voice dropping into a snarky undertone as you stepped closer. "But from where I’m standing? Being first clearly doesn't mean anything. If it did, you wouldn’t be here."

Sofia’s jaw tensed, her face turning an angry shade of crimson.

"You can call me temporary all you want, you can keep glaring me every chance you get, you can keep trying to embarrass me," you whispered with a smirk. "But at least I’m not desperate, going through all of this trouble for a man who won’t even look at me twice.” You quipped, hissing. “You’re the only one fighting his feelings for me, thinking it’ll change his feelings for you, I’m assuming.” You bite out. “It won’t.”

Without giving her a chance to attempt another shady comeback, you spun on your heel and walked straight out of the glam room, letting the door click shut behind you, leaving Sofia standing alone in her own humiliated silence.

WHEN you pushed the bedroom door open, the room was bathed in that soft glow, the other islanders already huddled beneath their duvets.

You slid under the sheets of your shared mattress, moving close to Theo.

He didn't greet you with his usual touch, the conversation from the earlier still hanging heavily between you, but the second he felt your body heat, he didn't pull away.

Wordlessly, Theo rolled onto his side, his strong arms pulling you firmly against his bare chest, enveloping you in a tight embrace. He snuggled you close, his grip almost desperate as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

The warmth of his body radiated against yours, and your chest filled with a bittersweet ache because you knew where your heart was leading you—but you still couldn't deny the good in the man holding you right now.

Theo tightened his grip around your waist, holding you so tightly, his deep voice a low whisper against your skin.

"Just in case this is the last time I share a bed with you."

next chapter>

i give this chapter like a 6/10, it's something i don't like about it but then there's parts i absolutely loveeee

BE NICE TO Y/N

You close your eyes tightly, but it doesn’t help. The image is burned into the back of your eyelids—Rafe. Sofia. Kissing. Twice.

That you knew about. 

You can still hear his voice through the tiny speaker of the phone, weak and distorted, yet telling his ex-girlfriend that he missed her, loud and clear. You can still see the way he didn’t pull away when she leaned in.

Two weeks of building something that felt real, something you thought was unbreakable, shattered in less than a minute.

Beside you, the sheets rustle and that’s when you're pulled back. 

Theo stirs, shifting his weight, throwing a lazy arm over the space between you. He doesn’t wake up, but just the sight of him makes a lump form in your throat.

He’s been so good to you since he got here, holding back his own feelings because he knew how wrapped up you were in Rafe. 

And look where that respect got you.

When the bedroom lights finally do click on, you don’t even have the energy to groan like the other girls do. You just pull the duvet up over your chin, still staring blankly at the wall.

A little while later, the bedroom doors creak open. The Casa boys walk in, trying to be as quiet as possible, carrying plates of food and mugs of coffee. Justin is leading, a bright smile on his face as he heads straight for Cleo’s bed. Brandon follows closely behind, looking for Rima, while Thomas carries a tray toward Kiara and a small offering for Sarah. 

Theo is right at the back. You didn’t even remember him getting up out of the bed, his eyes searching the room until they land on you. He’s carrying a plate of pancakes with strawberries and a glass of iced coffee.

"Morning, bellissima," Theo murmurs, his voice deep, gravelly. He carefully sets the plate down on your bedside table and sits on the edge of your mattress. “I did my best. You seemed exhausted.”

"Thanks, Theo," you say, your voice cracking slightly. You force yourself to sit up, leaning back against the headboard. You try to offer him a smile, but it feels barely there. "It looks amazing. You didn’t have to do all this."

"I know," he says softly, reaching out to gently nudge your knee through the covers. "I told you yesterday, I’m here for whatever you need. If you need pancakes, I make pancakes. If you need me to throw a brick at the wall for you, I can do that too." He teases, a tired smile on his face

A tiny laugh slips past your lips, and Theo’s face lights up at the sound. 

But, across the room, its noticeably miserable.

Sarah is sitting cross-legged on her bed, picking aimlessly at a piece of avocado toast that Thomas brought her, a friendly gesture. She hasn't even looked up at anyone, her eyes bloodshot. Kiara looks even worse, staring at her coffee mug, her shoulders hunched over as Thomas tries to whisper something comforting to her. 

Confessional : You “I just want to crawl under a rock.” You stare blankly. “We had just gotten back on track, and I trusted him. To see him with Sofia, telling her he misses her?” You whispered to yourself, upset. “I feel stupid, like a total idiot for sitting here being loyal while he’s practically treating Casa Amor like a vacation with his ex.”

AFTER a very tense and quiet breakfast where nobody really ate anything, the boys give you and the girls some space to get ready for the day. 

You drag yourself into the glam room, slouching into one of the chairs in front of the mirrors. Sarah sits to your left, staring blankly at her makeup bag, while Kiara slumps into the chair on your right, burying her face in her hands.

The silence is tear-jerking until Rima walks in, clapping her hands together to break the tension, rising her hands above her head like she just had the most re-energizing sleep of her life. Cleo follows right behind her, crossing her arms.

"Good morning, mamacitas," Rima starts, playful and full of love, though she looks at the three of you with a no-nonsense expression. "I, unfortunately, cannot, and will not, look at your miserable faces anymore.” She fixes you all with a tight-lipped grimace. "I hate seeing gorgeous women let stupid boys ruin their spark."

"Easy for you to say," Kiara mutters, her voice muffled by her hands. "You didn’t see the boy you were in couple with tongue-fucking two girls on camera..."

"Kieee," Rima chimes in, stepping forward. "We all saw the video. It was awful, yes. But you need a reality check. All of you. How long have we known these guys? Hm? Two weeks.” She emphasizes. “Two. Weeks. We’ve known them for fourteen days, and you’re letting them ruin your fun!"

"Exactly," Cleo agrees, just as energized this morning. "These guys are our exes, sure. But they came in here for us and, most of them, are treating us like damn royalty. Why are you wasting your tears on boys who are clearly not thinking about your feelings right now?"

Sarah sighs, leaning her head back against her chair. " We know you guys are right. We do.” She speaks for all of you. “...I’m trying not to focus on what John B said or did in that clip. I want to have fun today. But... I don't know, I’m still holding out a bit of hope.” She admits sheepishly. “I mean, I don’t know what happened during their full conversation, and it looked like they only shared kisses during challenges…” She throws out, hoping she doesn’t get flamed for her stance. “I don’t want to completely throw away what we have over something I’m not even sure is anything bad."

Kiara lets out a bitter laugh, dropping her hands from her face. Her eyes are rimmed red. "Can’t say the same for JJ. He’s clearly over there living his best life.” She scoffs, disgusted. “Kissing whatever girl is thrown at him, smiling, laughing... it’s like I don’t even exist to him. Like, was he ever actually serious about me, or was this whole thing just a big game to him?"

Rima and Cleo both nod, validating their hurt, before their eyes slowly shift over to you. You’ve been quiet the whole time, just staring at your fingernails, a knot of anger tightly twisting in your stomach.

"Babe," Cleo calls softly, tone softening as she looks at you. "What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?"

You let out a long, shaky breath, shaking your head. "...I’m just done. I’m over it."

Sarah and Kiara both turn their heads to look at you, surprised.

"I don't think there’s any misinterpretation over what I saw," you say. "We spent the last two weeks getting to know each other. We talked about things that I thought meant something. He asked me to close things off, for fuck sake. And then the second he gets a chance, he runs right back to his ex? And I can't get the image out of my head.” You shake your head, scoffing. “I can’t unhear him telling Sofia that he misses her and then just.... There’s no excuse for that. He said it out of his own mouth."

"I know it's a slap in the face," Rima says, fixing you with a sorrowful gaze. "I really didn’t think he would do that to you."

"None of us did. He fooled us, too. But," Cleo says, leaning in closer to you. "Use that video as your motivation, girl. If Rafe is over there doing whatever the hell he wants, then you need to break free. You need to start looking out for number one. You need to do what's best for you."

Rima smiles, a cheeky glint in her eye as she watches your expression shift. "...Does what you saw in that video make you a bit more open to… exploring Theo?” she taunts. “More than you’ve been allowing yourself to?"

The room goes quiet as all four girls wait for your answer. 

Everyone knows that Theo has been on you since the guys walked in, and everyone also knows that you’ve been holding back, keeping him at arm’s length because you wanted to respect Rafe.

You let out a breath that’s half-sigh, half-laugh, and a determined smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

"Hell yeah, it makes me more open," you say, a nod accompanying your words. "I’ve been sitting here considering Rafe's feelings, trying to be respectful of him, and he clearly hasn't been doing the same for me. He didn’t think about me for a second when Sofia was in front of him. So, yeah.” You realize, conviction in your voice. “From this point on, I’m here for me, just like you guys said."

"Yes! That's what I want to hear!" Rima cheers, jumping up to give you a quick squeeze around the shoulders. "No more crying over boys who don't deserve it."

Confessional : Kiara “Hearing the girls talk... it definitely gives me a bit of a push. I’m still gutted about JJ, I’m not going to lie. It hurts to feel like you’re easily forgotten.” She huffs. “But Rima and Cleo are right. I can’t just sit in a corner and rot while he’s out there clearly living it up.”

THE rest of the day unfolds, trapped in a strange, sun-drenched haze. The cloud of misery that had blanketed the villa in the morning slowly begins to fade away as you and the girls finally start giving the Casa Amor boys the time of day.

Well, most of you.

Sarah still keeps to herself for the majority of the afternoon, spreads her towel out on a sun lounger by the pool, putting her sunglasses on. True to her word, she’s holding out hope for John B. When Mattheo, the only guy who hasn’t really gotten on with anyone due to his pursuit of you, tries to slide onto the edge of her lounger with two glasses of ice water, she smiles politely, talks casually with him, but the second he tries to drop a flirty compliment, she steers the conversation back to the friend zone.

Later, she spends a good hour on the daybeds, chatting with Cleo.

Kiara, however, takes Rima and Cleo’s advice to heart. You watch from across the deck as she approaches Thomas, who is working out by the outdoor gym. She looks gorgeous in a bright red bikini, her hair tied up in a high ponytail. Thomas drops his weights the second she walks over, a grin spreading across his face.

By mid-afternoon, the two of them migrate over to the daybeds.

They’re laughing, and Thomas is leaning in close, his hand resting gently on her knee. You can see Kiara’s shoulders relax for the first time in days. As Thomas says something that makes her throw her head back and laugh, she suddenly leans forward, catching him by surprise, and presses her lips to his. It’s a long kiss, and when she pulls back, Thomas looks ecstatic.

Meanwhile, Rima is having a chat with Brandon on the beanbags. She’s twisting a strand of her hair around her finger, listening to him talk about his life back home. It’s clear she really likes him, an undeniable chemistry there, but every time Brandon tries to get her to lock things down or talk about the inevitable recoupling, she plays it cool. She hasn’t made up her mind, and she’s making him work for every single inch of her attention.

Cleo and Justin, on the other hand, look like they’ve been coupled up for months, practically attached at the hip, floating around the pool together on a giant inflatable ring, laughing so loudly that their voices echo across the courtyard. Cleo looks genuinely happy, glowing, a contrast to the version of her that existed when she was constantly worrying about Miles' trustworthiness and Pope’s uncertainty.

But your focus is on the boy sitting right next to you.

You and Theo spend almost the entire afternoon together on the large sofa in the shade. He doesn’t push you, and he doesn’t force you to talk about the video, he just provides his most comforting company.

When you randomly drop into an angry rant about how fucked up Rafe is, Theo listens, nodding along, his arm stretched out along the back of the sofa behind you.

And when you decide you want to pretend Rafe doesn’t exist, like you didn’t see what you saw, Theo is happy to switch gears, making jokes and teasing you until your stomach hurts from laughing.

He gives you the emotional space you need, letting you be messy and angry without making you feel judged.

"Alright, pop quiz," Theo says, turning his body to face you fully, his eyes sparkling. "It is time for your daily Italian lesson. You are failing miserably so far, bella."

"Hey! I am not failing," you defend yourself, laughing as you nudge his shoulder. "I remember what you taught me yesterday." You say matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? Alright then." He challenges. "What does...sei bellissima mean?"

"...You are very beautiful," you say smoothly, a cocky expression on your face, chin held high.

"Perfect.” His eyes glue themselves to your face. “There is hope for you yet," Theo chuckles, his voice dropping as he leans closer. "Let’s try something a little more advanced." His eyes sparkle. "If you want to tell someone that they have completely stolen your heart, you say, Mi hai rubato il cuore."

You try to mimic the words, your tongue tripping over the vowels. "Mi hai... rubato il... cuore?"

"Close, close," Theo murmurs, his eyes dropping down to your lips for a brief second before locking back onto yours. "The pronunciation needs a little bit more passion, you know? Like this,” he shifts on the cushion, reiterating his words more slowly. “Mi hai rubato il cuore. You have to mean it."

"I do mean it," you whisper through a short laugh, the playful atmosphere suddenly shifting into something more breath snatching.

Theo smiles softly, his fingers reaching out to gently brush his thumb against the soft of your cheek, his touch lingering against your skin. "Good."

Confessional: Theo “I know she’s had a rough couple of days, and I hate seeing her hurt. But selfishly... I am glad she's finally letting herself be more open to me.” He smirks, sheepish as he palms the back of his neck. “I’ve grown very fond of her and I plan to spend every second making sure she knows she deserves a guy who only has eyes for her.”

Though, the quiet bubble of the afternoon is suddenly broken by the beep-beep of multiple phones echoing across the pool deck. Rima jumps up from her beanbag, snatching her phone.

"I got a text!" she shrieks, her voice echoing.

The girls instantly crowd around her, the Casa Amor boys looking on with raised eyebrows as she reads the screen aloud, a smirk spreading across her face.

"Girls, it’s time to see who is really getting hot and bothered. Today, the Main Villa and Casa Amor will go head-to-head in the ultimate battle of desire in Temperatures Rising. #HotAndBothered #BeatTheBoys"

You all couldn’t fake the level of excitement that came out if you tried.

You needed something to lift the mood from whatever the hell happened yesterday, and since the guys wanted to take your kindness for weakness?

You’d return the favor.

"THE challenge will work in rounds. In each round, you all will go toe-to-toe against your original partner alongside your Casa partner. You’ll blindly draw your category and make your Casa partner's temperature rise to the goal first. The giant thermometers will track your real-time progress."

You read out as you all sit around the firepit where two massive prop thermometers tower on each side of a neon platform—one a hot pink for you girls, and the other a cool blue representing the boys over at Casa Amor.

Confessional : Rima "I’m so ready to show these boys what they're missing," Rima beams. “Because, clearly, they need to be reminded.”

A phone chimes just then, announcing the first matchup as Kiara reads the text.

“First up: Kiara versus JJ.”

Kiara doesn't hesitate, standing and locking eyes with Mattheo. "Get up." She urges him as he stands, trailing after her, standing on the platform as Kiara steps up to the tinted acrylic box, reaching her hand inside. She swirls her fingers around before pulling out a pink ball, turning it over.

"Tickle," Kiara reads aloud, turning the ball to face you all, grabbing the pink cat feather by the box. Kiara and Mattheo step onto the platform, and because of everything, there’s an undeniable awkwardness between them, but Kiara is determined.

The timer blares, and they get straight to it—Mattheo drops to his knees, and Kiara wastes no time getting down and dirty with the tickling. She runs the feather down his bare chest as he sheds his top, tracking his obliques, while Mattheo returns the favor, dragging his fingers up her inner thighs and along her ribs. It’s hilarious but actually kind of sexy as they give it their absolute all, squirming and laughing dirtily on the platform. 

The rest of you are all screaming, cheering them on like a pack of animals.

You glance at the thermometers, noticing the pink meter climbing steady, but suddenly, the blue thermometer spikes, going up two increments in rapid succession—fuck. And before Kiara and Mattheo can hit the threshold, a loud ding echoes as the blue meter hits the top.

A text flashes on Kie’s phone as she straightens herself out, sighing.

"JJ and Haja have won the point for Casa Amor."

Kiara scoffs, tossing the feather aside, her eyes narrowing at the blue thermometer. "Of course he did," she mutters under her breath, walking back to the group, fixing her top.

Confessional : Kiara “Like, what was the point even? Y’all put me up against Sir Lips-a-Lot, he was probably over there tickling girls with his tongue...” She rolls her eyes.

As she and Mattheo take their seats, Sarah’s phone makes a sound and she flips it open. 

“Sarah versus John B.”

Sarah steps forward, her face fierce but still holding a certain…uncertainty. "Tommy, you're with me." She urges him forward with a single, crooked finger as she marches up to the platform and ball-chamber, thrusts her hand in, and pulls out her ball. 

"Suck," she reads, a grin on her lips.

And the second the timer counts down, Sarah goes wild, no holding back. 

She throws herself at Thomas, her hands instantly gripping his hair. She goes straight for his neck, sucking fiercely against his skin, leaving a dark mark within seconds. Thomas's eyes go wide, flustered as Sarah moves to his ears, sucking the lobes before kneeling and dragging her mouth down to his fingers, taking them into her mouth one by one with an unwavering stare.

And you all go absolutely feral, sounding like a rowdy bleacher section at a baseball game. 

"YES SARAHHH!" Rima screams, pumping her fists.

Thomas is breathless, his hands holding Sarah's face just to keep his balance. The pink thermometer shoots up like a rocket, rising steadily and fast, and before the blue meter even gets halfway, it reaches the top and Rima is reading out a text.

"Sarah and Thomas have taken the point!"

You all jump up and down, the deck shaking as Sarah and Thomas walk back, wiping her mouth with a triumphant smirk, while Thomas stands there looking like his soul just left his body.

Confessional : Sarah “Who’s the better option, now?” Sarah tilts her head, blowing a kiss. “Bitch.”

And the second they’re sat, Cleo’s phone goes off— “Cleo versus Miles.”

Cleo squeals, grabbing Justin as she struts over to the box, pulling out the category— Kiss.

"Oh, I am ready," she purrs, and the buzzer sounds without her wasting a single second.

She practically launches herself at Justin, wrapping her legs around his waist as he catches her effortlessly. In one swift motion, she tears his unbuttoned shirt completely off his shoulders, letting it flutter to the ground as you all cheer her on like a pack of wolves—standing up, whooping, cheering, howling.

She shoves her tongue straight down his throat, her hands running through his short hair.

Justin catches what she throws him, gripping her thighs, spinning her around and laying her flat down on the platform. He straddles her, grinding his hips firmly against hers, over and over, making her dress ride up her thighs. He kisses her passionately, dragging his lips down her jaw, her throat, and along her collarbone while Cleo laughs, arching into him.

The pink meter is neck-and-neck with the blue meter and you all get even louder as it becomes a literal race against time. Both thermometers are hovering a millimeter from the top—

Ding.

The blue siren hits first, and the boys at Casa Amor just barely edged them out.

Cleo sighs as she digs out her phone, groaning. "Miles and Sofia have taken the lead for Casa Amor.”

You all groan, defeated, but Cleo is still satisfied, pulling Justin down for one last kiss before they return to their seats and Rima’s phone goes off, signaling her turn— “Rima versus Pope.”

Rima smiles brightly as you all clap while she grabs Brandon, her eyes fixed on the prize as she reaches into the tinted box and pulls out ‘lick’.

"Brandon, baby, get ready for the ride of your life," Rima whispers to him, a dangerous glint in her eye as she turns into a woman possessed when the timer starts. She shoves Brandon backward, pinning his wrists flat against the platform as she leans over him, her tongue tracing a slow, wet, hot line from his belly button all the way up his abs. Brandon lets out a loud, low groan that echoes through the yard.

But Rima doesn't stop, she only moves up to his chest, licking up and down his torso, using the tip of her tongue to trace the dark ink of the tattoos sprawling across his body. She pins him tighter as you all scream, her mouth working against his skin with a hunger that has the entire villa covering their mouths in shock.

The pink thermometer is moving fast, way faster than the blue meter could ever dream of when the pink light hits the top, blinking.

"Rima and Brandon have tied the score!"

You all cheer for them as Rima gets up and winks at Brandon, letting him up as he pants, dazed.

Then, the final text hits the screen as they sit down, a buzz against your skin— “Y/N versus Rafe.”

You feel a fire bloom in your chest, smirking as you look at Theo, finding his dark eyes already locked on you. You take his hand in yours as the others clap, watching you step up to the tinted chamber, plunge your hand inside, and grab the final ball. 

You pull it out and hold it up high—nibble.

You laugh, wondering how you were going to do this but everyone else seemed excited as the countdown began.

Theo turns to you, and you meet him halfway, crashing your lips into his.

It’s not a soft kiss. It's harsh, bruising, as you bite down on his bottom lip, pulling it firmly before releasing, and Theo lets out a sharp breath, returning the favor by gripping your jaw and biting your top lip, sending a jolt straight to your core.

A shiver wrecks your body as Theo moves down to your neck, nibbling his way along your pulsing veins as his hands slide up your shoulders, and using nothing but his teeth, he catches the thin straps of your dress, slowly peeling them down to reveal the skin of your chest, nibbling along the delicate curves of your exposed breasts.

The girls are losing their minds as the guys howl at Theo’s antics.

Fueled by their excitement, you grab Theo by his shoulders and flip him onto his back, straddling his lap. You lean down, nibbling sensitive spots across his chest, not even hearing every cheer about how you’d already won. 

He drags your face back up to his own, his mouth to your ear as his teeth graze your earlobe, biting down just enough to make you gasp before he whispers something against your skin.

"Sei così sexy quando prendi il controllo..."

Then, lowering yourself further, you lean down and hook the elastic waistline of his underwear that was showing right between your teeth, pulling it back and letting it pluck back against his skin.

“We won! Damn,” a voice finally breaks through, laughing.

You glance up at the meters while still hovering above a breathless Theo—the pink thermometer at its limit.

Your phone chimes and you grab it from where it landed on the deck, blowing hair out of your face as you smile. 

"Y/N and Theodore stole the game. The Villa wins!”

The girls instantly storm the platform, jumping from their places and rushing towards you, throwing their arms around you and Theo, screaming at the top of their lungs as the guys dogpile on top of you all. You connect in one, massive hug—jumping around like pre-school kids before letting go.

Without a word, Rima grabs your hand and Cleo’s with a wide smile as you both grab Sarah and Kie, the five of you sprinting up to the balcony that overlooks the surrounding hills and trees, spotting lights at Casa Amor in the distance.

Leaning over the railing, hyped up on spite and victory, you all scream at the top of your lungs into the open air, chanting the same phrase over and over

"Fuck Casa!"

"OH my god," Cleo gasps, fanning her face with her hand as she leans back against the cushions of the terrace sofa. "I needed that. I needed that, so bad."

"I think we all did," Kiara smiles, shaking her head as a smirk settles on her face. "I bet they're pissed."

"They should be!" Rima scoffs. "They thought they were out there living it up, completely forgetting who they left behind. We are the blueprints."

"That was way more fun than I though it'd be," Sarah chimes in, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I would give everything to have them tied down and watch us do it all over again." She laughs, leaning over and nudging your shoulder. "And can we talk about you?"

"Me?" you laugh nervously, looking around. "What about me?"

"Girl," Rima deadpans. "We were screaming that we'd won and you were still going." She amuses herself, the others around giggling. "Theo looked like he met God."

You feel a heat creep up your neck, laughing along with them. "I had to get the point! For...all of us..."

"More like you had to show Rafe how badly he fucked up," Cleo teases. "I don't blame you. He definitely missed a good show."

You huff, rolling your eyes, fighting a smile as, right on cue, a shadow falls over you all and footsteps sound out. You look up to find Theo standing at the stairs.

"Sorry to interrupt the after party, ladies," he says. He extends a hand toward you. "But can I steal Y/N for a chat?"

"Oooooh," the girls instantly chorus in unison, urging him to steal you away.

"Take her!"

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do!" Cleo calls out playfully as you take his hand, letting him pull you down the steps.

Theo doesn't take you far, just around the corner to the daybeds. The night air is warm, but his presence makes you warmer.

He turns to face you, leaning his hip against the edge of the daybed as he guides you to sit, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

"So," Theo starts, his eyes twinkling. "You really pulled some tricks out there."

You tilt your head up. "What can I say?" you shrug cutely. "I like a good game."

He nods, humming, reaching out to let his hand rest against the base of your neck. "The underwear move," he starts. "Am I the first to experience that number?

You sway in your spot, tucking your lip between your teeth, thinking. "Mmm... I think you'd feel less special if I told you," you tease, looking him up and down. "Why?" You feign innocence. "Did you mind?"

"Mind?" Theo’s voice drops. His thumb tracing slow circles against your pulse. "Never." He breaths. "Not with you. I was about two seconds away from forgetting about the cameras and throwing the game just to keep you right there on top of me."

Your face grows warm at his words, biting back a smile. "You talk a big game for someone who nearly fainted from a little biting."

Theo raises an eyebrow. "Who said it was the biting that had me lightheaded?" he teases, inching closer. "What if I said it was just you?"

And he doesn’t wait for an actual answer, his hand sliding up to your jaw as he pulls you against him, both of you completely disregarding any previously set boundaries.

When his lips hit yours, it’s much different from the challenge. There's no cheering, no crowd, no theatrics—just a hunger that had been building since the moment he saw you.

He tastes like mint and something else, and the kiss starts deep, his lips parting yours with an urgency that makes you whimper into his mouth. Your hands find their way to his chest, palms flat against it, feeling the frantic thud of his heart.

Theo groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating into your chest. He pushes you back until your laying on the daybed, shifting his weight so he’s pressing you down onto the cushions. The kiss turns brutal, his tongue tangling with yours as his teeth graze your bottom lip again, pulling a gasp from your throat. His free hand slides up your thigh, his touch hot, pulling your body firmly against his hips.

By the time he finally pulls back, regaining his composure, just a fraction of an inch, both of you are breathless and your lips are wet and swollen. Theo rests his forehead against yours, his eyes dark, his chest heaving in tandem with your own.

He smirks watching you look at him with wide, lust-blown eyes, knowing you're waiting for him to dive back in. But he just huffs a low laugh, squeezing your thigh.

"You were saying?"

WHEN night falls, the exhaustion of the day, and the last few days, finally catches up to everyone.

Sarah still doesn’t even step foot into the main bedroom, grabbing a blanket and a pillow and heading straight out to Soul Ties, wanting to be alone with her thoughts and her evidently unwavering faith to John B. 

Kiara, determined to keep pushing forward, grabs Thomas’s hand and guides him out to the daybeds, deciding to spend the night sleeping under the stars with him.

That leaves just you, Theo, Cleo, Justin, Rima, Brandon, and Mattheo in the main bedroom.

And when the lights click off, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint glow of the neon lights bleeding through the curtains, you can hear Cleo and Justin whispering softly in their bed, followed by the quiet sound of them kissing. 

Rima and Brandon are curled up together, already fast asleep with Mattheo mindlessly staring up at the ceiling, in the bed by himself.

You turn onto your side, facing Theo. The gap between you both feels incredibly small tonight and he's already facing you, his head propped up on his hand, eyes watching you in the shadows.

"Are you still awake?" he whispers, his voice a passing sound against the quiet of the room.

"Yeah," you whisper back, pulling the blanket up to your nose. "...My mind won't stop." you admit, voice shaky.

Theo slides closer to you across the bed, his free hand reaching to find yours under the covers. His fingers intertwine with your own, his skin warm and reassuring. "Parla con me," he whispers. Talk to me.

"...It’s hard," you admit softly, your eyes searching for his in the dark. "But... being with you today made it a lot easier. Thank you."

"You don't need to keep thanking me," he says, a tender smile touching his lips. He tugs gently on your hand, pulling you a bit closer. "C’mere..."

And you don’t hesitate this time, crossing the small divide until your faces are only inches apart. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, the faint scent of him wrapping around you.

"I don’t like to see you cry," Theo whispers, his hand leaving yours to gently cup the side of your face. His thumb traces your cheekbone, his touch feather-light. "I mean it. Sei bellissima."

Your breath hitches as you take a deep one, and you can’t stop yourself as you look at his lips, then back up to his eyes, and for the first time in days, the knot in your chest melts away.

You don’t pull back. Instead, you lean forward, closing the remaining distance between you.

When your lips meet Theo’s, it’s soft. He kisses you with a certain gentleness that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand shifts to the back of your neck, his fingers pulling you in as he deepens the kiss, pulling you completely against him, lips slotting against yours, tongue dipping inside just enough to tease.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathing a bit heavier and Theo rests his forehead against yours, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping him.

"Yeah," he whispers against your skin. "I like that."

You smile into the darkness, wrapping your arms around his neck as you slide against him, curling your body into his chest. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling the duvet over both of you. As you fall asleep, wrapped up in his warmth, you feel a sense of peace you haven’t felt since Casa Amor started.

But deep down, you know the real storm hasn’t even hit yet.

THE next morning, nearly everything is different. The calm of yesterday has almost gone, replaced by this crushing wave of anxiety. 

When you walk out onto the terrace for the usual morning girl chat, nobody is smiling, the reality of what is about to happen tonight finally sinking in. You know today is going to be nothing short of a complete whirlwind of decisions. 

Because the boys are coming back. 

Nobody knows exactly what they did, they probably don’t know you all know anything at all, nobody knows who they’re bringing with them, and the uncertainty of where anyone is going to stand by the end of the night has everyone’s nerves fried.

"I feel sick," Kiara confesses, rocking back and forth on one of the outdoor chairs, her hands wrapped tightly around a mug of green tea. "Like, actually sick to my stomach."

"I know," Cleo says, though she looks composed compared to the rest of you, sitting with her legs crossed. "It’s terrifying, but I just want it over with. I’m tired of guessing, of wondering what’s happening over there."

"Are you completely set on your choice then?" Rima asks, leaning against the terrace railing.

"100%," Cleo says without a single second of hesitation. "Miles and I were completely dead in the water anyway, and Pope..." She shrugs, a tight-lipped grimace on her face.

Rima nods, looking down at her own feet. “I’m still... I don't know. I’ve been having a great time with Brandon, but the closer we get to the decision, the more I’m starting to think about everything, but then again, do I want to stick with Pope when I don't even know where his head is at?"

Sarah is completely quiet, just staring out over the pool. She doesn't say it, but everyone knows she’s sticking with John B. She’s putting all her cards on the table, all of her eggs in his basket, betting everything on the hope that his kisses or lack of words in her defense didn’t mean anything.

You just sit there, your stomach twisting into a million tight, tiny knots. You spent the whole night wrapped in Theo’s arms, and it felt incredible, but now that the sun is up and the recoupling is looming, the weight of it all is crashing down on you.

The boys make breakfast for everyone again, and you girls try your best to put on a brave face and have fun with them. You eat, you laugh at Justin’s jokes and Thomas’s clumsiness, and you let Theo sit next to you, his hand resting reassuringly on your thigh. Everyone is trying to enjoy the summer weather and experience, trying to pretend like the axe isn’t about to fall.

BY early afternoon, everyone is scattered around. You’re standing in the outdoor kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water, when the sound of heels catches your attention and a collective gasp echoes across the yard.

Walking into the villa, looking absolutely stunning, is Ariana.

"Oh my God," Kiara whispers, instantly jumping up from her pool chair. "No."

"Girls, boys... please, gather around the fire pit," Ariana’s voice echoes across the courtyard.

Your heart drops and you exchange a wide-eyed look with Sarah as you walk over to the seating area. The Casa boys sit on one side, while the girls sit on the other, the air deathly quiet.

Ariana stands at the center, a serious and knowing smile on her face.

"Hello, Islanders," she greets, her eyes scanning the anxious faces lined up before her. "As you know, today is the last day of Casa Amor."

A silence settles over the fire pit, everyone exchanging looks as someone finally let it be known aloud. You can hear the rustle of the palm trees in the wind, but nobody moves an inch.

"Tonight," Ariana continues, "the original boys will be returning to the villa. And by the end of the night, each of you girls—as well as your boys back at Casa Amor—will be tasked with making one monumental decision.” She dramaticizes. “You will have to decide whether you want to stick with your original partner, or twist and bring back one of these boys to explore a new connection."

She pauses, letting the words hang in the air.

"I must also remind you," Ariana adds, her tone turning ominous, "that if you do not wish to bring someone back from Casa Amor, but you also do not wish to remain in your original couple... you may decide to remain single.” She informs, her expression softening into something genuinely supportive. "It’s going to be a tough night, but remember—do what is best for you. Have fun, look after your hearts, and good luck.” She smiles pitifully. “I will see you all tonight."

With a final click of her heels, Ariana turns and walks out of the villa, leaving you all sitting around worldlessly.

AS soon as the gathering breaks up, Theo catches your eye and jerks his head toward the daybeds, silently asking to pull you for a chat. You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat, and follow him over to the Speakeasy.

The two of you sit down facing each other, the space between you heavy. Theo looks at you, his eyes serious but still gentle.

"Alright, bella," he grunts, breaking the ice and taking a deep breath as he adjusts in his seat. "I don't want to pressure you, but…I need to know what you’re thinking."

You look at him, taking in his handsome face, his kind eyes, and the genuine worry etched into his forehead. "...I want to know where your head is at first."

Theo lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Me? I’ve been enjoying every second of getting to know you. I like you, piccola,” he flirts. “You are the most incredible, beautiful, and genuine girl I have ever met in my life. Sleeping in the bed with you last night... kissing you... it just confirmed everything for me. I didn’t come in here looking for anything, but I found you anyway."

Small tears prick the corners of your eyes, and you have to look down at your hands to keep from crying, cursing yourself. "You are literally one of the sweetest, most amazing guys I have ever met.” You laugh. “And I’m not just saying that. Getting to know you has been the best part of this so far."

"...But?" Theo prompts softly, sensing the hesitation in your voice.

"But... I can't give you a straightforward answer right now," you confess, your voice cracking as you look back up at him. "I am so sorry. I hate to keep you waiting. I hate feeling like I’m keeping you on a string, because you deserve a girl who can look you in the eye right now and tell you exactly what she’s going to do. But I'm still so confused. My head is a mess, and I don't want to give you an answer right now, promise you something, and then switch up at the last second." You pout. "That wouldn’t be fair to you."

Theo looks at you for a long moment, the silence stretching between you. For a second, you’re terrified he’s going to get angry, that he’s going to walk away. But he just lets out a quiet sigh and reaches out, taking both of your hands in his.

You meet his eyes, a tear finally escaping and rolling down your cheek.

"I understand," Theo says. "And, hey, no matter what happens tonight... no matter what decision you make, I want you to know that I enjoyed getting to talk to you, getting to know you. Even just sleeping in that bed next to you, feeling you close to me... it was perfect. I’ve only known you for a few days, bella, but I know that you will always be in my mind. You are an unforgettable girl." He tells you firmly. "So don't worry about me. Do what you need to do."

You fix him with a sad, half-hearted smile. "You don't hate me?" and you hate how small you sound.

But Theo just looks at you, eyes full of pity. "I could never hate you."

You nod tearfully, overwhelmed by his kindness as he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face in your hair. 

Theo is the perfect guy on paper, the perfect guy in reality—so why is your heart still painfully aching for the boy who broke it?

THE conversation with Theo leaves you feeling emotionally exhausted and you leave the Speakeasy, wiping your tears, desperately needing to talk to someone who isn't involved in the love triangle you’ve created for yourself.

You spot Sarah sitting alone on the beanbags, and you head straight for her. The second she sees your face, her expression softens, and she opens her arms up for you. You sink onto the edge of her beanbag, burying your face in her shoulder as a fresh wave of tears overtakes you.

"Oh, sweetie," Sarah coos, rubbing your back gently as you cry. "It’s okay."

After a few minutes, you pull back, wiping your eyes. "I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset...."

"Yes, you do. Don't apologize," Sarah says firmly, taking your hand. "I’m not far behind you."

You look at her, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. "How are you doing this? How can you still hold out so much hope on John B after seeing that video?"

Sarah lets out a long breath, looking out. "John B and I, we’ve been through a lot here already. And when I looked at that video, I really forced myself to dissect it. Some things can be so easily taken out of context. He was kissing Delaney, yes, but it looked like a challenge. I have to trust that he’s just playing the game, that his heart is still with me.” She tells you honestly. “If I don't have faith in him, then what did I come here for?"

She turns back to face you, her eyes warm. "But listen to me. No one, and I mean no one, is judging you for exploring Theo right now. Nobody is judging you for being uncertain about Rafe. If I had gotten a video of John B kissing his ex, hearing him tell her that he missed her? I’d be pretty fucking pissed, too.” She comforts. “Don’t kick yourself so much."

"That’s the thing," you sob, fresh tears spilling over your eyelashes. "I don't know what to do. I’m stuck. Half of me wants to have faith in Rafe... but then the other half says there’s nothing left to have faith in. I saw it with my own eyes. But then... what if I misunderstood something? I don't want to drag Theo along if I’m just going to run back to Rafe. But what if I really grow to like Theo, even more than Rafe? And if I didn't misunderstand anything, and I do decide to give Rafe another chance thinking I did... I will have just let a really good guy go and completely fucked myself over, basically." You rant.

Sarah pulls you into another tight hug. "I know. I know it’s a horrible position to be in. But you need to chill.” She laughs. “You being stuck between a rock and a hard place right now... it is not your fault. Rafe put you in this position, not you. You're going to make the right choice at the end of the day. And whatever choice you make at that fire pit, we're all behind you."

THE afternoon flies by in a blur, and before you know it, the dreaded text arrives.

Cleo picks up her phone from the kitchen counter. "I’ve got a text!"

"Oh God, here we go," Kiara whispers, clutching her stomach.

"Girls," Cleo reads, her voice trembling slightly. "Tonight, the boys will be returning to the villa and it will be time to make your final decisions. Please, get ready for tonight’s recoupling. #TheUltimateChoice #CasaNoMore"

The text serves as the final reminder that the countdown has basically just hit zero.

AN hour later, the makeup room is a mess. But unlike the previous nights where the room was filled with giggles and gossip, it’s incredibly serious. Now that the moment is actually here, everyone is being a lot more open about what they’re really thinking.

Sarah is sitting in front of the mirror, carefully applying a dark red lipstick. "I’m just going to hope for the best. My heart is with John B, and I’m sticking with him. Whatever happens, happens."

Kiara is zipping up her dress, her hands shaking. "Guys…my mind still isn't made up. I’m terrified.” She breathes out. “...And it doesn't help that Thomas and I kissed yesterday.” She says, the girls gasping as she blushes. “It felt really good, and it made me feel wanted for the first time in a while. I’m still torn, but..."

Cleo looks at herself in the full-length mirror, smoothing down a tight, emerald-green gown. "Well, it should be no surprise to anyone what my decision is going to be tonight.” She beams. “Justin has been a dream."

Rima is curling her hair, her expression unreadable. She catches Cleo’s eye in the mirror as she raises an expectant brow at her. "Oh, you girls are just going to have to wait and see. I’ve made my choice, but I’m keeping it under wraps. You know I like being dramatic." she shrugs cutely.

Suddenly, all four pairs of eyes turn, locking onto you. 

You’re standing in the corner, wearing a breathtaking dress that hugs you perfectly, but your face is drained and the silence stretches as they wait for you to give them something.

You look at your reflection, swallowing hard, and offer a very vague smile but no words. And before anyone can press you for more, a loud tone echoes, you picking up your phone and reading out the text.

“Islanders, please gather at the fire pit immediately. It is time for tonight’s recoupling.”

This is it. 

There’s no more time to think. No more time to cry.

And as you walk out, you find the Casa Amor boys waiting at the bottom of the stairs. 

Theo’s eyes lock onto you the second you appear, a soft expression crossing his face. He steps forward, offering you his arm with a quiet smile. You take it, your fingers trembling against his skin as the boys guide you girls over to the firepit.

And standing at the center of it all is Ariana.

The walk to the fire pit feels like a death march, and you and the girls take your seats on the semi-circular bench, while the Casa boys are told to stand next to Ariana. 

The crackle of the fire pit is the only sound breaking the silence of the night.

Ariana looks at everyone, her expression serious. "Islanders... welcome to, one of, the most important recouplings you will face during your time here."

She turns her attention to the line of Casa boys first. "Before we begin, I want to ask the boys... how did you find your experience here in the villa?"

Justin smiles, stepping forward slightly to speak first. "I loved it. It’s been an incredible experience, and I met an amazing girl. I could’ve been happier coming in but I couldn’t be any happier tonight."

Thomas nods in agreement. "Yeah, same here. It was a breath of fresh air, I appreciated the familiar faces, and I’m really grateful for the new ones."

Brandon and Theo both express similar sentiments, with Theo catching your eye and giving you a soft, supportive nod. "It was unforgettable," Theo says clearly.

But then, Ariana turns to the final boy. "Mattheo? How was your experience?"

Mattheo stands with his arms crossed, a dark scowl firmly etched onto his face. He lets out a loud, mocking scoff. "Honestly, I felt like coming here was a total waste of time.” He shrugs. “The girls here were completely closed off, stuck in the past, and I don’t think I was given a fair chance."

A collective murmur echoes from the girls and you feel anger pierce through you. After everything you’ve been through over the last forty-eight hours, you were not in the mood.

You lean forward, glaring directly at Mattheo across the fire pit. "Oh, please, Mattheo,” you hiss. “You’re literally just mad that for the first time in your life, you didn’t get what you wanted."

Everyone let out muffled sounds, while Mattheo’s face turns a bright, angry shade of red. He glares at you, but he doesn't dare say another word.

Ariana breaks the tension, an amused smirk playing on her lips before she turns her attention toward the girls. "Girls... I want to hear from you. Tell me how you felt about your Casa Amor experience, and where your faith and trust in your original boys stood, and stands, tonight."

Sarah is the first one prompted to speak, her hands clasped in front of her. "I was really excited for Casa Amor at first. And I had a wonderful time getting to know the boys and reconnecting with Thomas.” She shouts out. “But the entire time, I was really just thinking about John B. Getting that video... it hurt, I’m not going to lie. But I’m excited, and honestly terrified, to find out what he chose to do at the end of the day."

Kiara speaks up next, her voice trembling slightly. "Coming into Casa Amor... my spirits were already pretty low, to be fair. JJ and I weren't on the greatest terms before he left, and I was really trying to be positive throughout this whole experience. But getting that video... it made a really big dent on any confidence I had left in him. At the end of the day, I came here to find love, and that’s what I’m going to pursue, whether it’s with him or someone else."

Cleo goes third, looking confident. "I was super excited for Casa Amor, especially considering that I think my experience with the original boys had been really rocky or not as smooth as I had hoped coming in.” She speaks honestly. “I was excited for the opportunity to explore new connections. I will say, I was a little bit disappointed at first to see that these guys weren't brand new and that we were familiar with them in one way or another, but I’m still so grateful they came, and I truly believe I made the connection I've been waiting for."

Rima starts next, a grin on her face. "I was basically jumping for joy over Casa Amor,” She says excitedly, breaking the ice. “I could not wait for the opportunity to meet new guys. I agree with Cleo, realizing these were all past flames and exes was a little bit disappointing. But I met some pretty great guys regardless."

Finally, Ariana’s eyes land on you. "And you? How was your Casa Amor experience?"

You take a deep breath, thinking on your words. Your heart is pounding so loudly, you’re terrified everyone can hear it.

"Coming into Casa Amor, I didn't feel the greatest," you say, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. "I felt like Rafe and I were finally regaining our footing and getting back to that amazing place we were in when we first met. I was really starting to feel that pull toward him again that I felt during our first kiss."

You pause, taking a shaky breath, your eyes briefly flickering to Theo.

"But Casa Amor has been a rollercoaster. I’ve met some amazing guys here... some even greater guys who make me feel incredibly special and who even teach me flirty things in Italian," you add, a small, cheeky smile playing on your lips as a subtle nod is sent to Theodore, who blushes, ducking his head. "But... after getting that video from Casa... it changed my outlook on what I thought was a solid connection. It broke my trust. But at the end of the day, all I can do now is follow my heart and do what’s best for me."

Ariana nods slowly, her eyes full of sympathy. "Thank you, girls, for your honesty.” Ariana throws out. “Now... it is officially time for the decisions to be made.” She turns serious. “...I will ask each of you whether you would like to couple up with one of the boys from Casa Amor, to return to your original couple, or whether you would like to remain single," she explains. “You will then get to find out what your boys have decided as they re-enter the villa.”

The air is silent, everyone is still, hearts racing as you await Ariana’s next words.

"...Kiara," Ariana calls out. "Please, stand up." Kiara stands, her hands tightly gripping the fabric of her dress. "Kiara, you were coupled up with JJ before Casa. Tonight, you have the choice to stick with him, or twist and couple up with one of the Casa Amor boys. What is your decision?"

Kiara swallows hard, looking across at Thomas before looking back at Ariana. "Tonight... I am choosing…” She swallows, eyes tearing up. “...to stick with JJ."

A quiet murmur goes through the Casa boys and Thomas looks down, a sad but respectful expression on his face.

"I am making this decision," Kiara explains, her voice cracking slightly, "because in my connection with JJ... I can’t say I’ve always felt the most secure. But the spark I felt with him is something I have never felt with anyone else before. I’m hoping that he was simply having his fun, or maybe it was all just a big misunderstanding.” She continues. “I made a really great connection with Thomas here, and he’s an amazing guy, but...I don't think that connection overtakes the one I believe I have with JJ."

"Thank you, Kiara," Ariana says, nodding. "You have chosen to stay coupled up with JJ.” She emphasizes. “I must remind you that if JJ returns from Casa Amor alone, he is all yours. But if he returns coupled up with a new girl... you will be left single and vulnerable.” She says, eyes steady as silence overtakes the firepit. “It’s time…to see what JJ decided."

Ariana looks toward the main villa doors, everyone else following.

Everyone holds their breath, and for a few agonizing seconds, there’s nothing. 

Then, you see a pair of feet round the corner.

JJ walks out.

As he walks down into the villa, he appears to be completely alone. Kiara lets out a hopeful breath, a smile starting to form on her face—until JJ fully turns the corner.

Walking right beside him, her hand tucked firmly into his arm, is a new girl. 

A stunning, dark-skinned girl—bright smile, sharp eyes.

Kiara’s smile instantly vanishes, face turning completely pale as your jaw drops. JJ looks up, his eyes landing on her standing alone at the fire pit, and his face floods with embarrassment. He hangs his head slightly as he walks over, leading Haja to stand next to Ariana with him.

"JJ, Haja... welcome back," Ariana says smoothly. "JJ, as you can see, Kiara is standing here completely alone because she chose to stay loyal to you.” She tells sadly. “How does it feel to see her standing there?"

JJ scratches the back of his neck, refusing to look Kiara in the eye. "Uh, it feels terrible.” He winces. “I can’t lie, it really does. I feel bad seeing Kie standing there alone."

“Yeah, right,” Kiara scoffs, shuffling on her feet.

"Why did you choose to couple up with Haja?" Ariana asks, cutting the tension.

"I just... I wasn't feeling confident in my connection with Kie before I left," JJ admits, his voice low. "I think we were just way too different and that we would’ve clashed sooner or later. I am really sorry that I didn't get the chance to discuss that with Kie before..."

Ariana turns back to Kiara. "Kiara, how do you feel?”

“Stupid.” She shrugs, fighting tears. “I feel really stupid.” is all she says, all she can manage to say.

And Ariana understands as she fixes the girl with a pitiful pout, speaking once more to her. “Kiara, because JJ has coupled up with Haja from Casa Amor, that means you are now officially single and vulnerable. Please, take your seat. JJ and Haja, you may also sit." 

Kiara sits down, her jaw clenched tight, staring blankly ahead, completely ignoring JJ’s gaze as he sits on the farthest edge of the cushion with Haja by his side.

"Sarah," Ariana calls out. "Please, stand." Sarah stands up, her chest rising and falling with an anxious breath. "Sarah, you were coupled up with John B before Casa Amor.” She starts. “After this experience, what is your decision tonight?"

"To say this week has been easy would be a lie," Sarah begins, her voice trembling slightly before she finds her footing. "I think John B and I have had our fair share of ups and downs since the moment we met, and we definitely don't always make things easy for ourselves." She pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat.

"When that video clip came through... I’m not going to sit here and pretend I didn't have doubts. I spent the last few days in my head, feeling terrified, and honestly, wanting to protect myself from getting hurt. And I know it would be so much easier to just choose a new guy and save myself..." A tear slips down her cheek, yet a soft smile touching her lips.

"But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that you can't build something real if you run the second things get terrifying. What I have with this boy isn't perfect, but it’s the most real thing I've ever felt. At the end of the day, my faith in what we’ve built is stronger than my fear of what might have happened. So, I’m choosing to trust him." Sarah takes one final breath, shoulders square.

"I would like to stay with John B."

Ariana smiles. "Thank you, Sarah," she says, giving her the same warning about the consequences if John B twists. "Without much more waiting, it’s time to see what John B decided…"

Once again, all eyes dart to the villa doors and the silence is deafening.

Then, John B rounds the corner. He walks into the villa, hands in his pockets... completely alone.

You allow yourselves to release the breaths you were holding, Sarah visibly relaxing as everyone starts clapping loudly, and Sarah instantly brings her hands to her mouth, tears of joy spilling over her cheeks as John B breaks into a grin, lightly jogging down the path straight into her arms. 

He lifts her off her feet, spinning her around as she cries into his neck.

When they finally pull apart, John B stands next to her, his arm wrapped tightly around Sarah’s shoulders.

"John B, Sarah chose to stay loyal to you, and you have done the same," Ariana smiles. "How was the decision for you?"

"Casa was definitely fun, Ariana," John B admits honestly, rubbing Sarah’s shoulder. "I was open to exploring at first, and obviously the whole ex thing was a…shocker.” He lets out awkwardly. “But to be completely fair, Sarah never left my mind once. I wouldn't throw away what we have for anything."

Sarah smiles and everyone claps as the reunited couple takes their seat.

"Rima," Ariana calls next. "It’s your turn." Rima stands up, smoothing down her dress as the fire pit goes quiet, everyone leaning in, desperate to know what she’s going to do. "Rima, before Casa, you were coupled up with Pope.” Rima nods, chewing the inside of her cheek. “What is your decision tonight?"

She takes a deep breath, looking at Ariana. "I’m making this choice," Rima starts, "because, while I got on really, really well with Brandon, and I still think he is a fantastic guy with an unheard-of level of depth to him... there were just a lot of clashing factors with our lives outside of here.” Her smile falls. “He told me he’d be open to considering a move to Atlanta from New York for me, which is sweet. But the same way I don't want to just upend my entire life in Georgia for a guy I’m not totally sure about, I don't want a guy to have to do the same for me. I want something that feels natural, something we don't have to force." She pouts. “...but at the same time, I don’t think Pope and I are the matched that I once hoped we might be.” She grimaces to herself.

"So, tonight... I am choosing to remain single." She reveals. “I would not like to couple up with any of the Casa guys, but I would also not like to return to my couple with Pope.”

The fire pit erupts into gasps, all of you looking stunned. Brandon looks down at his shoes, disappointment crossing his face, though he quickly masks it with a polite, respectful nod.

Rima looks at Brandon with a gentle, apologetic smile. "Overall, the distance and the difference in our lifestyles was just a really big thing that came into play. While I think he would be a lot of fun, he just doesn't seem like the type long-term that would fit into my picture, but I stand by the fact that he truly is an amazing guy."

Ariana turns to him. “Brandon,” she calls. “How’re you feeling about Rima’s decision?”

Brandon nods, offering her a kind smile. "No offense taken,” he shakes it off. “I get it. I won’t lie and say I’m happy, but my time with her was great and, yeah,” he turns to Rima. “I wish you nothing but the best."

Rima smiles at him tearfully, nodding as she sways on her feet.

"Well, Rima," Ariana says, turning back. "Let's see what decision Pope has made,"

The villa is then quiet for a moment again. Nothing but the wind, cicadas, then the sound of footsteps as Pope rounds the corner.

And your heart sinks.

Pope is walking in... and he is not alone. Walking hand-in-hand with him, looking satisfied, is a beautiful, dark-haired girl.

Sarah’s eyes go wide, John B shakes his head while Pope looks completely bashful, hanging his head low, unable to look at you all as he stops next to Ariana.

"Pope, Kaitlyn... welcome to the villa," Ariana says, her tone casual. "Pope, Rima is standing alone as she has chosen to remain single.” She informs him. “How does it feel to see her standing there completely alone?"

Pope winces, refusing to look at Rima. "Honestly... I feel like a dick.” He sighs. “I wasn't expecting Rima to stay with me, to be fair, because I didn't consider our connection to be a super strong one before we left. And, even though she’s chosen to not couple up with me, or anyone, I still feel terrible for not being someone she could be certain about." He admits. “And I feel bad about the other people I’ve possibly confused or hurt…” His eyes lock with Cleo’s.

Rima lets out a dry laugh from her spot as Ariana turns to her. "Rima, you are now single and vulnerable. How are you feeling?"

"I feel okay," Rima says, careless. "I wasn’t even sure what I was expecting. But to be honest, I’m actually more hurt for Cleo right now than I am for myself. Because Pope, once again, led a girl on and didn't stand on his word." She lets it all out, turning to Cleo with a soft smile as Cleo returns the gesture, mouthing ‘thank you’ and holding up a heart with her fingers.

Ariana smiles sadly, quietly, before turning her eyes to arguably the most anticipated choice of the night as she calls your name.

"Please, stand."

You take a shuddering breath and stand up, knees feeling like jelly. You can feel everyone’s eyes locked onto the side of your face.

"You were coupled up with Rafe," Ariana says, her voice echoing in the air. "Tonight, the choice is yours.” She draws out. “...Do you stick with Rafe, twist and couple up with one of the Casa boys, or remain single?"

You look at Ariana, and a wave of emotion hits you so hard that tears instantly build in your eyes. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop them from falling, but a single tear slips down your cheek.

"I guess I have to start by saying that this decision is far from easy. I think everyone who’s been locked in here with me knows that…" you joke, voice trembling slightly. "I came in being 100% loyal to Rafe. I didn't want to do a single thing to mess up what we had built. I felt confident in the connection, in us, and honestly, in everything he told me. But at the end of the day, just like every guy before him..." you glare briefly at Mattheo. "Rafe made me realize how naive I was for that."

Across the fire pit, John B, Pope, and JJ’s faces twist into expressions of utter confusion and concern. They look at each other, then back at you, completely unaware of where this was going.

Because they knew Rafe’s decision. And everything that happened at Casa.

But you didn’t.

"I really enjoyed my time with Rafe. And I found myself falling for him.” You admit, tearfully. “But I won’t allow myself to be fooled by yet another spineless man, especially not with the evidence right in front of my face,” you huff, wiping your tears. “Especially when there is a much better, clearly more genuine connection standing right in front of me.” You smile, eyes drifting as you gather yourself in one breath, looking at Ariana. “So, tonight, after days of making choices for Rafe, I’m making this one for me,” you take a deep breath, fighting even more tears. 

“....And I am choosing to couple up with Theo."

Theo lets out a heavy breath, stepping forward instantly to wrap his arms around you as the guy’s jaws drop, the girls clapping for you. Theo pulls you into a tight embrace, whispering a quiet ‘thank you, bella’ into your hair before taking your hand firmly in his.

Ariana smiles gently, watching the pair of you. "You have chosen to couple up with Theo.” She announces, smile fading only a bit following her next words. “This means, if Rafe returns from Casa Amor alone, he will be single and vulnerable.” She tells you seriously. “Do you think Rafe has made the same choice?"

You look at Ariana, your jaw tightening.

"Yes," you swallow hard. “I do.”

"Well, there’s no better time to find out," Ariana says, her voice ringing clear.

The entire villa seems to hold its breath, the silence nerve-wracking. You tighten your grip on Theo’s hand, bracing yourself for the sight of Rafe walking through those doors with Sofia. You prepare your heart to feel anger, betrayal—

Then, a figure rounds the corner of the walkway.

It’s Rafe.

He walks in...

and he’s completely alone.

And you swear you’ve never felt your heart drop so fast and so far. 

Gasps and murmurs rip through the fire pit—the girls mumble curses, their mouths wide open, eyes wide. The guys are shaking their heads, confused and disappointed. You feel the blood completely drain from your body, head to toe, your heart skipping multiple beats.

Rafe is alone. 

He didn’t bring Sofia back.

He didn’t bring anyone back.

He walks down the path, his shoulders tense, jaw tightly clenched. But the second his eyes sweep over the fire pit and land on you... he stops dead in his tracks for a fraction of a second. His eyes look down at your hand tightly intertwined with Theo’s, and you can see the exact moment his heart breaks into a million pieces.

A look of hurt flashes across his face before he quickly tries to mask it as he walks over to stand next to Ariana.

"Rafe... welcome back," Ariana says, her voice full of sorrow. "Rafe, as you can see... Y/N has chosen to couple up with Theo…”

“Yeah,” his voice comes out weak as he glances down at his shoes, bouncing on his feet as he looks back up, eyes stuck on yours, a silent question in them—why? “Yeah, I see that…”

“How does it feel to see her with another guy?"

Rafe stands with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw flexing violently. He swallows hard.

"Uh, shit hurts. Yeah, it really fucking hurts.” His face twists as he fights tears. “Casa Amor was terrible... especially being away from her every single day. I thought we were good, so good.” His knees buckle involuntarily, fighting himself. “I was practically counting down the days. So, to come back here and see her standing there with another guy…” he tries to find the words but can’t, opting to shrug in defeat. “But it is what it is, I guess."

You scoff, rolling your eyes, but Rafe catches it, his eyes narrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you’re upset?” He calls you out.

You reel your neck back at his words. “Excuse me?”

“Well, it’s almost like I’m the one standing alone and you’re pissed about it—”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t bring your fucking girlfriend back.” 

“I—”

“Let’s calm down,” Ariana interjects as Rafe stops, huffing, trying to shrug it off like it’s nothing, but everyone at the fire pit can tell he is devastated, never having seen him so wordless, so calm and casual about you. His eyes are full of a bleeding pain that makes your stomach turn.

"Rafe, you are now single and vulnerable," Ariana says softly.

He simply hums and nods, his eyes meeting yours a final time before he looks away. And you can’t help the guilt that stirs in your stomach, but it wasn’t your fault…

Right?

"Lastly," Ariana announces. "Cleo, please stand."

Cleo stands up gracefully.

"Cleo, you were coupled up with Miles.” Ariana says. “What is your decision tonight?"

The girl takes a deep breath, fighting a smile. "Coming into this villa, I made a connection right away," Cleo explains, looking at Pope. "But I don't think it was equally or mutually reciprocated. Ever since Justin walked through those doors, he gave me that feeling I missed out on the first time—the feeling of someone being 100% on me and being completely certain of it.” She smiles. “I know I was coupled up with Miles, but that connection quickly died out. And, while Pope and I had a serious conversation before he left, I just didn't see him actually standing on his word, and clearly, I was right. I have to do what’s best for me at the end of the day, so,” she sucks in a deep breath. “I’m choosing to couple up with Justin."

Justin lets out a sigh of relief, a huge grin breaking out as he steps forward to join her, all of you clapping for them.

Justin wraps his arm around Cleo’s waist, kissing her cheek before the two of them sit down together as a new couple.

"Congratulations, Cleo and Justin…but we are not quite finished," Ariana announces, turning back to the final decision. "It’s time to see what Miles decided."

And for the last time that night, all heads turn to the villa entrance, the ‘Love Me Not’ sign flickering as a shadow rounds the corner and Miles comes bounding down the walkway a moment later, looking incredibly cheerful…walking hand-in-hand with a gorgeous girl.

And when you get a good look at the girl, your breath gets lodged in your throat.

Sofia. 

Miles is holding hands with Sofia.

This time, there’s no gasps or low chatter—it is completely silent as everyone watches the pair enter the villa.

Ariana welcomes Miles and Sofia back, informing both Miles and Cleo that they are now in new couples, but you don’t really register her words. Not even as she asks Miles about his experience, and he shamelessly grins.

You chose Theo.

Rafe is single.

Miles brought Sofia back.

You finally snap back to reality when Ariana’s voice breaks through, looking at the remaining, unchosen Casa Amor boys. "Brandon, Thomas, Mattheo... unfortunately, your time in the villa has come to an end. Please, say your goodbyes."

The boys step forward, sharing quick hugs with the other guys they came in with and all of you girls as well, bidding a polite farewell and ‘good luck’ to the original boys before the three of them turn and walk out of the villa doors for good, waving goodbye as you all sit.

Cleo is under Justin’s arm, Sarah and John B are sat together, You and Theo are side by side, JJ and Haja are sat silent by one another, Miles and Sofia are slung over one another, all while Rafe, Kiara, and Rima remain at the far end of the fire pit.

Kiara is visibly fuming, Rima is unreadable, and Rafe’s eyes are glued to you.

But still, Ariana isn't finished yet.

"Islanders... unfortunately, the night is not over," she drops a final, brutal bombshell, looking at the rest of you now sitting down. "Currently, we have two single girls standing before us—Rima and Kiara. And we have one single guy—Rafe.” She reminds, looking somewhat upset. “Rafe... you must now make a choice.” She reveals, everyone getting more confused the more the seconds tick by.

“You must choose which of these two single girls you would like to couple up with.” Ariana lets out, everyone gasping. “The girl left single will be dumped from the island...tonight."

A horrific silence falls over the group as Ariana prompts both Kiara and Rima to both step forward, standing side-by-side.

Rafe stands up slowly following them, his hands still in his pockets. He looks at the two girls, but then his eyes slowly drift over to you, sitting next to Theo. His gaze never leaves yours, burning into you. There’s no anger in his eyes—just sadness.

The silence stretches as he thinks until, finally, he clears his throat.

"I don’t think it’s any secret," Rafe starts, his eyes finally moving away from you, "That there is only one girl I actually want.” he shrugs. “And I’m hoping to God I can figure out what the fuck went wrong tonight because I am at a real loss for words.” He scoffs, almost criticizing himself. “And even though I’m making a ‘choice’ right now, I think we all know I’m really not. But regardless, being faced with keeping one of these girls here, there is one who I’ve grown to think of as someone I could be friends with, and it’s pretty hard for me to make those.” He laughs, lifting the mood for only a second. “We’re both pretty headstrong, goal-oriented, and although there isn't a romantic spark between us, I’d be more than happy to hold things down with her until I can figure out what happened tonight." He sighs, glancing at you one last time.

"The girl I am choosing to couple up with... is Rima," Rafe announces, his voice firm.

Rima lets out a breath, stepping forward to stand next to him as you all clap, tears in your eyes, not only from his words, but the realization that was coming.

"Rafe, you have chosen to couple up with Rima," Ariana says, stepping forward. "Which means... Kiara,” She starts, turning to the girl as all of you tear up, audible sniffs coming from where Sarah is sitting next to John B. “You are single…vulnerable…and dumped from the island."

All of your heads drop at her words, wiping fat tears away as Sarah bursts into silent sobs. Despite all the disagreements and petty drama, Kiara was a day one, been here since the very first minute, and the thought of losing her is heartbreaking for everyone, especially Sarah, and JJ, who looks devastated by the consequences of his actions.

You and the girls don’t wait to rise from your seats, sad, and gather around Kiara, crying and hugging her tightly as Ariana concludes the recoupling and exits the villa as you and the girls disregard every major change that Casa Amor has brought and escort Kie up to the bedroom to pack her things, leaving everyone else at the firepit.

KIARA heads straight into the glam room to start packing her bags the second you’re inside the villa, and you all crowd around her, trying to help her fold her clothes through tears.

As Kiara throws some shoes into her suitcase, the door swings open. JJ walks in, his face pale, eyes bloodshot.

"Can I please talk to you for a second…before you go?" he asks, his voice cracking.

Kiara stops what she’s doing, slowly turning around to face him. The grief on her face hardens into a teary-eyed rage. "Talk to me?” she scoffs, all of you watching silently. “You want to talk to me now, JJ?"

"Please," he begs, stepping closer, further inside the room.

"No, you know what? Fine. Let's talk," Kiara snaps, her voice rising as she steps up to him, right in front of everyone, you all watching the confrontation unfold. "Right here."

"I chose you tonight, JJ." Kiara cries, her tears spilling over. "I sat there for days, missing you, holding out hope for you! And I stood at that fire pit and chose you, even after I saw what the hell you were doing over there, all for you to walk through those doors with another girl?” She seethes, hurt. “You’ve been stringing me along this entire time! Why even beg for another chance if you were just going to throw it away in a matter of days?"

"Kie, I’m so fuckin’ sorry," JJ pleads back, his hands running through his hair in frustration. "But the closer we got... it was hard, man! It was so hard for me and I just didn't see us goin' anywhere!” He finally admits. “We're just two completely different people, Kie, and I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to tell you that—"

"No, you’re not!" Kiara fires back, her voice shaking. "You should have told me that before you left because I know you knew before then, that’s not something you realize overnight, asshole! You made me look like an idiot!"

"I didn't have a fuckin’ choice, Kie!" JJ defends himself, his voice cracking with emotion as you all step in, trying to calm them down. "There was no time—"

"There’s always time to be fucking honest, JJ!" she screams.

The argument rages on, bitter and full of unresolved hurt, until, you assume the boys hear, and John B and Pope finally step in, breaking them up and pulling a desperate JJ away as you and the girls console Kie. 

She turns back to her suitcase, finishes packing in a furious silence, and says a tearful, heartbreaking goodbye to all of you, suitcase in hand.

You all walk her down the steps, rubbing her back as she calms herself.

Goodbye Confessional : Kie "I'm not going to lie, it stings. A lot," Kiara says, a bitter laugh escaping her. "To sit there, choose to be loyal, and watch him walk through those doors with a brand new girl on his arm? It’s humiliating. But more than anything, I’m just…angry." She leans forward. " It just proves to me that he wasn't mature enough for what we had. That Thomas was right—maybe guys like JJ don’t ever change. And you know what? It’s his loss. And even though I am gutted to be walking out tonight because of him, I’m also so grateful for what I did find here.” She smiles. “Despite everything that might’ve been thrown around or said, those girls are my sisters for life. I’m gonna miss them.” Kiara wipes a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand, lifting her chin high as she gives a final nod to the camera. "My Love Island journey cut short, and it definitely didn't end the way I wanted it to. But I’m walking out of here with my head held high, my dignity intact, and knowing I was completely true to myself. JJ can have his fun.” She shrugs, throwing up a peace sign. “I'm going home."

She hugs you all tightly one by one, whispering farewells and apologies before she wheels her suitcase out of the villa doors for good. You all watch sadly as she goes, this goodbye significantly more emotional than the previous ones.

And once she’s gone, out of sight, the entire group spreads apart like shotgun ammo, breaking off into separate corners, because a lot of people are still very pissed off.

“You are all pieces of shit,” Sarah scoffs, hair whipping around her as she storms away from the villa entrance. 

The boys all look around cluelessly, offended. “What did we do?” John B points to himself.

"Are you serious?" Sarah yells, stepping forward with her hands on her hips. "JJ is the literal reason Kiara just got fucking dumped."

"You completely played her.” Cleo chimes in, rushing to Kie’s defense. “You humiliated her!"

"Whoa, whoa, chill!" John B steps in, throwing his arms out to shield JJ as the girls gain on him, while Miles and the other boys crowd around him too. "It can’t be entirely on JJ. You guys don't know how it went down over there!"

"Don't defend him!" you snap.

"Look, we got the text early as hell in the morning." Miles argues, raising his voice over the shouting. "JJ wanted to tell her, he wanted to explain things, but we didn't have time. Besides, let’s be real—they weren't gonna work out anyway! It’s not his fault."

“Y’all are only saying that because you all did some fucked up shit,” Rima snaps back, voice bitter. “John B was sitting here letting a copy of Sarah talk shit about her, Pope was enjoying getting his fly unzipped a little too much, Miles was dry-humping people like he gets paid for it, JJ was playing tongue-hockey for three days and three nights, and Rafe was kissing his ex!” Rima airs it all out, prompting one huge argument as everyone paces after another, dissolving into smaller, bitter arguments.

Rima pivots, pointing directly into Pope’s chest. "And don't you try to look away! You brought another girl back after literally pillowtalking Cleo and begging her for another chance?!" She hisses, Cleo standing behind her with her arms crossed.

"Rima, please, just let me—" Pope stammers, trying to side-step her to get to Cleo. “Let me talk to you. Please.”

"...Fine." Cleo interrupts smoothly, stepping between them, grabbing Pope firmly by the forearm.

Miles cuts in then and tries to step in front of them. "Cleo, wait, I would like—"

Before he can finish his sentence, Cleo shoves her flat palm into Miles’ face, dismissing him without a backward glance. "I do not care about a single thing that comes out of your mouth right now. Me and you have been done. Go play with your new girl."

As Cleo drags Pope away toward the kitchen, Sarah wraps her fingers around John B’s wrist. Her expression is serious, something heavy behind her eyes. "We need to talk." She isn't furious, but her tone leaves zero room for argument. She needs answers about what he didn't say in her defense when Delaney was throwing herself at him.

And that left you, standing near the edge of the pool deck, chest heaving as you try to process the drama around you. Rafe is single, you’re with Theo, Sofia’s in the villa, and Kie is gone. 

Your teeth are grinding, palms pressed into the socket of your eyes when you feel a presence enter your bubble, turning to find Theo. He steps closer, his hand finding the small of your back, asking if you’re okay when a shadow falls over you.

You look up. It's Rafe.

His face is twisted, jaw pulsing as he stares at you, ignoring Theo’s presence. "Can I talk to you?"

The sheer audacity of him standing there, acting like he has the right to an explanation or even a simple conversation after what he did, makes something inside you snap.

"Talk to me?” you reiterate incredulously. “Rafe, get the fuck out of my face," you spat. "You're a dick, do you know that? A...bald-headed dick."

"I've been told," Rafe doesn't even flinch as you push past him, dragging Theo with you. If anything, a desperate, broken look crosses his features. "But I can't say it doesn't hurt coming from you.” He shrugs, swallowing your sharp words down. “But I’ll be a dick. I’ll be whatever the hell you want me to be if that’s what gets you to talk to me.” He tells you, trying to catch your gaze. “Please."

You let out a mocking laugh, looking up at Theo, who gives your waist a supportive squeeze before stepping back to give you space, walking off. 

You turn back to Rafe, eyes blazing.

"You want to talk? " you snap, jerking your head toward the stairs. "Bring your bald-headed ass on then."

Rafe just huffs, and you swear there’s a hint of amusement, a faint smirk on his lips as he follows you up to Soul Ties, hands in his pockets. The silence between you is heavy and the second you hit the terrace, it all comes apart.

"What the fuck happened?" Rafe grits out, his voice strained. "We were good. I did everything right, everything you asked, and I walk back in to find you coupled up with some new guy?"

"You want to know what happened?" you seethed, tears you’ve been fighting all night finally spilling over your cheeks. You point a trembling finger directly at his chest. "You kissed her, Rafe. You kissed Sofia! Twice! We got the fucking video! I saw it with my own eyes—"

"Now, hold on, wait a minute.” He sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. “You don't understand—"

"Oh, I understand perfectly.” You cut him off, eyes wide and manic before they narrow again. “You told your ex-girlfriend you missed her and you kissed her."

"That wasn't the whole conversation!" Rafe shouts back, desperately trying to grab your hands, but you smack his fingers away. "I pushed her away! Every single time she tried something, I made it 100% clear that I wasn't into it! If I wanted to be with Sofia, don't you think I would have brought her back tonight?!” He tries to get through to you. “But I didn't! I walked through those doors alone for you!"

"Or maybe because Miles beat you to it!" you fire back, your voice cracking.

"T-That doesn’t even make sense!" Rafe yells, pacing a tight circle before storming back to you, his eyes wild. "Miles was the last to choose. I did not choose her. I could’ve and I didn’t. Because I didn’t want to! I am over her! She knows that, I thought you did, too—"

"A girl doesn't just lean in and kiss you twice unless you gave her a reason to think it was okay, Rafe!" You're crying heavily now.

Rafe flinches, agony crossing his face. He steps into your personal space, his breathing heavy as he looks down into your eyes. "It’s like you want to believe the worst in me. It’s like you literally cannot trust that I’d actually tell you the truth. You just assume I’m the bad guy."

"Yeah, Rafe! Because I have never in my entire life had a guy actually tell me the truth!" you sob, wiping your face aggressively. "I trusted you. I let my guard down, I actually saw myself with you after this, and you just fucked me over and made me look stupid as hell!"

Seeing you crumble completely breaks him. “I promise it’s not like that. You’re not letting me explain anything—” His anger vanishes, replaced by desperation as he reaches out, large hands gently catching your shoulders, trying to pull you into his chest to console you. "Hey, look at me... please, just listen to me..."

"Stop," you bite out, wrenching yourself out of his grip.

And before the argument can escalate any further, the sound of hurried footsteps echoes on the stairs as Rima, Sarah, and Cleo appear next to the pair of you. Cleo steps firmly between you and Rafe, putting an arm around your shoulders while Rima glares at him.

"That's enough," Rima says, her tone cold. "Give her space. Walk away."

Rafe looks at you, his chest heaving, eyes pleading for you to say something, but you just bury your face in Cleo’s shoulder, sobbing. With a frustrated huff, Rafe turns and storms down the stairs.

Once he’s gone, the girls lead you to Say Less.

You sit on the edge of the semi-circular cushin, tracing your fingers over your eyes to wipe away the smudged mascara, still angry-crying.

"I just can't believe him," you whisper, your voice thick with sadness. "He made me feel so stupid. And his fucking ex is in here now and I have to sit here and watch them look at each other from afar, pretending like they don't like each other when they were clearly doing shit behind everyone's backs." Your breath hitched, shaking your head. "I don't even know what kind of messed-up love triangle—love square—fuckin’ love hexagon I’ve gotten myself into. I'm sitting here with all these stupid feelings for Rafe, but then I have feelings for Theo who has been nothing but amazing to me. But then Sofia is here, clearly wanting Rafe back, but she's coupled up with Miles. Like, why the fuck did Miles even bring her back? I’m so lost on that…"

Rima rubs your back as you try to steady your breathing, the girls all giving you pity looks as you continue wiping at your eyes. "You know what? I'm done talking about it.” You breath. “Someone else speak before I flip this place upside down…"

Sarah sighs softly, leaning her head against the seat. "I get it, babe.” She pouts at you. “Honestly, I'm feeling a bit thrown off too. Things with John B are... okay, I'm glad he chose to stay coupled up with me, but I can't shake the feeling that he's holding something back.” She shakes her head. “Just now, I asked him about Delaney, he got really defensive and then immediately tried to sweet-talk me. I don’t know, I feel like there's something he's just not telling me about what happened over there with her."

“What is done in the dark will always come to the light,” Rima throws out. “I say keep pressing him about it. Because these boys can play guilty all they want, but they didn’t look too guilty when they were catching ass and swapping DNA.” Rima declares before turning her attention to Cleo. "What about you? What happened with Pope in the kitchen? Because I was this close to murdering him for you."

Cleo lets out an exhausted breath. "I don't even know if I believe a word that comes out of his mouth anymore.” She shrugs. “But he basically told me that the only reason he brought Kaitlyn back was as a safe option. He was convinced you were going to twist, and he didn't want to get eliminated before he ‘had a chance to try again with me’."

"Seriously?" Rima scoffs, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah," Cleo says. "Apparently, Kaitlyn is cool with it. She’s just happy to be here to see if she can find a connection with someone else. That’s what he says but…I don’t know if I believe that shit." Cleo huffs. “Plus, I’m really into Justin. So, it’s a toss up either way.”

“I say stick with Justin.” Rima tells the girl. “He’s been sure about you. Pope hasn’t. Case closed.”

Cleo nods, as if to say ‘you have a point’.

They continue talking about the way the night unfolded, occasionally rubbing your arm or calling out to you as you stared down at your hands. 

THE air in the glam room as all of the girls get ready for bed is no better.

Near the back of the room, the new girls—Haja, Kaitlyn, and Sofia—are unpacking their suitcases, claiming their vanity mirrors and organizing their makeup and skincare. 

Though, while Haja and Kaitlyn make polite conversation, trying to ease the tension, Sofia takes a different approach, making it a point to mark her territory.

Every few minutes, she casts a sharp glance across the room at you. When you stand up to grab something, Sofia purposefully re-routes her path directly past you, brushing her shoulder slightly against yours as she walks too close, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. 

You keep your head down, jaw clenched so tight it aches, hands trembling. You’re keeping it cool, but all of the other girls see exactly what Sofia is doing.

Confessional: Cleo “Sofiaaa, girl, you need to watch yourself.” She smiles, shaking her head. “She thinks she’s being cute and playing mean girl, but she doesn't realize she’s playing with the wrong one. My girl has already been pushed to her limit tonight, and trust me—something about that girl tells me that doesn’t play.”

WHEN the lights click off, plunging the bedroom into a darkness, the room feels like a prison.

Cleo and Justin climb into their bed, turning away from the rest of the room. 

Sarah and John B cuddle close, the unspoken doubts still hanging between them. 

Pope and Kaitlyn lie with a certain distinct distance between them, while Miles and Sofia share a bed on the far side, ignoring the glares they received before the lights went out.

You climb into bed next to Theo. He doesn't say a word about what happened with Rafe, he doesn't ask for details or push you to talk. He just opens his arms, and you slide right into them, burying your face in his chest as you let out a silent and exhausted sob. 

He holds you tightly, his fingers gently stroking your skin.

But as you lie there, you can't stop thinking about the half-empty space across the room—Rafe and Rima’s bed.

Rima is huddled under her blanket, peaceful. But out on the daybeds, Rafe is lying alone, a single blanket pulled over his broad shoulders, staring blankly up at the dark sky, seemingly unable to find the stars in it without you next to him.

And he doesn't close his eyes once. 

Knowing that every single time he did, he only saw flashes of you.

next chapter>

You sat in front of the LED mirror, mindlessly blending out your concealer while staring at your reflection. Your mind wasn't on your makeup, though. It was miles away, or rather, just a short distance across the island, practically right next door, where the Casa Amor villa sat, housing the guys—and specifically, Rafe.

Confessional : You “This feels like a social experiment, at this point.” You groaned. “I want to have faith in the guys. You try to tell yourself that out of sight shouldn't mean out of mind, but when you're trapped in a villa with five new, gorgeous bombshells who are literally hand-picked to turn your head, your brain starts playing tricks on you.” You sigh, looking up, shoulders slumped. “I miss Rafe. I really do. But there's this terrifying little voice in the back of my head reminding me of how volatile things can get. Thinking about him and Sofia kept me up all night, and...I don't know," You shrugged hopelessly. "I’m just trying to keep my guard up but be open at the same time, but it’s hard. It’s so hard.”

Beside you, Kiara was brushing through her curls, her jaw set in a tense line, Sarah was staring blankly at her selection of dresses, while Cleo carefully lined her lips, humming a tune that didn't quite hide the anxious tapping of her foot while Rima was sitting on the edge of the cushioned seat by the window, applying a layer of lotion to her legs.

The silence was shattered when the sharp chime of a phone rang out.

Cleo shrieked, dropping her lip liner and scrambling to grab the neon-cased phone resting on the vanity as you all instantly swarmed around her, breaths held as Cleo unlocked the screen and read the message aloud.

Guys, there is no need to stress about making breakfast today because we are kicking off the morning with a literal bang. It’s time to get up close and personal in today’s speed-dating event: The Morning Squeeze! #JuiceDaily #FreshSqueeze"

"Oh, damn," Kiara breathed, letting out a nervous, breathless laugh. "Casa really does move fast."

"I’m literally shaking," Sarah admitted, holding out a hand to show a slight tremor. "Like, my stomach just dropped. This whole thing has me so on edge, every time a phone goes off I swear my heart skips like three beats thinking it's something about the guys." She sighs, relaxing. "A speed-dating brunch?"

"At least we don't have to cook," Rima offered, trying to find a silver lining. "But speed dating means we have to talk to everyone. No hiding behind our usual couples."

You sucked in a sharp breath, smoothing down the front of your body. "Well, if they want a fresh squeeze, they’re going to get one.” you laughed, trying to even out the mood. "I think we should just enjoy ourselves and have fun with these new guys." You shrug lazily. "It doesn't have to mean anything and it's not like we're immediately jumping ship." You speak, trying to convince yourself more than anyone else.

"She's right," Rima chimed in. "We have five sexy ass men here who are practically ready to beg us just to stay. We shouldn't be worried about the guys. If they fuck up, it's their loss. But I came here for me. And I'm gonna make sure to do what's best for me."

OUTFITS were adjusted, hair was given one final spritz, and shoes were slipped on. Down in the yard, a long, beautifully decorated wooden table had been set up right in the middle of the villa, overflowing with carafes of fresh orange juice, platters of pastries, stacks of pancakes, and bowls of bright berries.

As you and the girls began your descent down the staircase, the guys were already standing in a line, looking incredibly handsome, dressed in sharp linen shirts and casual shorts, their eyes locked on the staircase.

The moment your heels clicked against the steps, the boys erupted into enthusiastic clapping and cheering.

Theodore smirked, his eyes locking directly onto yours with a soft warmth that made your stomach do a small, confusing flip. He stepped forward slightly, offering a polite nod. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," you said, offering him a genuine smile. Despite the cloud of Rafe hanging over your head, Theo had been nothing but a perfect gentleman since entering the villa, treating you with a level of care that you were grateful for.

Another sharp ping echoed through the courtyard, and Thomas checked his phone, clearing his throat to read the text.

"Islanders, welcome to The Morning Squeeze. For now, you will each sit directly across from your current partner. Every two minutes, you will receive a text prompting the boys to move down one seat to their left, until everyone has spoken to everyone. There is no prize for this activity. This is purely your chance to really get to know each other. Bon Appétit!"

"Alright,” Justin clapped his hands, a bright grin on his face. “Let's get to it then," he said, heading over as you all followed, excited, pulling out a chair for Cleo.

You walked over to the long table, taking a seat directly across from Theodore, who’d pulled your chair out and was waiting for you. He reached over, pouring a small splash of champagne into your orange juice.

"A little liquid courage." Theo teased, his gaze steady and comforting.

"Honestly, I think I need it," you laughed, wrapping your fingers around the cool glass. "Two minutes per guy feels crazy. I think I might get whiplash."

"Don't worry," Theo said, leaning forward, his voice dropping. "You're starting with me, so you can just relax."

"Relax?" You countered, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you glanced around yourself. "With you looking at me and a timer ticking down? Easy for you to say."

Theo rested his chin in his hand, his dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "I like to think I'm a more...calming presence." He shrugs casually. "Plus, you get to look at me for the first two minutes. I'd say you lucked out."

A wave of heat rushes to your cheeks as you look down at your glass, swirling the orange juice and champagne together. "Oh, really?" You tease. "Pretty confident first thing in the morning, aren't we?"

"Always," he chuckled, the sound low. "But besides that, how did you sleep? Well, apart from the villa's resident cricket choir trying to serenade us all night."

"Do not remind me," you said, glad for the shift in topic, though your face still felt warm. "Imagine how I felt out on the daybeds."

Theo leaned closer across the table, his smirk softening. "I really wish you would've accepted my gesture, last night. Or, you know... at least let me keep you company."

Your eyes widened slightly, and you took a quick, flustered sip of your drink to hide your smile. "Please." You cough, laughing, choking on your sip

"What?" He laughed, enjoying himself. "I'm just being polite."

"Is that what you call it?" you murmured, trying to regain your composure. "Because I think most people call that flirting."

"Well? Is it working?" His gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before locking back onto your eyes. "Because I have to admit, you're making it very hard for me to focus on anything else. So, I guess most people would call you a distraction."

You bit your lower lip, fighting the smile threatening to break across your face. "You don't look too bad yourself."

"Just 'not too bad'?" Theo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. "Ouch."

You giggled, charmed by his random playful energy, a contrast to his usual persona. "Okay, fine. You look...handsome."

A satisfied smile spread across his face. "Così va meglio," he says lowly.

Then the two minutes were up.

"And that's my cue to move," Theo said with a dramatic, disappointed sigh as the text-tone sounded, pushing his chair back. He gave your hand a quick, reassuring squeeze before standing up and moving down a seat to Sarah.

Taking his place across from you was Brandon. He slid into the chair with confidence, grabbing a croissant and taking a bite. Brandon was chill, there was no denying that. He had this rough-around-the-edges charm that made it really easy to talk to him.

"What's up?" Brandon grinned, wiping a crumb from his lip. "You survivin’ us so far?"

"Barely," you chuckled, leaning your elbows on the table. "Though, you look pretty relaxed for a guy who has to impress five girls in ten minutes."

"Hey, what you see is what you get," he said, shrugging his shoulders. As he reached for a strawberry, the sleeve of his linen shirt rolled back, revealing a dense sleeve of tattoos. Your eyes caught on a few that looked noticeably different from the intricate, professional ink covering the rest of his arm.

They looked slightly faded, a bit rougher.

“I have to ask," you said, pointing toward his forearm. "Those tattoos right there... they look like different?"

Brandon burst out laughing, soft, kind of raspy and nervous. “Yeah, those are what I like to call my… less-than-sober decisions.” He admits. “Late nights, a cheap tattoo gun off Amazon, and one too many drinks." He turned his arm, showing a tiny, slightly crooked letter 'J' stamped near his wrist.

"A 'J'?" you questioned, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Brandon’s smile softened, losing a bit of its playful edge as a look of nostalgia crossed his features. "Yeah. Jessica.” His voice softened. “Jess. She was my high school girlfriend. We went through a lot together, but... stuff went down pretty brutally between us. High school for me wasn't exactly the standard experience."

You leaned in a bit closer. "What’s that mean?"

Brandon let out a breath, staring down at the little 'J' on his skin. "My high school was a fuckin’ warzone.” He groans. “We lost a lot of people, taking their own lives left and right, or trying to—people I literally sat next to in class, people I considered friends.” He clears his throat. “It was like this dark cloud just hung over our entire town for a while, especially after this one girl. Everyone was having these crazy meltdowns because of the grief or the pressure, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “My adoptive brother, Clay, he had it the worst. He completely fell apart for a while, and watching him go through that while trying to keep my own head above water... it was really, really hard."

Your heart twisted for him. You hadn't expected such a heavy confession. "I'm so sorry. That sounds like an incredibly heavy thing for a kid to carry."

"It was," He said, looking back up at you. "But, I think it made me who I am today, forced me to grow up, to value the people around me, and to become someone better than I was before. I’m grateful for all of those people who helped me."

"That's beautiful, truly," you said softly.

PING.

"Aaaand time flies when you're getting deep," Brandon joked, the heavy mood breaking as he stood up. "Well, it's always good talking to you."

Next was Justin, who was undeniably calm, though you couldn't help but find him a little bit awkward and, frankly, a tiny bit boring. He stumbled over his words a few times, trying to pay you compliments that felt slightly rehearsed. However, the date took a turn for the better when you accidentally noticed a hip-hop song humming from a nearby speaker that’d been working to fill the occasional silence, prompting a conversation about music. You ended up bonding quite a bit over music genres. It wasn't romantic, but it was comfortable.

Then…

PING.

Justin moved down, giving you a small smile as Thomas slid into the seat. He was cute, moles speckling his pale face, but he was a total ball of clumsiness. Within the first thirty seconds, he accidentally knocked his fork onto the ground, turned bright red, and apologized at least four times.

"Hey, hey, it's totally fine," you laughed, trying to put him at ease. "It's just a fork, Thomas. I promise I don't bite."

"Sorry," he chuckled nervously. "I just... I get a little intimidated by girls, and you're, like, really pretty."

You flattered a smile, shaking your head. "Well, thank you.” You smiled politely, opting to skip the small talk. “What are you actually into? Movies, shows, books…?"

That question seemed to unlock something in him and he completely opened up, his nervousness melting away as he began passionately talking about his absolute love for Star Wars and dystopian movies. He started breaking down the lore of Dune and explaining why he thought sci-fi was the pinnacle of cinema. It was nerdy, endearing, and adorably innocent, and you found yourself genuinely smiling throughout the entire two minutes.

Then the buzzer sounded for the next rotation, and the smile instantly vanished from your face as Thomas stood up, and the final guy took his seat across from you.

The air between you went cold as Mattheo adjusted his collar, leaning forward on the table with an expression that was trying far too hard to look casual, but you could see the underlying desperation in his eyes. 

"You look... incredible today. That color really suits you." He started, his voice dropping into that familiar, low tone he always used when he wanted something from you.

“I know,” You sighed, pulling your mimosa toward you, taking a slow sip.

Mattheo cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Look, I know you're mad. I know having me pop up in the villa was probably the last thing you wanted. But I've been trying to get a moment to talk to you since I got here, and it’s been killing me seeing you look at me like…I’m a stranger."

You stared past him, watching a butterfly flutter near the bushes. You let out a dry hum, completely refusing to give him a single real word, letting him talk to himself.

"Y/N, please," Mattheo pleaded, his hands spreading flat on the table. "I just want to apologize. For everything. For how things ended, for the way I handled stuff. I was stupid, and I made a lot of mistakes, and I'm truly sorry."

You slowly brought your gaze back to him, your eyes cutting through him. A sharp, sarcastic smile pulled at the corners of your lips.

"Took you long enough," you said, voice clipped. "Thanks, Mattheo. But that window has passed.” You gave him a pout that held no real pity. “I don't want, nor do I need, an apology from you anymore. You can keep it."

Mattheo’s jaw clenched, a flash of frustration rippling across his face. He hated not being able to control a conversation, and he especially hated when you wouldn't bend to his charm. He took a sharp breath, trying to force his temper down.

"Fine," Mattheo said, abruptly switching the topic, leaning back and crossing his arms to mimic your posture. "If you don't want to talk about us, let's talk about what you're doing now. How’s it going with Rafe?” He switched.

"It’s going good. Great, even." you said simply, your tone clipped and final.

"Great?" Mattheo scoffed, a patronizing smirk on his lips. "C’mon. Do you actually, really like him? Because from the outside, from someone who knows you, it looks like you’re just forcing it. It looks like you’re trying to convince yourself more than anyone else—."

You slammed your champagne flute down onto the wooden table, the sharp clink making the others glance over nervously from a few seats down. You leaned forward, your eyes narrowing.

"What are you getting at, Mattheo?" you asked, your voice a lethal whisper. "Seriously. What is your actual point here?"

Mattheo cracked, the words blurting out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I miss you, okay? I fucking miss you. My life hasn't been the same since you walked out. Every day I think about you and what we had, and I’m so fucking sorry for what I did to you. I just… I want a chance to fix it."

You let out a harsh, humorless laugh, shaking your head in absolute disbelief. "Are you serious? If you were honestly sorry, you wouldn't have come here.” You deadpanned. “You wouldn't have signed up for a reality show, followed me across the world, and crashed a place where I was finally starting to feel happy and safe without you.” You seethed. “ If you cared about me at all, you would have left me alone."

Mattheo opened his mouth to interrupt, his face turning red, but the last text-tone rang out, and you huffed, smoothing down your outfit, leaning forward looking at him with nothing but disdain.

"So, do me a favor," you said, your voice stern. "Every time you think about how much you miss me? Wallow in it. Swallow it down, hell, choke on it, and let it sit in your chest and burn.” You told him spitefully. “Because your two minutes are up. And I’m done talking."

You turned your head away from him as the guys started to move for the last time. Theodore had returned, immediately looking up, noticing the notch between your eyebrows and the slight rise and fall of your chest.

"Hey," Theo said softly, his brow furrowing with genuine concern. "Everything alright over here?

You let out a long breath, the weight of Mattheo slowly rising from the seat as you looked into Theo's kind eyes. "I'm okay."

Theo didn't press, just smiled, sliding a fresh plate of warm waffles toward you as he took his seat and Mattheo walked away. 

You felt your shoulders relax, and for the remainder of the brunch date, you and Theo engaged in a easy and genuinely interesting conversation.

He listened to you speak about your passions, laughed at your jokes, and made you feel heard. 

And it kind of scared you.

Confessional : Mattheo “It’s just frustrating, you know?” He huffed, adjusting his collar away from his neck. “I came here with genuine intentions to fix things with her. I admitted my mistakes, I laid my cards on the table, and she just completely shuts me down, throws it back in my face, and flirts with Theo right in front of me.” He scoffs. “It’s humiliating. But I’m not just going to sit back and let some other guy take what’s supposed to be mine.

AFTER the brunch, the table was cleared, and you and the girls gathered inside the kitchen. 

Cleo had taken charge of a cutting board, slicing up chunks of fruit for everyone, while the rest of you leaned against the counters or sat around, eager to unpack everything that had just went down during the dates.

"Alright, spill," Sarah said, stealing and tossing a piece of pineapple into her mouth and pointing her finger at Kiara. "How were your dates?"

Kiara sighed, leaning her back against the refrigerator, a conflicted look on her face. "Honestly speaking, I felt like my best conversation was definitely with Thomas. He is just so cute, you guys.” She fawned, whining. “He’s a little nerdy, a little clumsy, but he’s so sweet." She paused, biting her lip. "I really do think I have a little bit of a crush on him. But... I don't know if it's actually worth risking my connection with JJ. Like, JJ and I have a vibe, I think anyway, but Thomas just feels... more into me?"

"What about Mattheo?" Sarah asked, leaning against the island. "You're technically coupled up with him, right now."

Kiara let out a dramatic groan. "Ugh, please don't remind me.” She rolls her eyes. “I don't even speak to him. He has made it blindingly clear why he’s really here, anyway, so I honestly could not care less about what he does." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she shifted her weight. "But I’ll tell you one thing—I am about to make his ass sleep somewhere else tonight. I am taking that indoor bed. I literally counted eight mosquito bites on my arms and legs when I woke up this morning!"

"Oh my god, same!" Sarah chimed in, holding up her arm. "The daybeds are a friggin’ nightmare."

"Me three," you added, shuddering. "The mosquitoes were having a full-on buffet last night. I don’t remember it being that bad with Rafe..."

"Exactly," Kiara said, nodding. "So Mattheo can enjoy the elements tonight. But, yeah, back to Thomas... I don’t know, he just gives me this comforting piece of home, you know? He’s from Cali, and he was actually asking me all these questions about my environmental stuff back home. He seemed actually invested in that side of my life. No other guy has ever really shown an interest in that before.” She smiled to herself. “It made me feel really good."

Confessional : Kiara “Thomas is just a breath of fresh air, honestly. JJ is all charm and flirty, which is exciting, but it’s also terrifying because you never know if he’s going to burn you.” She slumps. “Thomas looks at me like he actually wants to know my soul or something. It’s giving me a lot to think about, especially since JJ is over at Casa Amor right now surrounded by beautiful women, and more importantly, his ex…”

Rima reached over, grabbing a slice of melon from Cleo’s board. "Well, I thought Brandon was absolutely adorable.” She shrugs, fruit pressed against the inside of her cheek. “You can definitely tell he’s a little troubled, but he still makes the best of it. He’s got great energy." She paused, her expression turning skeptical. "But I’m just not sure he’s entirely my speed. And plus... he’s from all the way up north in New York. I live all the way in Atlanta. Like, I have absolutely no idea how we would ever make that work outside of this place. Long distance is not for me."

Cleo stopped slicing, wiping her hands on a towel and looking at Rima with a knowing smirk. "Look, as Brandon’s ex, let me tell you right now—I am positive that boy would be willing to move if he liked a girl enough." She let out a sassy little chuckle. "Clearly, he has absolutely no problem leaving things behind when it suits him."

The girls all let out an ooh sound, laughing at Cleo's petty shade.

"I don't know, Cleo," Rima countered, shaking her head. "Every single time we chat, he keeps talking about wanting to settle down soon and how much he’s absolutely loving New York right now. I just don't see him packing up for Georgia." Rima played with the straw in her drink, her voice dropping. "And honestly... I still have that lingering interest in Pope. But at this point, I don't even know if it's worth it. He’s still totally hung up on you, and who actually knows what he’s doing over at Casa right now?"

Sarah leaned her head back against the cabinets, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I am one hundred percent not romantically into anyone. Thomas is my ex, there is absolutely zero spark left there, and it’s glaringly obvious he’s super into Kie anyway. I’m happy for them. But for me? I don't feel drawn to any of these Casa guys. None of them are doing it for me."

"Really? Not even a little bit?" you asked her.

"No," Sarah said firmly. "My head is completely with John B. I'm just,” She shrugs, pouting. “Playing the waiting game."

Cleo clapped her hands together, a bright grin lighting up her face. "Well, I am the complete opposite.” She throws out, making you all laugh from the mood switch. “I am so into Justin, you guys!" She practically gushed, leaning over the counter with a dreamlike expression. "Yeah, he’s a little bit awkward, but he’s so tall, and he makes me feel like really feminine, like a girly girl. Like, yesterday, he literally did push-ups with me sitting on his back, just to show off!” She squeals. “And today during our date, he randomly looked at my lips and complimented the way my lipgloss made them look. I was like, okay, yes please!"

You all laughed, Rima nudging Cleo's shoulders.

"Wait, wait," Kiara intervened, raising an eyebrow. "Does that mean Miles is completely off the table? Like, dead and buried?"

Cleo’s expression hardened, her bubbly demeanor fading. "Honestly? Probably, yeah. I don't like manipulators, and after everything that went down before Casa, I do not deem Miles trustworthy, at all. He can stay over at Casa Amor until the end of time for all I care."

Y’all whooped and whistled, celebrating Cleo's decision. Then, all eyes slowly turned to you.

"What about you?” Rima said, leaning forward. “You and Theo looked cozy over there.” She teased. “He was looking at you like you were the only girl in the room."

You let out a soft sigh, playing with the edge of your dress. "I mean, we get on pretty well. He’s really sweet, and our conversations are amazing. But... you guys already know what I'm going to say."

"That you're loyal to Rafe," Sarah completed the sentence for you, offering an understanding smile.

"Yeah," you admitted, looking down. "I am."

"We totally understand your decision, babe," Cleo said gently, placing a hand over yours. "But we also have to note the way Theo is around you.” She smirked.

Kiara nodded in agreement, speaking directly to you for the first time in days. "As his ex, let me tell you—he was never that gentle or attentive with me when we were together.” She tells you. “Like, yeah, he had his good moments, obviously, but he was never like that. He looks at you like you're made of glass."

Confessional : Kiara “I don’t have a problem with Theo pursuing her.” She shrugs. “He pulled me aside and we talked things out, so there's no real hard feelings, but there’s nothing there to explore or rekindle. I think he might actually be a changed man from when I knew him, so I can’t be mad at it.”

A heavy silence fell over the kitchen as your mind raced. You appreciated Theo, you truly did, but the shadow of Rafe was ever present.

"Let's be real for a second," Sarah said, breaking the silence. "What do we honestly think is happening over at Casa Amor right now? No filter, no sugar coating—where is everyone's head at? Like, what are the boys doing?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I want to be hopeful. I really do. Right before the guys left for Casa, Rafe and I had this really great, deep conversation about everything.” You tell them. “He finally opened up to me, and we cleared the air. We were in a really, really good place. So I'm just trying to hold onto that." You admit. "But knowing he's over with Sofia and everything he said about her and their relationship...I don't know. I just wish I knew why she was here."

"I’m just not sure," Kiara admitted, her face falling. "I want to have faith in JJ, I really do. But his track record is terrifying. And I’m sorry, but that spreadsheet shit is still so crazy to me. Like, I don’t want to end up being a name on your list, bro." She scoffs, disgusted. "And we never really talked about his exes in too much detail, he had so many. I know Delaney was the most "serious" he's ever taken a girl, though. At least from what he said..."

"I have trust in John B," Sarah stated, though her voice lacked complete confidence. "I'm just really hoping that this entire thing with his ex being there is just as platonic as he swore it was. Like, he said he values all of the connections he's made in his life and that's why he finds it hard to just cut people off but, fuck, I don't want you being friends with your ex, dude."

"Like I said, I don't care," Cleo shrugged, tossing another piece of fruit into her bowl. "Miles can stay there forever."

"I don't think Pope would be doing too much," Rima added thoughtfully. "I mean, I expect him to enjoy himself, at least. Like, talk to the girls, have a laugh. But I don't think he'd do anything crazy. He just doesn't seem like the type.” She shrugged with one shoulder. “And honestly, if not for the fact that we’re currently in a couple, I think he’d stay well-behaved just because he wants to prove himself to Cleo."

"Hm. We'll see," Cleo muttered skeptically, rolling her eyes, chewing a slice of mango.

LATER that afternoon, the sun started setting slowly, washing the sky in warm shades of orange and pink. All of you were lounging around the pool when the familiar text alert blared out from multiple phones.

Sarah grabbed hers first, reading it out loud to the group. 

"Islanders, it’s time to break the ice and get a little closer. Head over to the fire pit for a classic game of Never Have I Ever: Explicit Edition! #TouchAndTell #SpicySecrets"

A roar of excitement and nervous giggles erupted from the group as everyone gathered around the circular fire pit, the boys mixing in with the girls.

There was a large tray of shot glasses filled with a sweet, alcoholic punch in the center—some kind of wine.

The rules were simple—someone would read a prompt, and if you had done it, you had to drink, and then complete a dare or call someone out in the circle based on a positive category—like who has the sexiest abs, the cutest butt, or who you'd most want to kiss.

The game started off relatively tame, but quickly dialed up as it went on. It didn't cause any drama, but it did act as a catalyst to bring several people much closer together.

"Never have I ever…done it in a public place," Brandon read with a wicked grin.

Instantly, Cleo, Justin, Kiara, and Thomas took a drink. Cleo laughed, hiding her face in Justin's shoulder. Since Justin had taken his drink, Cleo boldly reached over and ran her manicured hands down his chest, calling him out for having the 'absolute best shape in the villa,' which made Justin grin furiously and pull her into a tight, sideways hug.

Next, Thomas had to call out a girl with the 'cutest smile,' and he turned directly to Kiara, eyes shining. Kiara beamed, taking a sip of her own drink, and the two shared a lingering look that made Sarah nudge Kiara’s rib playfully to pull her back into the game.

Rima and Brandon were getting incredibly handsy as well. After a prompt about tattoos, Brandon ended up pulling Rima close, and she boldly admitted in front of everyone that Brandon easily had the 'sexiest abs she had seen in a long time', running her fingers lightly under the hem of his shirt to prove her point.

Then, it was Theodore's turn to read a prompt. He picked up the card, his eyes scanning the words before a slow smile spread across his face. He looked up, his gaze landing on you.

"Never have I ever met someone who completely knocked me off my feet from the moment I saw them," Theo read, his voice smooth.

Theo didn't even hesitate. He picked up his shot glass, drank it down, and then turned fully toward you as the entire circle went quiet, waiting.

"I have to give it to you." Theo said, his eyes locking onto yours. "Not only do you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, but you’re easily the most captivating, intelligent, and sexiest woman I’ve ever met. And honestly, every day I spend getting to know you just makes me realize how lucky any guy would be to have you."

"Awww!" the entire fire pit erupted, the girls and guys clapping loudly at the sweetness of his confession.

You felt your cheeks burning, a flattered smile breaking across your face.

But across the circle, the mood was completely ruined. 

Mattheo was sitting with his arms tightly crossed, his jaw locked so hard you could see the muscles twitching as he glared at Theo.

Confessional : Mattheo “I am literally so fucking sick of Theo and his little poetry slams.” He narrowed his eyes. “'Captivating'? 'Intelligent'? Give me a break, man...”

BY the time the game wrapped up, evening had fully set in, and the villa broke off into smaller groups. 

Up in Soul Ties, Rima and Brandon were curled up, fairy lights illuminating them as Rima slowly and carefully traced the intricate lines of his tattoos and veins, her voice a soft murmur as she listened to him talk about his life back in New York.

Over in the Speakeasy, Cleo and Justin had isolated themselves, their loud laughs echoing out across the villa, Cleo’s high-pitched giggles mixing with Justin's deeper chuckles, completely wrapped up in each other.

In the light blue waters of the swimming pool, Kiara and Thomas were splashing each other, their playful screams filling the night air when suddenly, Sarah ran out from wherever, yelling loudly before jumping into the pool, nearly drowning the both of them as they all burst into hysterical laughter.

Mattheo was over in the outdoor gym area. The clanking of weights echoed through the yard as he aggressively worked through his anger, bench-pressing far more than his usual weight just to burn off the sight of you simply smiling at Theo.

Meanwhile, you and Theodore had escaped to Say Less. You sat cross-legged on the cushions, a soft breeze rustling the curtains around you.

For the past hour, you and Theo had dived deep into getting to know each other. There was no game, no trivia cards—just conversation. You enjoyed his presence, but you always made sure to keep the boundaries clear. 

But you were starting to wonder if you were trying too hard. That maybe you having to try was the problem.

You talked about your lives even though you steered from the family topic, talked about your careers, and what a typical weekday looked like for you outside of this. Theo listened, sharing stories about his own job, his favorite childhood memories, and his favorite spots to travel.

"You're really something else, you know that?" Theo said softly, his eyes tracking the way the light caught the side of your face.

"What do you mean?" you asked, leaning your head against your hand.

"I mean, you're just so grounded," Theo murmured, moving a fraction of an inch closer to you on the cushions. "In a place like this, where everyone is putting on a show or playing a version of themselves they really aren't, you’re just...you're real."

He leaned in closer, his gaze dropping to your lips as the air between you two grew heavy, charged.

Theo whispered your name, his voice thick. "...Would you mind if I kissed you?” He breathed. “Even if it’s just a small one. I’ve been thinking about it all day."

Your heart thumped inside your chest. But the answer immediately popped to the front of your mind, so clearly, you could almost see it—No.

Theo was gorgeous, incredibly kind, and he treated you like royalty.

But the image of Rafe—the beautiful mess of a man waiting for you—flashed in your mind. You couldn't do it. You couldn't cross that line. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

You placed a gentle hand against Theo's thigh, offering him a soft, apologetic smile as you politely turned him down.

"Theo... you are an incredible guy," you said honestly, your voice gentle. "Truly, you are, but... I just can't. My head is still so wrapped up in Rafe, and I need to respect that connection. I'm sorry."

Theo closed his eyes for a brief second, letting out a slow breath. When he opened them, there was no anger, no resentment. He nodded, covering your hand with his own.

"Hey, don't apologize," Theo said sincerely. "I understand, and honestly, I respect you for that. I knew the situation when I walked in here. I just really, really like you." He assures. "But I’m willing to wait and see where your head's at. Even if it's not with me,"

A wave of gratitude washed over you. "Thank you, Theo." You let your hand fall to his arm. "Seriously."

LATER that night, you and the girls gathered in the glam room, shedding your evening dresses and wiping off your makeup. You stood by the sink, washing your face, when Rima walked up next to you, applying her nighttime serum.

"What’s wrong, puddin’ pop?" Rima nudged your shoulder, laughing lightly at herself for the nickname. "You look like you're deep in thought. What happened in Say Less? I walked by and saw you and Theo looking pretty close…"

You grabbed a towel, drying your face before sighing, leaning in closer to whisper. "...Theo tried to kiss me."

Rima’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Are you serious?” You nodded, curling your lips. “Well? Did you do it?!"

"No," you answered immediately, shaking your head. "No, I didn't. I turned him down."

Rima let out a sigh of relief, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Oh, thank god!” She doubled over. “Look, you know I like Theo, he's great, but I have to admit, I love you and Rafe together.”

You cocked an eyebrow, a sly smirk on your face. “Really?” You asked, leaning against the counter. “What happened to wanting to 'break down his door'? And whatever you said about his eyes and arms?”

Rima rolls her eyes, setting her serum down. “Oh, please, I was just having fun. I still think he’s hot, but he made it overly clear that he was not into me.” She shrugs. “You guys just have this magnetic, undeniable thing."

You let out a soft, conflicted sigh, turning back and staring down at the marble sink. "I don't know, Rima. Theo is attractive, so good with his words. He’s everything a girl could ask for." You paused, your chest tightening. "But Rafe... Rafe is all of those things too, to me anyway, and so much more.” You drop your head, turning around to look at her again. “He’s got this hold on me, and even after everything, I just really want him back here with me. I just want this Casa Amor thing to be over bad, but at the same time, I wonder if I'm holding myself back. I mean, isn't the point to explore?"

Rima’s expression melted. She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, comforting hug. "I know, sweetie.” She mumbled as you embraced her back softly. “But you're doing the right thing by staying strong. I think you're just scared about what Rafe could be doing, but I don't think you should be." She pulled back, giving you a sweet, sisterly kiss on the cheek. "Get some sleep, okay?" And then she was leaving the bathroom, leaving you with your thoughts.

THE sleeping arrangements for the night remained the same.

You, Kiara, and Sarah grabbed your pillows and extra blankets, preparing to brave another humid, mosquito-infested night on the daybeds. 

You walked out, sighing at the sight of the daybeds.

Without Rafe’s presence, they felt like hell on earth.

As you were all setting up and getting comfortable, the glass doors slid open. Mattheo, Theo, and Thomas walked out onto the deck, all carrying their own pillows before they stopped in front of the three of you.

"Hey," Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "We were talking inside, and... we can't let you guys sleep out here, again.”

“It's crazy for you girls to take the daybeds two nights in a row, especially with all the bugs, when they really belong to you." Theo added, tilting his head.

Mattheo stepped forward, his eyes locking onto yours, his voice softer than it had been all day. "Yeah. Go inside and take the beds. We’ll sleep out here."

You and the girls exchanged equally shocked, touched looks. Despite all the tension with Mattheo, it was an undeniably sweet gesture.

"Wow," Kiara said, a genuine smile breaking across her face. "Are you guys serious? Thank you,"

Kiara smiled warmly, stepping forward to give Thomas a tight hug, Sarah following after with a small, polite one of her own. You walked up, offering an appreciative smile. "Thank you, guys. Seriously." You gave Theo a brief, polite nod, acknowledging the gesture without crossing any lines. 

Kiara even stepped up, giving Mattheo a small, quick hug of appreciation as Sarah patted him on the shoulder right after, which seemed to instantly soothe his bruised ego. You didn't acknowledge him.

You and the girls gathered your blankets and happily ran inside to the bedroom, finally settling in and getting a comfortable night of rest.

THE clinking of pans and the sound of bacon sizzling drifted from the outdoor kitchen.

Usually, the girls would sleep in late while the boys prepared their breakfast layouts, but today, things were a bit different. 

You and the girls had woken up way earlier than usual, tied up in knots of restless energy, you had all gotten dressed and gathered in a quiet cluster in the kitchen, looking on as the boys prepared the food.

This morning, the grace period of Casa Amor was officially over. 

The guys had spent the last fourty-eight hours getting to know you all. They had seen the entire broadcast of the show up until the moment they walked into the villa—they knew your histories, your arguments, your insecurities, exactly where everyone stood, and now, they knew your sides of it all.

And today, they were ready to play their cards.

Thomas was the first to make a move. He knew Kiara was feeling him, and him, her, but he also knew she was nearly paralyzed between her lingering loyalty to JJ and her simultaneous doubt in him. As he plated up scrambled eggs, he guided Kiara over to a high-top table near the edge of the kitchen deck.

She was picking at her food, her expression clouded as their conversation remained hushed.

"I just... I don't know," Kiara murmured, looking down. "JJ and I have a connection. But I'm just so terrified that the moment my back is turned, he’s going to revert back to his old ways."

Thomas leaned in closer across the table. He knew JJ’s playboy background from watching the show, and though he wasn’t being malicious, he was trying to turn the odds in his favor.

"Do you want my honest opinion, Kie?" Thomas asked softly, waiting for her to give a small, hesitant nod. "From a guy's perspective? Guys like JJ don't change very often. He thrives on attention, he thrives on the chase. You're an incredible, deep woman, and I just don't think a guy like that is capable of giving you the security you actually deserve.” He said honestly. “He’s in a villa filled with new girls right now. Tell me, do you honestly think he's sleeping alone?"

MEANWHILE, over at the island, Justin was sitting closely next to Cleo as they shared a loaded omelette. Cleo was already obsessed with him, but Justin was determined to seal the deal and completely erase Miles from her mind, or whatever may have been left, which was truly little to nothing.

"Honestly, Cleo," Justin said, flashing a confident grin as he leaned his elbow on the table. "I really feel like I'm the exact guy you’ve been waiting for this entire time in the villa. Like, the chemistry we have is just unmatched."

Cleo giggled, tossing her hair back, but a small flicker of hesitation crossed her eyes. "I mean, yeah, I won't deny that."

"So…what's holding you back?" Justin pressed, his eyes locking onto hers. "Is there anything stopping you from going all in with me?"

Cleo paused, choosing to be entirely honest. "It’s definitely not Miles. He’s completely irrelevant to me, I don't trust him at all.” She dismissed, chewing and covering her mouth. “But... Pope is still just kind of there in the back of my mind. I’m trying to get him out, I really am, but we had this big conversation right before he left for Casa where he told me his feelings were with me. But... I just don't know if he'll actually stand on it."

Justin let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. "Just think about it. If you can't even trust Pope to stay loyal, what's the point in waiting around for him?” He offered honestly. “Why waste your time stressing over a guy whose loyalty is questionable, when a guy you can completely trust, who is one hundred percent into you is sitting right in front of your face?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

Cleo paused, staring at him, a knowing smile slowly spreading across her lips as she caught onto him. She let out a loud laugh, shaking her head.

"Oh, I see what you’re doing," Cleo laughed, pointing a fork at him playfully. "You can't persuade me that easily, boy. I know the game." Justin just laughed along, entirely unbothered, knowing he still had a chance.

ON the other side of the deck, Brandon was going after Rima. She was sitting on the outdoor sofa when Brandon slid in right next to her, leaving zero space between their bodies, a plate of food outstretched to her. 

They began eating, discussing what a real relationship would look like between them.

"If we were to take this to another level," Brandon said, his voice serious as he looked at her. "Like, possibly outside of this villa... how do you see the distance thing working?"

Rima sighed, crossing her legs. "Brandon, I like you. But I have to be real.” She winced. “I didn't come onto Love Island to find a long-distance husband or a boyfriend who lives a thousand miles away. I live in Atlanta. My entire life, my career, my family is there."

Brandon didn't even blink. He leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "Look, I love New York. It’s my home, and I love it there.” He said honestly. “But at the end of the day, if you and I were to take things really far... one last move wouldn't hurt me.” His voice softened. “I’d consider it. I’m not afraid of a fresh start."

Rima’s eyes softened significantly. Brandon was saying absolutely everything she wanted to hear. And she wasn’t sure if that was the problem.

OUT in the yard, you had stepped away from the kitchen, grabbing a freshly blended smoothie and walking over to a bright yellow beanbag in the corner of the lawn to lounge in the shade. You just wanted a moment of total peace before the day's chaos began. 

Theo had made you breakfast and you both sat down to eat, chatting casually until he spilled his own smoothie on himself, excusing himself to go change.

That was when a shadow fell over you. 

You looked up to see Mattheo standing there, holding his own drink. Without asking for permission, he slid down onto the adjacent beanbag, joining you.

You immediately rolled your eyes dramatically, letting out a loud, irritated sigh and shifting your body away from him.

Mattheo started, trying to strike up a casual conversation, his tone pleading. "Can we please just talk for a second? Just a normal conversation."

"Why are you even here, Mattheo?" you asked, your voice clipped, cold. You kept your eyes locked on your smoothie straw, refusing to look at his face.

"I told you yesterday," Mattheo said, leaning forward eagerly. "I came here because I wanted to make amends with you. I wanted to show you I've changed—"

You let out a cynical laugh, snapping your head around to look at him.

You were done being dismissive, done letting him play the victim.

"If you wanted to make amends with me, Mattheo," you said, your voice cutting through the morning air like a razor blade, "You had months. You could have typed out a paragraph on your phone like a normal human being. God knows you loved to do it every time you fucked up.” You spat, eyes narrowing. “You did not need to follow me onto national television, where you clearly, obviously knew I was moving on, or trying to, with someone else."

Mattheo opened his mouth, his chest expanding as he tried to get a word out. "It’s not like that, I tried—"

"Just stop," you snapped. You leaned forward on your beanbag, your face twisted in anger. "You’re so full of shit.” You scoffed. “I saw you—stalking my Instagram, my friends pages. Do you think I’m stupid? I saw the fake accounts popping up in my story views within minutes of me posting. I saw the random follows from recently made accounts that were somehow magically tied to your contact. I knew it was you."

Mattheo’s face went completely pale, jaw dropping slightly as he realized he had been caught.

"And you know what I think?" you continued, your voice rising, steady and sharp. "I think you saw that I was finally doing better without you.” You hissed. “I know you tried to call me from private numbers—I blocked you. I know you came looking for me at the club—and I quit. I know you reached out to my friends—I told them all to block you.” You ranted. “But at the end of the day, none of it mattered, you knew exactly where I lived. You knew my address. You could have easily found a real, private way to apologize to me if you actually wanted to. But you didn't. You know why?"

Mattheo stood frozen.

"Because you weren't sorry then, and you’re not sorry now," you snarled. "You’re just furious that I don't need you anymore. You’re angry that I don't need you like you spent years telling me I did. So you came here, fishing for a pathetic redemption storyline to boost your own ego.” You criticized, looking him up and down. “And for what? Oh, wait, I know. It’s because you’re still fucking the same random girls back home, you’re still working the exact same shitty job, and you’re still hanging out with your same loser ass friends.” You deadpanned. “I left your pathetic ass years ago, and I will never let you spin another web of lies to pull me back."

You stood up swiftly, and glared down at him.

"So, this is the last time I'm gonna tell you," you whispered, "stay away from me."

Confessional : You “For years, Mattheo had this, like, psychological hold over me, making me feel like I was nothing without him. That was the most therapeutic shit I’ve ever done.”

You barely had time to calm your racing heart before a loud voice blared through the villa.

“GOT A TEXT!” Sarah yelled from the edge of the pool.

Everyone hurriedly gathered around as she pulled up the message. 

"Islanders, it’s time to find out which villa really has the ultimate competitive drive. Get ready for... The Raunchy Races Challenge, where you will be going head-to-head against Casa Amor! #VillaVsCasa #SpicySprints #MayTheBestVillaWin"

RAUNCHY Races was a staple of Love Island. The way it worked — both villas would receive the exact same text prompt simultaneously. The prompt would detail a specific task and from there, it was a race against the clock to see which villa could complete the task first. 

Whichever villa completed the task first would win the point. And whoever had the most points won.

The challenge kicked off as you all waited for the first text, nearly flinching when it came in.

"The girl with the longest hair must do five jumping jacks while pinned against a Casa boy!" you read off a text, and Cleo immediately threw herself onto Justin, completing the task in seconds.

Seconds later, a ping rang out.

“You’ve won the point, congratulations!” the phone buzzed. The girls cheered loudly, jumping up and down as the boys cheered.

But as the game progressed, the prompts turned more risky, and the texts coming back from Casa Amor began to feel like emotional landmines...

“The tallest guy must kiss the blondest girl!”

The guys all scrambled to measure height, eventually deciding Justin was the tallest as he swiftly went to stand in front of Sarah, kissing her respectfully for ten seconds.

However, as the phone in Kiara's hand buzzed, her smile instantly vanished as she read the update from Casa Amor. 

"JJ completed the kiss with Delaney. Casa Amor wins the point."

Kiara’s brows furrowed, a small look of hurt flashing across her face. "Pretty sure Delaney is his ex," she scoffed, her voice cracking. “Of course…”

Before anyone could comfort her, another text came through less than a minute later. 

“The girl with the darkest hair must kiss the youngest boy.”

You and the girls quickly motioned for Rima to stand with her jet-black bob as Justin, Mattheo, and Theo, all twenty-three, discussed quickly who was born the latest, eventually landing on Mattheo. But you’d guessed they took too long because a text came in right as they were going for the kiss, reluctantly so.

You opened your phone, reading it out,

"JJ completed the kiss with Haja. Casa Amor wins the point."

"Oh my god," Kiara breathed, shaking her head as she fought tears. "He’s going absolutely kiss-crazy, what the hell?"

"It's okay, babe," Sarah set a hand on her shoulder. "It's just a game, they're getting the same texts about us. Don't let it get to you."

Your heart broke for her, but the phone buzzed again before you could say anything.

“The girl with the highest high-school GPA must unzip the fly of the boy with the highest SAT score.”

And while you all discussed, talking over one another, another phone buzzed before you could even attempt to complete the dare—Rima flipping her phone open.

 "Pope and Kaitlyn completed this task. Casa Amor wins the point."

Rima shrugged, unbothered, But Cleo, who was standing nearby, looked visibly off-put and uncomfortable.

The text alerts kept coming like rapid fire, completely destroying the mood with how progressively more intimate they got. 

A text about dancing for thirty seconds 'without leaving room for Jesus', and "Miles completed this task with Sofia. Casa Amor wins the point."

Then came a text during yet another kiss dare, that you thought you’d completed fairly fast as Kiara and Thomas locked lips, that made Sarah tense. 

"John B completed this task with Delaney. Casa Amor wins the point."

Her face went pale. She shook her head, trying to force a brave smile. "It’s... it’s fine. It’s just part of the game.” But you could tell she didn’t believe herself this time. “It was probably just a quick little peck to get it over with." But you could see the tiny, nagging piece of anxiety taking root in her eyes.

She was desperately wishing she knew.

Finally, the last blow landed directly on you.

A text about a sensual lapdance between the shortest girl and the boy with the shortest hair, and then,

"Sofia completed this task with Rafe. Casa Amor wins the point."

Your stomach dropped, a sick feeling wrapping around your gut. 

Sofia. Of course Rafe’s ex-girlfriend had been the first to reach him, and she had just completed a fucking lap dance on him.

"Babe, don't worry about it," Cleo immediately intervened, grabbing your arm as she saw your expression twist. "It’s literally just the name of the game, like Sarah said."

"Yeah, seriously," Sarah added, trying to ignore her own anxiety to comfort you. "It’s nothing. We're all just playing the game."

By the time the final text sounded, the group at Casa Amor had accumulated the most points, officially winning the challenge.

"Casa Amor has won Raunchy Races. Sorry, Villa. It was fun while it lasted."

On top of the loss, the challenge had planted humungous seeds of doubt, anxiety, and heartbreak. Sure, it was just a game at the end of the day, but...how far did the boys go with what they were given?

Was it 'small pecks' and light touches like Sarah wanted to believe...or were they making a fool out of you all while you weren't around?

BY late afternoon, you all were trying to lift your spirits, lounging by the daybeds, attempting to focus on anything else.

But the universe wasn't done throwing wrenches at you.

Mid-conversation, the text alert sound chimed from Rima’s phone. But it wasn't the usual one. It sounded like a school bell or a fire alarm. 

Rima picked up the phone, confused as she read the screen. Her voice dropped to an breathless whisper.

"Bitch…” She breathed out, looking up at everyone with wide-eyes. “I don’t think I wanna open this.” She shook her head, holding the phone out away from her.

Sarah, the closest to her, leans over. “Why? What’s it say?”

Rima hands her the phone, allowing Sarah to read it to everyone. 

“Islanders, you have just received a story from Casa Amor."

"Oh my god," Sarah gasped, sitting up straighter. "Is this a video? The video?"

"Show us," Kiara said, her voice tense as everyone gathered closer.

All ten of you, the girls and guys, huddled tightly together on a single daybed, shoulder to shoulder, staring down at the glowing screen as Sarah hit the play button. 

The first segment exposed the absolute worst of the Raunchy Races and Rodeo challenge—a clip of JJ kissing Delaney, a beautiful blonde who Kie confirmed was his ex, and Haja, a stunning dark-skinned woman who happened to Miles’ ex.

And it wasn't a quick peck.

The clip clearly showed JJ going for the kill, wrapping his arms around both Delaney and Haja during their turns, tongue fully visible as he intensely made out with both girls, looking completely engulfed in the lust of the moment.

You'd think he was trying to become one with them—tongue swirling, fingers digging into the flesh of their hips and ass, grinding himself against them as their fingers tangled into his hair. And the other boys were just as happy to watch it happen.

Then it was JJ talking to the guys—"I don't remember kissing her being that good," he laughs. "Might have to go in for round two."

Kiara let out a choked gasp, a soft 'what?" escaping her lips, covering her mouth with her hand as tears built behind her waterline.

Then it was a short, quick clip of Pope—dressed as a shirtless cowboy while he lassoed a girl with dark hair, Kaitlyn, snagging her in for a kiss. Nothing major.

The next clip is worse, though—Kaitlyn on her knees, the zipper of pope's jeans clutched between her pearly whites, hands on his thighs as she lowered herself against his body, eyes glued to his with his hand on the back of her head.

Rima doesn't offer much, just scoffing as she watches them make-out and feel each other up.

Cleo, however, has this ever present dip between her eyebrows.

The video then cut to Miles., dancing incredibly close with a beautiful, dark-haired girl who you could only assume was Sofia, her backside completely grinding against his lap while he gripped her hips, feeding into the energy with a smug grin, pressing his groin firmly up into her ass. The video then cut to a solo confessional of Miles smiling at the camera— "Honestly? I don't miss the main villa at all right now. I am in no hurry to get back there. This is paradise!" He laughs, leaning back.

Cleo let out a loud, aggressive scoff. "As expected." 

Then it was a clip of John B and Delaney, and Sarah’s breath hitched in her throat. The video showed their kiss from the challenge, and it was significantly worse than Sarah had desperately hoped. It wasn't a quick game peck at all. Or even a sloppy one. Worse—it was an incredibly passionate, slow, lingering kiss that looked like two people completely lost in each other. John B’s hand was gently cradling Delaney’s face, his fingers tangled in her hair, while her hand was wrapped around the back of his neck. 

It even showed a clip of them from what you could only assume was the same Rodeo challenge you all had participated in, showing John B tying Delaney in rope from head to toe, then slanting his lips against hers.

“That’s fucking crazy,” Sarah hissed, voice watery.

The video then immediately cut to a private conversation between the same pair of culprits. John B was speaking about his relationship with Sarah when Delaney leaned in, flashing a smirk, making an offhand, deeply insulting comment—"You know, John B... even though Sarah and I might look a bit alike, I’m clearly the better option. Wouldn’t you agree?"

The clip continued, showing John B just sitting there on the couch, completely failing and not even attempting to defend Sarah, staring blankly. "We should talk about something else," he dismisses nervously.

"Like whether you're open or not?" Delaney shoots back, a sultry smile on her lips. "I need to know where your head's at." She hums. "Whether there's a chance you'll take me back or if I'm just wasting my time." He didn't shut Delaney down, he just sat there, bonding with her lookalike, letting the comment slide.

"I mean, I'm still open, if that's what you mean." And then, their clip ends there.

Sarah let out a shaky breath, face twisting in agony. She was furious at Delaney for saying something so disrespectful about someone she didn't even know, but she was devastated by John B's silence and his vagueness. Yet, despite the pain, Sarah’s mind desperately clutched onto a tiny, fragile piece of hope, trying to convince herself that maybe the conversation clip was edited, made to look worse, and maybe there was a part where he did defend her. Since Sarah hadn't made a single other connection with any Casa boy, she was completely stuck holding onto that desperate thread of hope.

Then, the video transitioned to Rafe and you swore your entire body locked up, heart hammering so violently it was physically painful.

The first clip showed Rafe’s initial coupling with Winnie, cutting to a scene of the two of them having a normal, quiet chat on the Casa daybeds. Winnie leaned in, trying to flirt, and brought up your name—“I’ve watched the show, we all have. I’ve seen how incredible you treat her, and honestly, I don't think she appreciates it enough. She doesn't see what she has in a man like you. But I do."

Rafe’s expression in the video hardened. He shot Winnie down with zero hesitation, his voice cold and final—"You don't know the half of our relationship, and you don't know her. So, I highly doubt that.”

You almost let yourself relax, but the video wasn't done.

The next clip showed the lap dance between Sofia and Rafe. Sofia was putting an insane amount of effort into the dance, grinding against him aggressively, seductively. But Rafe was sitting entirely still on the chair he was sitting in, looking uninterested, face visibly upset and uncomfortable. At the very end of it, Sofia suddenly turned and slung a leg over him, completely straddling his lap as his eyes went as wide as saucers, and forcefully slammed her lips against his. 

All of you gasped, watching it play out.

“What the hell?”

“That’s insane…”

The video showed Rafe immediately pulling back, his hands catching her shoulders as he almost pushed her off of his body the second her lips hit his, forcing her to get off him.

You let out a sigh of relief, thinking he had rejected her. But then, the last clip rolled.

The video cut to a private corner of the Casa Amor villa later that same day, considering they were wearing the same outfits. Rafe and Sofia were standing alone near the back wall, away from the group. Rafe’s face was tense, his arms gesturing aggressively as he expressed how he didn't appreciate her forcing that kiss on him during the challenge.

“You can’t just do that shit. What part of ‘over’ don’t you get?!”

But Sofia just smiled, stepping directly into his space, eyes flashing with something vicious, her lust-ridden voice loud and clear—"Come on, Rafe. Stop pretending. You know you miss what we used to have. You know you miss me."

The camera zoomed in tight on Rafe’s face, as he let out a heavy, conflicted breath, all of you holding your breath as he looked directly at her, and the audio clearly captured his exact words.

"I do miss you..."

And then Sofia boldly reached up, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and pulled his mouth down onto hers. The clip showed them locked in a heavy kiss before it abruptly cut to black, ending with a dramatic logo splash.

And the video was over.

The silence that fell over you was the heaviest thing you’d ever felt…well maybe aside from the ball of anger in the middle of your chest that you knew was about the size of the sun.

You stood frozen, yet trembling—teeth grinding, breathing heavy, hands curled into fists—your mind boggled.

To your eyes, the context was blindingly obvious. 

“I do miss you,” while looking right in her fucking face, followed by a full-blown kiss. To you, it looked like within the span of three days, no one day, Rafe and Sofia had kissed twice in one single day.

"Babe..." Rima started softly, reaching out a hand to touch your shoulder. "Hey, look at me. Maybe... maybe he meant he missed you. Like—"

"No," you whispered, your voice trembling violently as you stood up from the daybed, your entire body trembling. "No. He looked right at her. They kissed twice.” You declared, voice steadily rising. “Twice in one day, in one fucking night! There is no explanation for that!"

You felt so incredibly stupid. You had spent the last three days telling everyone how much you trusted him, how much you cleared the air, how much you missed him—and he was over at Casa Amor kissing his ex-girlfriend.

Beside you, Kiara was breaking down as well, from the confirmation of JJ’s absolute disregard for her feelings. She stood up, sobbing silently, and walked away from the group to be alone. Thomas, seeing her walk off, immediately followed after her.

You, on the other hand, were completely blind with rage, storming around the villa like a caged animal, wiping furiously at your tears, mumbling angrily to yourself as your brain short-circuited.

“Sleeping on the daybeds like a fucking idiot…I knew it…feel so stupid…so over this shit…”

Seeing that footage of Rafe had unlocked a deep, violent chest of trauma from your past relationship with Mattheo—that familiar, crushing feeling of being lied to, cheated on, and made to look like a complete idiot.

Between the devastating video of Rafe and Mattheo’s simple presence, you were one wrong word away from blowing the fuck up.

"Hey,” you heard your name being called. “Hey, wait up!"

You spun around, your eyes flashing fire, to see Mattheo trailing behind you across the grass. He had a look of concern on his face, stepping into your path.

"Get away from me, Mattheo," you warned, your voice dangerous, trembling.

"Please, just let me help," Mattheo pleaded, reaching a hand out toward your arm. "I know when you get like this. I know how emotional you get when you’re overwhelmed. Just—"

"What part of ‘fuck off' do you not understand?!" you shouted, voice echoing as everyone left outside turned at the sound, rushing over as you stepped directly into his space, face twisted in pure, unbridled fury that made him actively step back. "You want to comfort me?! I probably wouldn't even be this fucking emotional right now if it weren't for you! In case you forgot, you were the first person to fuck me over, so this is entirely your fucking fault as well!"

Mattheo stood completely frozen, his eyes wide with shock as you completely unloaded on him.

"So, fuck you," you hissed, voice shaking and tears streaming down your face as your breath hitched, tears streaming violently now. You turned your back on him, whipping around as you took swift steps away, adjusting your top as it slipped with your heavy steps, moving a loose strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your tears, sniffing before one final, angry thought came to mind…

"AND FUCK RAFE, TOO!"

And because the Main Villa and the Casa Amor villa were situated incredibly close to one another on the resort property, separated only by a thin grove of trees and a low stone wall, your hurt voice carried clearly across the distance.

Down at the Casa Amor villa, Rafe was sitting on the outdoor sofa, looking completely miserable, surrounded by the guys, the casa girls not too far away, when your unmistakable, usually melodic, voice floated clearly through the afternoon air, more hurt than he’d ever heard it.

"Oh, shit..." JJ muttered, all of the guys perking up.

Rafe bolted upright, face turning completely pale then flushing red as the other guys exchanged glances.

“Was that her?” Rafe asked, heart racing in his chest.

The guys just shrugged, not knowing your voice and the way you spoke as well as he did.

“We don’t know, man,” JJ threw out, scared himself. “...You tell us.”

And for some reason, without knowing anything, Rafe knew there was a shit storm waiting for him when he got back.

BACK at the main villa, you were sobbing silently now, wiping rivers of tears as they came, completely blind to the world as you made your way toward Say Less to be alone.

But within seconds, Theodore walked into the space after you.

He didn't try to touch you, he didn't try to lay on the charm—he just sat down on the cushions a respectful distance away, his eyes filled with pity.

You immediately collapsed against the pillows, burying your face in your hands, completely shutting down.

"I'm sorry," Theo said softly, his voice calm, comforting. "...I’m just here to listen, not sway you. If you want to scream, cry…if you want to call him every name in the book, I’m right here."

Relief washed over you. Because while you loved them to death, you were so incredibly tired of the girls trying to find excuses for what you had just seen.

You didn’t need reassurance anymore, or to hear how Rafe looked at you like you hung the stars in his sky, because it wouldn’t erase the truth.

You needed someone to just let you be angry.

And for the rest of the afternoon, as the sun set, you stayed in Say Less with Theodore, who let you do just that.

You confided in him, crying into his shoulder, pouring your heart out about how much Rafe’s actions had completely broken you. Theo listened to every single word, offering gentle nods, focused on making you feel safe.

At one point, as you finally stopped crying, he ducked down and gently, platonically kissed the top of your head.

THAT night, when the girls gathered in the quiet glam room to get ready for bed, the air was still somber.

You stood by the mirror, your expression completely blank, entirely checked out.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked softly, putting her hair up into a ponytail, eyeing you. Her own eyes were slightly puffy and rimmed red.

You just sighed, defeated. "I don't want to talk about it," you said, your voice entirely flat, hollow, and devoid of emotion. "I’m just…done."

You sounded how you felt—utterly defeated.

You’d spent two weeks with Rafe, getting to know him, breaking him down, opening up more than you ever had, all for him to kiss his ex twice in one night after three days of being away from you.

You’d given him too many chances.

Confessional : You "I'm just so tired of being the girl that guys get away with hurting," You admit sadly, eyes still puffy. "Like they tell me all this bullshit, smile in my face, just to show me their true colors when I've already...fallen in..."

And with the reveal of what the boys were doing in Casa, the sleeping arrangements were drastically different tonight—Cleo happily slept in the bed with Justin and Rima slept cuddled into Brandon’s side.

But Kiara, completely reversing her previous stance, chose to sleep with Thomas on the daybeds, since it wasn’t technically allowed to sleep in a bed that didn’t belong to your couple, deciding that if JJ could tongue down two girls at Casa, she had every right to sleep comfortably and explore her new connection.

Though, Sarah, still stubbornly clutching onto her fragile thread of hope for John B, took a blanket, heading out to sleep alone in Soul Ties.

You walked into the bedroom, exhausted, to find Theodore already lying in the bed. 

And for the first time in two nights, you slid under the sheets, though still keeping intentional distance between your bodies to maintain your own boundaries.

You were hurt, but that didn’t mean you were going completely tit for tat, using Theo to get some kind of get back. But you figured Rafe was probably right across the property, cuddled up with Sofia the same way he used to with you.

So, the least you could do for yourself was sleep in a fucking bed.

Theo looked over at you in the dark. He didn't try to slide closer, or try to cuddle, and he didn't push for any kind of intimacy. He respected your space.

The only move he made being reaching out, gently squeezing your hand for a brief, comforting second, whispering "Sleep well," his voice warm.

"Goodnight, Theo," you murmured, voice shaking. "And, thank you."

He let go of your hand, rolled over onto his side facing away from you, and let you drift off into a restless, heavy sleep, as images of Rafe and Sofia stuck to your eyelids.

next chapter>

You furrow your brow, your eyes adjusting to the room. Across from you, Sarah is rubbing her eyes, her blonde hair tangled around her face. Kiara is already sitting up, stretching her arms above her head with a yawn, while Cleo and Rima are still buried beneath their duvets.

"Rafe?" you mumble, your voice thick with sleep. You sit up, looking around the spacious room. Usually, Rafe is either pulling you back down into the pillows, complaining about how loud the birds are outside, or creepily watching you sleep.

Today though, his side of the bed is perfectly neat, the sheets smoothed over.

"John B isn't here either," Sarah says, her voice laced with confusion as she swings her legs over the edge of the mattress. "Maybe they went down to the kitchen early? He was talking about making pancakes last night."

"JJ’s gone too," Kiara adds, looking at the empty spot on the bed next to hers. She sighs, running a hand through her curls.

"Mm, let them be gone," Cleo grumbles from beneath her blanket, her muffled voice sounding completely unbothered. "More space for us. Sharing a bed with Miles is like dangling above the Grand Canyon. Jus' fightin' for my life every night..."

You nod, swallowing down a weird spike of anxiety in your chest. It makes sense, the boys frequently wake up early to hit the gym or raid the fridge, making you all breakfast.

Still, a strange quiet hangs over you, clouding your mind. It just feels different.

You throw on a casual oversized shirt and slide into your slippers, walking to the glam room to fix your face. For the next forty-five minutes, the routine is completely normal. You, Sarah, Kie, Cleo, and Rima take turns in the bathroom, doing your makeup, gossiping about the night before, and spraying an excessive amount of perfume. By the time you all walk down the stairs, dressed in your bikinis, you're fully expecting to hear the clatter of weights or dishes or JJ’s loud laugh.

Instead, the villa is completely dead.

"...Okay, now this is weird," Rima says, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. 

"Maybe they're by the pool?" Sarah suggests, walking out through the wide open glass doors onto the deck.

You all follow her out but even then, the outdoor daybeds are empty. The pool is undisturbed, reflecting the morning sky. The gym equipment is sitting exactly where it was left yesterday, completely untouched. 

"What the hell?" Cleo says, crossing her arms over her chest as she looks around. "Where the hell are they? Did they get kidnapped by production in the middle of the night?"

"I don't know, but it’s creeping me out," Sarah says, walking over to the kitchen island. There are no signs of breakfast. No coffee brewing.

Nothing. 

You lean against the edge of the sun lounger, your stomach doing a nervous flip. Your mind immediately goes to Rafe. He wouldn't just leave without letting you know before he got pulled away. "Do you think it’s a bombshell thing? Like when me and Cleo got pulled?" you ask, the words tasting sour on your tongue. "Like, maybe they got pulled out for a challenge or a date with someone new?"

Sarah scoffs, shaking her head as she walks over to join you. "A bombshell? For all five of them at once? No way." She reels back. "That’s crazy. Usually, they send one or two girls in to stir the pot, not pull the entire male population of the villa."

"Yeah, that doesn't make sense," Rima agrees, sitting down on the edge of a daybed. "If it was a bombshell date thing, they’d only take one or two guys, max. Maybe they’re just filming some promotional stuff outside the villa?"

"Without us?" Cleo raises an eyebrow. "Please. We're the main attraction." 

Just as you open your mouth to suggest other possibilities, the familiar high-pitched ping of a text message echoes across the deck and you all freeze.

Rima dives for her phone, which is sitting on a nearby table. Her eyes widen as she taps the screen.

"...Oh my god," She breathes, her jaw instantly dropping.

“What? What is it?”

But she remains silent, face slowly getting more contorted the longer her eyes stay on the screen.

"Read it, Rima! Don't just stare at it!" Kiara exclaims, crowding around her along with Sarah and Cleo. You step closer, slowly, your heart racing.

Rima clears her throat, voice riddled with disbelief as she reads the screen aloud.

Girls, it's time for a little change of scenery. The boys have been whisked away to Casa Amor, where five brand new bombshells are waiting to get to know them. But don't worry... you won't be lonely for long. #NewBoysNewToys #CasaAmor

"Casa Amor?!" Sarah shrieks, clutching her hair. "Right now?!"

You suck in a deep breath, your chest tightening as the rest of the girls jump around and cheer, excited.

You felt like you and Rafe had just finally gotten into a really good, steady rhythm. The thought of him in a completely different villa surrounded by five girls who are custom-built to turn heads makes your stomach churn.

"So, that means new boys are coming here?" Rima repeats, her eyes wide as she swiped her hair from her face, smiling brightly. "Like, today?!"

"That's what it says," Cleo says. "Well, damn. I guess Miles is going to have to see if his loyalty holds up. Because Lord knows I'm about to see what these new boys are about." She shrugs carelessly. " I hope they're hot."

"I can't believe this," Kiara mutters, her smile fading as a realization comes to the forefront of her mind. "...JJ is going to lose his mind. He’s like a...toddler with shiny objects. If a girl so much as breathes in his direction—"

Before Kiara can even finish her sentence, you hear a marching band of footsteps. The sound echoes loudly across the courtyard, cutting through the air, and you all whirl around toward the entrance to see the glimpse of toned legs, abs, and happy trails bounding into the villa.

"Oh my god, they’re here," Sarah whispers, her voice suddenly dropping an octave as she repeatedly smacks your arm.

You expect to see five completely new, incredibly muscular, glowing male bombshells swaggering through the doors in slow motion, grinning like tigers, ready to sweep you all off of your feet.

Instead, as the five guys come sauntering in, laughing and shouting, nearly all of your smiles drop.

One by one, the boys come into clear view under the sun.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

Next to you, Sarah’s face drains of all color. Kiara stops pacing entirely, her body locking up. Cleo’s eyes narrow to dangerous slits, and Rima lets out a sharp, choked noise that sounds like a gasp mixed with a curse.

It isn't a group of strangers.

It’s all of your exes.

Your jaw clenches so hard your teeth ache. A burning, hot wave of what you can only describe as unfiltered fury rushes from the tips of your toes straight up to your chest, all the way to the tips of your ears.

You stare at the boy walking at the back of the pack—dark hair, the same smug posture. 

Mattheo.

The silence that settles over the villa is suffocating, deadly as the boys stop their boisterous entrance, realizing they’re being stared at like ghosts or criminals.

The look on every one of your faces is a nothing short of either profound shock or total disgust.

“Hey, ladies,” one of the guys smirks. He’s decently tall, dark hair, and a face littered with moles. “...You all don’t look too happy to see us.” he jokes, and Sarah rolls her eyes.

“Seriously, Thomas?"

“Sorry,” the boy throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Forget how bossy you can get,” he winks, Sarah scoffing as he turns to the rest of you. “Well, there goes my introduction." He claps his hands, flashing a lopsided smile. "Hi ladies, I’m Thomas. But you can call me Tommy.”

Confessional : Thomas "Hey, I'm Thomas, I'm twenty-four, and I'm a professional track star from California.” He flexes his arm. “I'm over the dating apps. It feels like everyone is just looking for the next best thing, and nobody actually wants to sit down and build something real." He speaks honestly. "I'm not a fan of drama at all. I like things straightforward, chill, and honest. I guess my biggest red flag in a girl is someone who is totally wishy-washy, no offense, Sar—but yeah, someone who doesn't know what they want and expects you to wait around while they figure it out.” He admits. “I'm here to find a real connection, and someone who's sure about me." He smiles to himself.

Confessional : Sarah "I haven't seen his face in what feels like an eternity.” Her jaw drops, stuttering for words. “We were so on-and-off for years, and it was exhausting, but seeing him standing in front of me? My jaw? On the floor." She deadpans, scoffing. "We text here and there, just checking in, but in person? Wow. He is... way hotter than I remember.” She gushed. “When we were together, he had this super short buzzcut, but with the longer hair? Yeah, he looks good." She giggled, biting her lip.

You all wave, greeting Thomas as Sarah shooks him a cheeky look. Then another guy steps forward, looking somewhat shy, but also cocky at the same time as he introduces himself. “Hey,” he starts, his voice low and dark, carrying the remnants of an accent you can’t fully place. “I’m Theodore. But, please, call me Theo.” He greets, eyes shifting to Kiara who doesn’t wave at him. “Good to see you again, Kie.” He gives her an awkward, tight-lipped smile.

Kie huffs, tongue prodding the inside of her cheek as she crosses her arms. “Can’t say the same.”

Confessional : Theodore "I’m Theo. I'm twenty-three, from Italy, and I work as a mechanic." He says casually. "Uh, people usually tell me I have a bit of a dark, mysterious vibe, but...I’m just a guy who likes his space.” He shrugs. “I came here to have some fun, meet beautiful women, and see what happens. In the past, my main issue has been letting people get too close to me. I don't like feeling trapped. If things get too heavy, too fast, I tend to pull back. I feel like I just need someone who understands that you can't rush a man.” He admits. “I'm looking for a girl who can keep up with me without trying to tie me down right away. Or one that makes me want to be tied down..."

Kiara’s arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her eyes locked on Theodore as he glances her way with a lazy, knowing smirk. 

Confessional : Kiara "I have such...mixed feelings about Theodore being here.” She bites her lips, groaning. “We didn't end on the worst terms, but it definitely wasn't good. We had this whole 'friends with benefits' thing, but the problem was, I started really falling for him. And the second it started getting deep and I asked for something more... he ghosted me." She emphasized, curling her lip. "Literally left me on read, would not pick up a single call, and I haven't heard a single word from him since. It's so awkward seeing him. Part of me wants to hear him out and see if he actually has an explanation, but the other part of me just wants to give him the coldest shoulder possible.” She rolls her eyes, huffing. 

“...Well, while those two glare each other to death, I guess I’ll introduce myself,” another guy steps forward, eyes lingering on Cleo for a moment. He had an undeniably handsome face, these blue-ish green eyes, and arms completely covered in intricate, stunning tattoos. “I’m Brandon. Just Brandon.”

Confessional : Brandon "Hey, I'm Brandon. I'm twenty-five, originally from Sydney, Australia, but I'm currently living and working out of Brooklyn as a tattoo artist." He turns, giving a good view of one his sleeves, and the muscles beneath it. "I've spent the last few years traveling all over the world, which has been amazing, but it's made me realize something pretty sad,” He shrugged, pursing his lips. “I'm always the temporary guy in everyone’s life. I come into town, we have a great time, and then I move on because I just can't seem to stay planted." He shrugs, though a smile remains on his face. A pretty one, too. "I'm sick of being a pit stop. I'm here because I want to find someone who actually makes me want to settle down and stick around."

Cleo stares at Brandon, her expression unreadable but her eyes dangerously sharp. 

Confessional : Cleo "Okay, let me clear something up real quick. Earlier, I talked about an ex who played me and literally robbed me blind." She pinches her fingers, holding them up to punctuate her words. "Brandon is not that guy. Thank God. Brandon is actually my most recent ex. But... he did break my heart a little. We met in the Bahamas while I was working and I really thought we were building something serious, then out of nowhere, he just tells me he accepted a tattoo residency all the way across the country.” She deadpans, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, communication just died after that. He left. So seeing him here? It brings up a lot of stuff I thought I buried..."

“Alright, I can’t let everybody get ahead of me,” one of them cuts in. He has a flawless complexion, a perfectly sculpted physique, and a blinding smile. “What’s up, ladies? I’m Justin.”

Confessional : Justin "What’s up?” He waves gleefully. “I'm Justin, twenty-three, from LA, and I work as a fitness model." He smiles, winking. "Look, I know what people think when they look at me. I'm used to being treated like the trophy boyfriend. Girls love showing me off, but when it comes down to actually having a conversation or anything, they don't care what's going on in my head." He pouts, slumping in his seat. "I'm sick of being judged by my cover. I want someone who wants to read the actual book. I'm looking for a girl with deep emotional intelligence, someone who can match my energy and look past the surface. I want a real partnership."

Rima is the only girl who doesn't look completely miserable. She actually lets out a small laugh, shaking her head as Justin catches her eye and winks. 

Confessional : Rima "Justin!" She beams. "Honestly, out of all the exes you guys could have dragged into this villa, I'm relieved it's him." She shrugs, jutting her bottom lip out. "I genuinely believe Justin and I were a good match. The problem was just that we were both incredibly headstrong, and our schedules were insane with his modeling and my work. It just fizzled out because we didn't have time. But we're still really close. We actually talk pretty often, so having him here... it's a breath of fresh air compared to whatever horror show the other girls are dealing with."

“I guess I’m getting the short end of the stick, but you know what the say—save the best for last,” this guy smirks. He has a dark, boyish look with sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline, and a slight, confident tilt to his head that makes your blood boil. “I’m Mattheo.”

Confessional : Mattheo "How’s it goin’? I'm Mattheo, I'm twenty-three and I'm from Vegas." He throws his hands out, a grin on his face. "I came on this show for one person, and one person only.” He clarifies, dropping your name. “...I treated her terribly in the past, and I know it." He admits, having the audacity to look sorrowful. "I was young, stupid, and I made a lot of mistakes. But I'm a completely changed person now, and I'm here to prove that to her. I just want a second chance to show her that the guy who hurt her...isn't who I am anymore. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to win her back."

Your jaw is clenched so hard it looks like stone. Your eyes are shooting absolute daggers at Mattheo. 

Confessional : You "I am pissed." You seethed. "I do not speak to him for a reason. I don't want him here.” You shook your head, lips parted. “Why would I? This is the guy who used to constantly shame me. He put me through hell, cheated on me multiple times, and he made me feel like I was absolutely nothing." You ranted, hands moving wildly. "I spent a long, painful time building myself back up from the mental suffering and the emotional dents that he left on my soul. And you guys throw him in here like a new doll in a Barbie dreamhouse.” You emphasize every word, eyes narrowed. “Seeing him walk through those doors... it feels like it just sends me back a thousand steps. I hate that he's here. I really do."

You stand completely frozen, your mind racing a million miles a minute. Your eyes flicker away from Mattheo’s gaze, landing on the grass as a sickening realization hits you.

You turn towards the girls, eyes wide. "Wait, if they're here..." you think aloud, heart dropping into your stomach as you point to the five new boys. "That means the guys are also..." you trail off as the girls listen, also putting the pieces together as your shoulders finally slump in defeat. "That means—"

"SOFIA," Rafe breathes, brows furrowed.

Rafe is standing amongst the villa boys, body tense, eyes wide with shock and a boiling kind of intense anger.

He isn't smiling. At all.

He actually looks like he’s about to punch through a wall.

Standing right in front of him, smiling softly with a perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip, is Sofia, his infamous ex, with her long, dark cascading hair, soft, striking facial features, and stunning figure.

"Hi, Rafe." Sofia says softly, biting her lip softly.

Confessional : Sofia "Hi, I'm Sofia, I'm twenty-three, and I work as a bartender back in North Carolina." She wiggles her fingers, blushing. "And yes... I am Rafe's ex-girlfriend. The one that's been apparently causing so many problems." She rolls her eyes. "I came on Love Island for one specific reason—to get my man back.” She shrugs cutely, looking briefly at the ceiling. “I really, really miss what Rafe and I had. We had a history, we know everything about each other, and I know that deep down, he still cares about me." She declares. "I know he thinks he's building a new connection with...I forgot her name," She giggles, doubling over before composing herself. "But, I know him. He just needs a little...reminder of what we used to be."

On the other hand, Rafe is pacing, running a frustrated hand through his hair, his chest heaving. He looks completely livid.

Confessional : Rafe "Sofia?" He criticizes. "Out of every. single. girl on the planet, you bring her here?” He seethes. “Why? And what does she even want?" He emphasized, voice sharp. “I'm pissed. I know exactly why she's here. And it's for all the wrong reasons, and reasons I, quite frankly, don't give a fuck about." He throws his hands up, reeling back. "And I know she is going to try her absolute hardest to throw a fucking wrench into everything. And the worst part? I know how this shit works." He scoffs. "I didn't even want to come here. I was happy where I was. But I already know this gonna stir some shit up regardless and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it until I see her again," Rafe sighs, groaning and mumbling under his breath before staring blankly at the camera as a horrifying thought suddenly hits him. "Wait... hold on. If our exes are here... does that mean— Oh, fuck me.”

Standing on the Casa Amor deck are four other girls, the guys looking as the next girl steps forward. Piercing blue eyes, flowing blonde hair, and a flawless, tanned physique. “Hi." She smiles, swaying on her feet in a yellow gingham-patterned bikini. "I’m Delaney.”

Confessional : Delaney "Hey y'all, I'm Delaney," She squeals, kicking her feet. "I'm twenty-one, I'm a model living in South Carolina, and I'm so excited to finally be here! I'd definitely describe myself as a classic southern belle, but don't let the sweet accent fool you," She lowers her gaze, peering through her lashes. "I know exactly what I want.” She winks. “I came here to find true love, and hey, if it helps further my modeling career a little bit, I'm not going to complain!” She laughs. “But I need a man who is completely devoted to me. In the past, I've dealt with guys who just couldn't keep their eyes to themselves, *cough* JJ," she throws in, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "And I am totally over it."

JJ is scratching the back of his neck, looking incredibly stressed as he forces a tight, awkward laugh. 

Confessional : JJ "Man, Delaney... that's a blast from the past." He laughs awkwardly. "Look, it's already kind of known that I used to be a player. When Delaney and I were...'together', she really thought she could be the one to break me out of that lifestyle. But the truth is, I just wasn't ready. She would constantly catch me looking a little too long at other girls, flirting with other girls, and it just made things impossible. We had some really great times, don't get me wrong, but she could tell I wasn't ready for a real relationship, and honestly, she wasn't really ready for the reality of being with me either."

“Um, hi?” a girl steps forward—sharp, beautiful features, long dark hair, and an incredibly sophisticated aura. “I’m Kaitlyn, if anyone cares.” She introduces herself, breaking some of the ice with the lighthearted interjection, eyes traveling to one boy in particular, nodding once in his direction. “Nice to see you, John B.”

Confessional : Kaitlyn "Hi, I'm Kaitlyn, I'm twenty-two, and I'm a junior tech lawyer from San Francisco.” She smiles brightly, flipping her hair over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “My dating life up to this point has basically been a series of incredibly safe, predictable choices that honestly bore me to tears.” She laughs, covering her mouth. “I am so tired of the corporate, buttoned-up guys—preppy, competitive pricks who thinking competing with me in workplaces is some kind of flirtation tactic. I came here because I want to find someone who makes me feel just a little bit...reckless.” She teases, sliding her tongue across her teeth. 

John B stands in front of the girls, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. 

Confessional : John B "Kaitlyn is an amazing girl, really smart, but the reason we didn't work out is completely on me.” He groans. “I just wasn't very attentive to her. Plus, she's a junior tech lawyer, so she was already swamped with work to begin with, and whenever we actually did manage to find time to spend together, I was distracted or doing my own thing." He admits painfully. "It wasn't the quality time she hoped for. She always said she felt like an afterthought to me most of the time.” He grimaces. “There's no real hard feelings between us, at least that's what she says, but I know for a fact she would never date me again. She deserves someone who actually puts her first, and I'm focused on Sarah anyway."

The next bombshell steps up, a striking woman—incredibly tall, athletic, and gorgeous, with a fierce presence. ”Heyyy, boys,” She greets, wiggling her fingers at the guys. “I’m Haja.”

Confessional : Haja "Hey everyone, I'm Haja, I'm twenty-five, and I'm a professional dancer from Houston, Texas, baby!” She exclaims, a bright, inviting smile on her face. “I've spent the last few years of my life completely living out of a suitcase, touring all over the world with some of the biggest musical artists in the industry. And, though I’m eternally grateful, it's been impossible for me to build a real emotional connection with anyone.” She pouts, tilting her head. “I'm always just a passing moment in someone's life. I came here because I'm ready to stop being a side note. I want to be the main event."

Miles stands back, his jaw tight as he watches Haja talk to the group, trying to appear composed as he glares her down. 

Confessional : Miles "Uh, yeah, Haja and I dated for a bit.” He scratches at his chin. “It just really wasn't a good fit at the end of the day. She was touring constantly, never around, and it's hard to maintain anything real when someone is on the other side of the country every single week." He chuckles, but it’s off—nervous.

Confessional : Haja "Miles is going to play the victim, I already know it.” She deadpans. “But the truth about our relationship is that Miles was manipulative as hell, especially emotionally." She rolls her eyes, curling her lip up in disgust. "If I did the slightest thing wrong—even if it was totally accidental and I apologized for it, he would spend the next two weeks doing petty, malicious shit just to make me upset.” She snarled. “He was so tit-for-tat, always keeping score. I'm not here to win him back at all. I'm here to find a new, real man."

Then the final casa girl steps forward—a stunning figure, dark eyes, and a sultry expression. “Hello, boys,” She greets, looking them all up and down, voice smooth. “I’m Winnie.”

Confessional : Winnie "I can’t believe I’m here!” She squeals, looking around. “I'm Winnie, I'm twenty-two, from Miami, and I am a total, undeniable, unapologetic hopeless romantic.” She admits, smiling. “The Miami dating scene is brutal, and I have been ghosted one too many times by guys who just want a quick fling. I'm looking for a guy who is one hundred percent focused on me, someone who isn't intimidated by a girl who knows what she wants, and isn’t afraid to be a little bit possessive over what's theirs.” She shrugs. “If I like you, and you like me, I want everyone to know it."

Pope looks completely stunned, his eyes wide as he looks at Winnie. 

Confessional : Pope "Winnie and I... we got along pretty well, at first. She's great.” He admits, shoulders in the air. “But the main issue was that I constantly felt like a second choice to her. She had this ex-boyfriend that she was still close friends with, and they would text and hang out pretty frequently. There were multiple times where I felt like she put his needs above mine. It got to a point where I just had to find the courage to end things. We haven't spoken a single word since the breakup, so seeing her here is definitely wild."

BACK in the main villa, the five new, yet not-so-new, boys are awkwardly standing around, trying to make small talk with all of you girls who, mostly, look like you're ready to launch them into the sun.

Before anyone can say anything, the click of high heels echoes and you look up as Ariana walks gracefully out onto the pool deck, wearing a stunning dress. 

"Hi, girls," Ariana says, her voice echoing as she waves and you all cheer at her arrival. "And hello, boys. Welcome to the villa."

You all gather around the fire pit as she asks you to, the tension thick.

You make sure to sit as far away from Mattheo as physically, sandwiching yourself between Sarah and Kiara as Mattheo takes a seat on the complete opposite end, his eyes tracking your every move, which only makes your skin crawl.

Confessional : You Your lip is curled, head ducking in irritation. “Does he have a staring problem or what?”

"Ladies, I know these are some very... familiar faces," Ariana starts speaking, raising an eyebrow at the girls. "But let's not beat around the bush. Girls, how are we feeling right now?"

Sarah takes the opportunity to speak first, letting out a breathy, nervous laugh and glancing quickly at Thomas. "I mean... shocked.” She says truthfully. “Completely shocked. Seeing him walk through those doors was the last thing I ever expected. It's definitely weird."

You all hum in agreement as Ariana turns. "Kiara?" She prompts.

Kiara’s face is tight as she shrugs awkwardly. "Awkward. Very awkward.” She winces at her own words. “There are a lot of unanswered questions sitting across from me right now." She hisses, not even look at Theodore, but he just keeps that same lazy smile on his face.

"And you?" Ariana turns her gaze directly to you.

Your jaw clenches again, tongue swiping over your teeth as you think. "I'm pissed.” You grit out, an unamused smile on your face. “To be honest. I don't think it’s a secret that my past relationship was...shitty.” You say, glaring directly at Mattheo. “I spent a long time healing from it, and having him stand in front of me right now sorta feels like a sick joke."

Mattheo flinches slightly at your words, his calm facade cracking for just a fraction of a second, but he quickly recovers, looking down at his hands.

Ariana nods sympathetically. "I understand this is incredibly intense for all of you.” She gazes around, hands clasped. “But there is a reason behind this madness, and you are not the only ones in this predicament.” She starts, voice dropping. “Right now, over at Casa Amor, the boys have just arrived... and they have been greeted by five new bombshells who just so happen to be their exes."

Scoffs, sighs, humorless laughs—they all leave the five of you at once.

"Fuck," you whisper, closing your eyes for a second. 

Rafe is with Sofia. 

The girl whose name alone had nearly pushed the two of you apart, amongst other things. Regardless, your chest aches with anxiety, not knowing what the fuck was bound to happen from here.

"Now," Ariana continues, her tone turning serious. "As Casa Amor kicks off, I will require every single one of you to be in a new couple.” She looks around, eyes narrowed. “However, the decision of who you couple up with for the duration of Casa Amor will come down to a public vote. Because of that, the official coupling vote won't be happening today.” She reveals, and you all feel at least a little relieved. “You will have exactly twenty-four hours, as singles, to get to know the guys and explore new connections, then the public will decide who they think you fit best with."

Ariana smiles as you all whisper, the guys too, giving you all one last look before turning on her heel. "The villa is yours." She narrows her eyes, winking goodbye. "Good luck."

The moment Ariana walks out of the villa, you all turn to the boys.

"Okay," Cleo says, standing first and stepping forward with her hands on her hips. "We need to debrief. Go...inside, go by the gym, go wherever—just give us thirty minutes. Alone." She tells the boys, cocking an authoritative eyebrow at them all.

The boys look at each other, nodding awkwardly. Thomas clears his throat, "Yeah, totally. Take your time," And they head inside toward the kitchen, leaving the five of you alone on the outdoor daybeds.

The second they’re out of sight, you collapse into a tight circle on the biggest daybed.

"Guyssss," Sarah whines, kicking her feet and pouting. "Thomas?! He looks so good, you guys, I hate it! But John B is literally with his ex right now." Her face twists in sadness. "I'm losing my mind. Ugh."

You all dismiss her, laughing and rolling your eyes.

"Okay, I feel like we should dish everything out," Rima says, trying to bring some order. "Honestly, if anyone wants my opinion, Justin is a pretty green flag, if any of you were interested in going after him. Nothing ended terribly between me and him, we're still friends, and Sarah, you said you and Thomas still text, so I’m assuming you’re in the same boat?"

Sarah nods, crossing her legs under her. “Yeah, Thomas is great guy. Really, I was the problem. I didn’t want to be in a relationship, so we just kept leaving and coming back until he decided he didn’t want to be in that loop anymore. I couldn’t blame him.” She shrugged. “Kind of regret it, now, though. Ugh, he’s hot!”

"I can’t say much good about Theodore," Kiara scoffs, shaking her head. "He’s got a good heart, but he literally ghosted me the second I caught feelings.

“Brandon did the exact same thing to me,” Cleo interjected. “We were good, then a better job came along somewhere across the country and we never spoke again." She shrugs, her expression hardening. "Brandon can look as pretty as he wants with those new tattoos, but I'm not stupid.”

Then, all four girls turn their eyes to you.

"And then there's Mattheo," Sarah says softly. "You don’t seem to…like him.”

“I hate him.” You scoffed, leaning back on your hands. “He’s an absolute piece of shit and I have no idea why he’s here or what he wants, but I don’t care."

"As you shouldn’t," Sarah says, reaching over to squeeze your hand. "We are all praying for whatever poor girl the public decides to pair him up with. I just pray to God it isn't you."

“How bad was the break-up?” Rima digs in, looking at you.

You sighed. “It wasn’t even the break-up that soured everything. It was the relationship. It sucked to begin with, but,” You shrugged, shaking your head. “I was young, dumb, and blind. Just know, he’s a liar and a master manipulator.” You warn. “He is evil. Just trust me.”

You didn’t really feel 100% comfortable opening to them all about your past with Mattheo and turning this debrief into a support group. You didn’t want to be pitied, right now. 

"Well, if the public pairs you up with him, they are genuinely sick," Sarah says, rolling her eyes. "Don't worry, babes. If you get stuck with him, we’ll sleep out on the daybeds with you so you don't have to be near him.” She comforts. “I know we aren’t Rafe, so we don’t have a wall of abs and biceps that conquer mountains—

“Watch it,” you warned her playfully, a small smile on your face. “Or I’ll start to think I have to worry about you trying to steal him, too.” You joked, the girls laugh.

 “Ew, gross. Never. I see that man as a brother," Sarah laughs out, finishing her sentence. “But seriously, we’ve got your back.”

Your eyes well up with a pool of grateful, yet angry, tears, and you nod. "Well, thank you. Seriously.” You nod. “I just... I don’t know, seeing him brings back so many horrible memories. I don't even want to hear his voice." You let out a shaky breath, looking out toward the pool as your jaw clenches. "And I can't stop thinking about Rafe.” You sigh, shoulders slumping. “You guys know how much of a sore topic his ex was between us. He told me about her, and it took a lot for him to open up about how much she used him. And I feel really, really confident in Rafe's loyalty to me, but I just don't know about Sofia. I don't know what kind of person she is, what manipulative game she might be playing to get him back, and it's making me so anxious, my stomach hurts..."

"I get it," Sarah sighs, leaning her head on your shoulder. "I mean, it just came out that John B was in communication with his ex right before he came on the show? Now that she’s sitting with him at Casa... I'm so nervous. I don't know if there's, like, some unresolved shit there."

"I don't know how to feel," Kiara mutters, staring at her lap. "That spreadsheet stuff really turned me off from JJ. I feel like I can only hope and pray that he thinks about me before he does anything reckless, but I feel like that’s a very high hope. I just pray he isn't thinking with his dick..."

Cleo cuts in, waving her hand dismissively. "I'm really not all that nervous about Miles. I don't really care what he does over there, to be fair. Our connection has been rocky, anyway.” She admits. “I'm going to put my energy into getting to know these new guys, because I almost 100% sure that Miles is not a safe bet or someone I even want. He’s probably sweet talking someone right now."

"I feel you,” Rima jumps in, crossing her legs, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I'm still interested in getting to know Pope," Rima says with a slight shrug. "But honestly, I'm just not sure he would pick me over another girl at the moment. No offense, Cleo, but he is still clearly into you.” She motions, and Cleo just nods, an expression that says ‘fair’ on her face. “But hey, maybe him being obsessed with you will actually ensure my safety.” Rima jokes. “I don't think Pope would bring another girl back when he’s already stuck between two here." She pauses, rolling her eyes. "But... you never know what men will do."

BY late afternoon, there’s music bumping, and the villa is lively—a celebration thrown in honor of the boys' arrival. Drinks are flowing, the sun is blazing, and everyone is lounging around the pool and yard.

Despite the initial shock, as the hours tick by and you all focus on just treating the boys like regular bombshells rather than ghosts of your past, the mood starts to lighten.

Thomas gravitates toward the daybeds, but instead of pulling Sarah, his eyes are locked on Kiara. He sits next to her, flashing a bright smile, completely charmed by her laughter. Turns out, he’d actually known of her already. Living in California, he’d heard of her organizations and environmental efforts, and you think he’d been using that as the point of conversation for the last two hours.

Meanwhile, Theodore, true to his alleged mysterious nature, lounges by the edge of the pool, his torso dripping with water. He splits his time trying to spark up a conversation with Sarah for a while, but his gaze constantly wanders over to you. 

He eventually pulls you up for a brief chat by the outdoor bar.

"You look beautiful, if I didn’t tell you already," Theodore says, his slight Italian accent smooth as he hands you a drink. "I saw a few of the episodes before I came in. I see you've been having a tough time with the drama here."

"I'm managing," you say politely. 

“How’s the relationship with…”

“Rafe.” you tell him, nodding.

“Yes, Rafe,” Theo perks up, sipping his own drink.

“Good,” You nod. “Better.” Your smile grows wider, looking up at the boy in front of you. "I think we were getting back to normal, to something solid, before…"

Theodore just chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. "Solid can crack.” He shrugs. “And I like a challenge, piccola."

“P-what?” You laugh, almost spitting out your drink. “What did you just call me?”

Theo smirks, ducking his head as he laughs. “Piccola,” he reiterates. “It’s Italian. It translates to ‘little one’, but culturally it’s used the same as ‘baby’ in English.” He explains, narrowing his eyes at you. “You’re cute when you’re confused.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to actually speak Italian, for one.” You admit honestly, leaning more comfortably against the bar.

“Why’s that?” He presses.

You shrug. “I don’t know, maybe I thought you were being a little performative.” You tease. 

“Nah,” Theo shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I just don’t speak it often. But for a girl like you, I’m trying to use everything I’ve got.”

You grow silent as your cheeks grow warm, ducking your head to shield your gaze, grounding yourself as Rafe sticks to the back of your mind. Theo was cute, charming—but he wasn’t him.

On the other side of the deck, Brandon was turning on the charm, making Rima laugh as he tells a story about a botched tattoo he had to fix back in Brooklyn. Justin and Cleo are standing right beside them, his eyes are glued to Cleo as she speaks, completely captivated by her.

And then, there's Mattheo. 

He tries multiple times to approach you after you conclude your chat with Theo, walking over with a fresh drink or trying to catch your eye. But every single time he gets within a three-foot radius of you, you immediately stand up, walk away, or strike up a conversation with someone else. 

You give him absolutely zero time of day, icing him out.

AS the sun begins to set, you’re all wrapped up deep in a game of Truth or Dare.

Everyone has circled up on the giant outdoor cushions surrounding the fire pit. It doesn't take long for the game to take a typical turn—dares starting out innocent but quickly escalating into something more intimate.

Justin gets dared to give Cleo a lap dance, which leaves Cleo laughing and fan-girling as he grinds against her, his chest flexing. 

Rima gets dared to share a thirty-second kiss with Brandon, and she doesn't hold back at all, pulling him in by his neck for a breathless make-out session that leaves the rest of the group cheering, jaws on the floor.

However, when it comes to you and Sarah, the boundary is pretty firmly drawn.

Theodore turns his dark eyes to Sarah. "Sarah, truth or dare?"

"Truth," Sarah says instantly, not wanting to risk anything.

"Is there any part of you that wants to see if what you and Thomas had in the past can beat what you have with John B right now?" Theodore asks smoothly.

Sarah doesn't even hesitate. "No.” She answers easily. “Thomas is a great guy, but the past is the past for a reason."

A few turns later, Mattheo looks directly at you, his voice low. "Truth or dare?"

"Skip," you say coldly, staring directly past him.

"Come on, just a dare," Mattheo pushes, trying to look vulnerable.

"So, when I said skip, I classified that as a no," you snap, your voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You should be used to rejection, no?” 

The circle goes quiet for a second as you turn away from him, staring at the fire. You’re completely unwilling to step outside of your couple and you are damn sure unwilling to interact with this urchin across from you. 

You respect Rafe, and yourself, way too much to let him get to you, even for a game.

Kiara gets dared to body-roll against Theodore, and for a moment, she hesitates, her gut screaming at her. She wants to respect her coupling with JJ, but that humiliating spreadsheet challenge from yesterday is still burning a hole in her mind. So, with a tight jaw, she completes the dare, grinding briefly against Theodore, but she pulls away quickly.

WHEN night falls, the realization hits that everyone is technically single, and the bedroom situation needs to be figured out.

During the discussion, Kiara, Sarah, and yourself stand firm. 

"We’re sleeping on the daybeds tonight," Kiara announces. “Sorry, boys.”

You still weren’t sure where you stood with her. There was still lingering tension between you, Cleo, and her—but you took Rima’s advice straight. She was right, this experience was too short to spend the whole time mad at each other. So, you were cordial, but you weren’t overly friendly, as you once were.

Cleo and Rima look out at the dark courtyard, mosquitoes and fireflies already buzzing. "Uhhh," Cleo says, shivering slightly. "I love you all down to the ground, but I am absolutely not looking forward to getting bit up by bugs tonight. Would you feel some type of way if we didn't sleep out there with you?"

You shook your head. "No, it's totally cool, go inside, it’s okay" you reassure them with a smile, waving them off.

Rima grins mischievously, grabbing Cleo’s arm, whispering to her as an idea came to mind. "Watch this. Come,"

The two of them sprint right into the bedroom where the five boys are unpacking. Rima claps her hands loudly. "Sorry, boys, but you gotta pack it up. You guys can’t just come in here and steal our beds. We’d like a peaceful night before we’re forced to share a bed with you anyway, so, move it.” She throws them out, a smile on her face. “You are sleeping on the daybeds tonight. These beds belong to us."

The boys let out a chorus of groans and laughs, but Brandon raises his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, fair enough," The guys grab their blankets and head outside to the daybeds.

Rima and Cleo then run back out to inform the trio of you before the guys come trailing out, shoving each other onto the daybeds as you all bid them goodnight and head inside. As you walk into the bedroom, you can’t help but just stand and stare at your and Rafe's empty bed, a pout forming on your face as you throw yourself face first into the mattress, splayed out like a starfish.

“My shaylaaaa,” you whine, voice muffled as the girls giggle around you, watching you flip over, now on your back, staring sadly at the ceiling. "I can still smell his cologne on the sheets," you pout as you clutch his pillow to your chest.

"You are so dramatic," Cleo laughs, throwing a pillow at you.

You sit up, chewing your lip, your playful pout turning into a genuinely vulnerable look. "Seriously though... do you think he's sleeping alone tonight?” You ask, looking so child-like as you peer at them all. “Like... what do you think is happening at Casa?"

Sarah’s expression softens, and she walks over to sit on the edge of the mattress. "Girl, please. They couldn't tear you two apart if they tried.” She reassures. “You and Rafe are completely inseparable. He’s probably losing his mind right now wishing he was here with you, being disgustingly engrossed in each other."

"Seriously," Cleo adds, leaning against the doorframe, a small laugh on her lips. "Rafe looks at you like you're the only woman left on earth. Have some faith, babe."

You let out a soft sigh, hugging the pillow tighter. "Thanks” You sigh. “I'm pretty sure all of our guys are doing great out there. I have faith in them."

They all agree with your high spirits, save for Cleo and Kie, who are undoubtedly doubting their partners the most.

THE next morning arrives with the familiar blinding light and heat of the sun. You wake up, your neck aching slightly from not having Rafe’s chest or arm to lean on. But the real ache is in your chest. It feels incredibly weird not waking up wrapped in Rafe’s embrace, again, and not hearing him grumble about the light, not having him kiss your forehead or pull you back into him. 

Your mood is evidently dampered, a blanket of sadness settling over you.

You and the rest of the girls eventually drag yourselves to change and get ready. As you're sitting at the vanity, the door opens, and the new boys walk in, carrying plates of breakfast they each made for you all.

Thomas smiles warmly, walking over to Kiara and handing her a beautifully stacked plate of eggs and toast. “I wasn’t sure what to make, but—” he scratches the back of his neck as Kiara smiles, touched. 

"No, this is great. Thank you, Thomas."

Theodore walks in next, holding a beautifully arranged small fruit platter. He sets it down carefully between you and Sarah. "Buongiorno," he says smoothly, giving you a lingering look as you crane your neck to look at him.

“Thanks,” Sarah says, offering a smile before returning to her hair. He’d expressed interest in the both of you last night, but you figured he’d decided to focus on you since Sarah shut him down, claiming he just “wasn’t her type.”

“Let me guess, ‘good morning’?” You ask playfully, a smirk growing on his face as he plants his hands on the back of your chair.

“Sì,” he smiles, looking down at you. “You’re a fast learner.”

You just shrug cockily, taking a bite of an apple slice as he stares at you.

Brandon walks in with a plate of breakfast for Rima, making her cheer as he walks toward her, biting her lip. Meanwhile Justin brings Cleo a perfectly made iced coffee with a heart-shaped pancake, flashing his smile.

Then, the door opens one last time.

Mattheo walks into the room, holding a single mug of coffee. The room goes completely silent for second as they glance at you, then him, then try and return to their conversations as to not make this more awkward than it already is.

Mattheo clears his throat, walking over to the vanity where you're sitting. He sets the mug down right next to your makeup bag. "Here," he says, his voice quiet, trying to sound gentle. "Black with just a splash of oat milk and a spoonful of sugar. Just how I remember you like it."

You don't say a word. You don't even look up at him. You keep your eyes entirely locked on your mirror, applying your lip gloss as if he isn't even there.

Realizing he isn't getting a response, Mattheo swallows hard, nods awkwardly, and turns around, walking out of the room as the other guys follow, bidding farewells and 'see you later's', and letting the door shut behind him.

The second the click of the door echoes, you stand up. You pick up the warm mug of coffee by the handle, face completely blank. You walk into the en-suite bathroom, lean over the sink, and pour the contents of the mug straight down the drain.

Outside the bathroom door, the girls erupt into shocked gasps and hysterical laughter, still fiddling with their hair and makeup.

"Oh my," Cleo laughs, clapping her hands.

You walk back into the bedroom, setting the empty mug down with a cold scoff. "I can't stand his ass." You snarl as you sit back down at the vanity, a reluctant smirk breaking across your face. "And he didn't even make it right.” You scoff. “Probably remembering some other bitch's coffee order."

The girls get choked up with laughter, doubling-over as you fight your own amusement, the tension breaking.

Before you can even finish eating your fruit platter, a familiar text alert chimes.

“Aw, damn,” Cleo pouts, knowing what was coming as you flipped open your phone, reading the text aloud.

Girls, please gather around the fire pit immediately. It’s time to hear the voice of the public. #ThePublicHasSpoken

YOUR stomach drops and you all head out to the fire pit, taking your seats—girls on one end, guys on the other, looking equally nervous.

Ariana walks out, looking at you all with a serious expression. "Good morning, Islanders,” she greets, a smile on her face. “Yesterday, I told you that the public would be voting on which connections they want to see explored. And today, I have the results.” She drags out, meeting each of your eyes. “When I call your name, I will reveal who the public has officially coupled you up with for the duration of Casa Amor."

The silence stretches, and you all avoid each other’s eyes, nervous.

After at least a full minute’s silence, Ariana speaks. "Sarah,” she calls. “The public sees a spark of unresolved chemistry, but they also want to see a potentially fresh start. They have spoken and coupled you up…with Thomas." 

You all clap lightly and Sarah nods, giving Thomas a polite, friendly smile.

Sarah and Thomas walk up and join hands halfway, standing next to Ariana, in front of you all. “Sarah, Thomas—how do you feel about what the public voted?”

Sarah purses her lips, standing politely beside Thomas. “I’m not sure,” She admits honestly, looking down. “I just think we left the past in the past and I’m okay with that.”

Thomas nods. “I agree. I’ll always have love for Sarah but I think our fire fizzled out a long time ago.” He laugh nervously, looking down briefly.

Ariana shoots them a pitiful look. “Well, either way, congratulations to you two.” She says, turning back to face the rest of you.

"Cleo,” she calls out. “The public loves your fierce energy, and they want to see if a certain model can handle it. They have coupled you up with... Justin." 

Cleo beams, clearly thrilled, while Justin flashes a proud smile. They both stand up and Justin extends his hand out for her to take as they join Sarah and Thomas.

“Congratulations to you both,” Ariana smiles. “How are you feeling?”

Cleo smiles, bigger than she has in a while. “I’m excited,” she admits. “I think he’s sexy, obviously,” she says, eliciting a chorus of small giggles. “And I think we made some great conversation yesterday, so I’m happy.”

“Justin?”

“I’m happy, yeah, I’m happy.” He smiles, looking down at Cleo, their hands still intertwined. “Cleo’s great, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her, so I’m excited to see where this goes.”

“That’s amazing to hear,” Ariana cooes, turning back to the remainder of you—Kiara, Rima, you, beside Theodore, Brandon, and Mattheo.

"...Kiara." Ariana's eyes flicker to the girl. "The public wants to see how you handle the vegas bad boy.” She teases. “They have officially coupled you up with... Mattheo. Would you both please join the other two couples?"

Kiara’s jaw drops and for the first time in days, she makes eye contact with you before snapping her gaze towards Mattheo whose jaw is clenched. She lets out a disgusted groan under her breath, only loud enough for you and Rima to hear. Rima squeezes her shoulder, while you sit, feeling an immediate wave of gratitude that it wasn't you, but feeling horrible that she got stuck with him.

Kiara and Mattheo stand and they walk side by side to join the other couples, not making contact as Mattheo clasps his hands in front of him and Kiara mindlessly fixes her dress.

“What are your thoughts?” Ariana asks once again. “Do you agree with the public’s decision?”

Kiara immediately responds. “Absolutely not.” She scoffs, offering no further elaboration.

Mattheo chews the inside of his cheek, ignoring her comment. “I’d have to agree. I think Kiara’s a great girl…but she’s not who I came for.” He says, eyes glued to you.

All you do is glare at him before abruptly ripping your eyes away, figuring he didn’t even deserve the luxury of simply even looking at you.

“Well, hopefully, the two of you can find some common ground,” Ariana throws out, pitifully. "Rima," she continues. "The public wants to see if you might be able to tame a certain flight risk. They have coupled you up with... Brandon."

Rima beams, winking at Brandon, who grins back as they rise and take each other’s hand, joining the other couples.

"That leaves our final single girl." Ariana looks at you, her head held high. "The public thinks you have unmatched chemistry with a certain boy in another villa, but they want to see if it holds up in the presence of a certain charming Italian.” She amuses, everyone around letting out small laughs. “They voted to couple you up with... Theodore."

You let out a massive sigh of relief. Theodore. Thank God. Anyone but Mattheo. 

Theodore gives you a slow, reassuring nod from across the deck, standing up to walk over and help you up, the two of you walking in sync to join the other couples.

“You two look happy,” Ariana eggs on. “What are we thinking?”

“I’m happy,” Theodore smiles, but his smiles always look like smirks. “I’ve had my eye on her since we walked in, so I’m hoping I can leave a lasting impression, maybe get her to take me home with her.”

You smile, ducking your head as Ariana calls your name and you look up, opening your mouth to speak. “It could be worse,” you throw out, eyes flashing towards Mattheo for less than a second. “But yeah, I’m excited to get to know Theodore. He's been nothing but sweet to me.” You nodded.

You kept it calm, civil. You didn’t want to be stuck up and rude but you also didn’t want to give off the wrong impression.

Because you missed Rafe, you wanted Rafe. 

"Well, congratulations.” Ariana nods, examining all of the couples. “And good luck. To you all.”

AFTER Ariana departs, the villa fractures, all of the couples breaking apart to have private conversations.

Sarah and Thomas were sat by the daybeds, the vibe between them relaxed.

"Honestly," Sarah says, crossing her legs. "You know I don't have any negative feelings toward you at all, but I was kind of hoping the public would put me with someone else. I’m not really open to exploring anyway but, it would’ve been nice to explore a totally new connection here, not drag up a past that we both know didn't work out."

Thomas nods understandingly, rubbing his neck. "Yeah, no, I get it. No hard feelings at all.” He agrees. “To be honest... I’ve had my eye on Kiara. I really wanted to couple up with her but, I mean I can still pull her for chats and everything.” He shrugs. “Since I moved to California, I've heard so much about her and the things she does. I really admire her and she seems really passionate about it all, and I think she’s beautiful, of course."

Sarah’s eyes light up, a grin breaking across her face. She immediately pushes him toward her friend. "Oh my god, go for it!” She gushes. “Kie is amazing, and I mean we’ve had our differences and I think she’s definitely a bit lost, but honestly, you two would be so cute together. Go, go talk to her." She shoos him away.

OVER by the sun loungers, Cleo and Justin are non-stop smiling at one another, wrapped in each other’s presence and conversation. You'd never seen her click so fast with anyone, well, aside from Pope during the earlier days.

"I'm not gonna lie," Cleo says, leaning back with a smirk. "I’m actually really excited it was us. I’ve already told you that you’re my type ‘n everythin’. So, I’m happy, y’know? I’d like to get to know you..."

Justin smiles, his eyes locked on hers. "That makes two of us.” He flirts, sliding closer. “Honestly, when I first saw you, I thought you were almost like Rima, but in a completely different font. You both have that fierce, independent energy.” The statement makes Cleo’s face twist. “But I promise you, that's not the reason I'm pursuing you!” He defends. “I’m not that kinda guy. I think you're absolutely beautiful, and I want to see where we can go. But, I guess I was just saying that there’s no denying that I have type."

Rima walks past them, giving Cleo a cheeky thumbs-up and a wink. She had already given Cleo the ‘go’ earlier, assuring her she was completely over Justin and even putting in a good word for him.

OVER by the outdoor gym, one couple is completely miserable, though. Kiara is sitting on a weight bench, her arms crossed, looking at Mattheo with complete disinterest and disdain.

"Look, “ Kiara starts, her voice clipped. "I don’t know why they put me with you. Okay?"

Confessional : Kiara "Even if me and her might be at odds right now or not even really friends anymore... that does not mean I am ever going to get to know her piece of shit ex-boyfriend. Absolutely not. I get there are two sides to every story but she seems pretty adamant on the fact that he's a terrible person. And I'm not interested."

Mattheo keeps up his perfectly calm, collected demeanor, nodding slowly as if he’s a deeply enlightened man. "Look, Kiara, I completely understand why you're closed off towards me.” He nods. “I know I was a…dick, in the past. But I’m being completely honest when I say I came here to make amends with her. I figure if I can prove to the rest of you, first, that I've actually changed, maybe you guys can…I don't know, help put a good word in for me with her?"

Kiara just scoffs. “I don’t know what happened between you guys but, she seems to hate you and all you want is to get her back. I'm not exactly seeing where I fit into all of that...”

Mattheo sighs. "I'm not a bad guy," He pleads, face scrunching in desperation as he nearly pleads with the girl. "You want the truth? I can't stand to see her getting close to that guy—what's his—Rafe? Yeah, Rafe." He throws his name out there, the sound sounding not far from the hiss of an angry snake. "I was stuck watching her oogle him on an 85-inch flat screen for two weeks. I just...it made me realize how much I miss her."

Kiara groans. “Again, tough luck." She deadpans. "I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of that. And if she left you and still despises you all this time later, then I'm assuming she's gone for good reasons." She states, blunt. "You want advice? Either find someone else or just tell them you want to go home. But...just leave her alone. But, considering I can already see the type of persistent guy you are, I know you aren't going to listen to a word I just said, so, good luck.” And with that, she stands, rolling her eyes and walks away, leaving him standing alone.

MEANWHILE, Rima and Brandon are chatting by the pool bar, and you swear you've never seen Rima with literal stars in her eyes until today.

"I think you're really cute," Rima says straightforwardly, sipping her drink. "You're definitely not my typical type, and honestly, I'm kind of scared you might still be as flaky as Cleo says you were. But... I'm open to seeing what happens."

Brandon smiles softly, his tatted arms resting on the counter. "I think you're beautiful, Rima. I love your personality, too.” He says earnestly. “I don't still have those same romantic feelings for Cleo, but I really do want to apologize to her, at least, for ghosting her the way I did." His face falls. "I was pretty selfish back then. I just want to clear the air but if she shoots me down, I completely understand. I won't push it.” He tells her. “But honestly, my real interest is in you. I mean, from the moment I watched you come in, I started counting down the days until I knew I'd get the chance to get to know you."

"Oh," Rima perks up. "So, you guys have been watching us?"

Brandon nods. "Hell yeah," He laughs. "They have us locked up in a hotel room for weeks before they set us free. All we can do is watch you all."

Rima hums, looking around because fixing him with a playful, pointed stare. "So?" She shrugs, cocking a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "What are your thoughts?"

The man pretends to think, eyes never leaving her. "I think all of you women are probably the most attractive women I've ever seen in my life, for one." He offers honestly. "Looks and personality wise, for that matter. But, the guys?" He winces. "I think you could all do a lot better..."

"Does that 'better' happen to be you?"

He smirks then, edging closer to her. "For you? Yeah, it does."

YOU and Theodore were sitting on the beanbags. You’ve come to learn over the past twenty-four hours or so that Theodore is pretty quiet, a little mysterious, and not very talkative, which makes you a little confused about him.

"I want to be completely honest with you," you say, looking him in the eye. "I am not entirely open. Rafe and I aren’t closed off but...he means a lot to me."

Theo hums, shifting. "Are you saying it would take a lot to get in between that?" He asks, but the words come out more challenging.

You dismiss the undertone, nodding and relaxing in your own seat.

Theodore nods, his dark eyes staring into yours. "I respect that. I understand. But I can’t deny that I do think you are incredibly beautiful.” His voice dips, damn near throwing everything you just said out of the window as his eyes bore into yours. “You caught my eye from the moment you came in on that first day and you haven't lost it once since." He flirts. "And seeing you in person?” He whistles, hand ghosting over your arm. “Jaw-dropping, really. And your personality tops it all off.”

Confessional : Theodore "I get it. She's loyal to Rafe, which is attractive, if I’m being honest—loyalty—but if she is entirely unwilling to break off that connection with him..." He lets his words die, shrugging. "but I’m hoping I can wear her down. We'll see how the next few days go."

IN the middle of the afternoon, as everyone is still scattered about, talking—that dreaded text chime rings through the villa.

“Oh, sh—I got a text!” Thomas shouted, a boyish grin on his face as he stands, voice loud.

Islanders, it's time to saddle up and show us what you've got. Welcome to the Rodeo Challenge! #HoldOnTight #BuckingBronco

IN the center of the lawn sits a massive mechanical bull surrounded by a giant inflatable protective ring.

The theme is wild-west sexy, and damn, did you look good. Everyone had their staples—cowboy hats, bandanas, leather belts, denim, paisley patterned patches.

The afternoon sun is blazing down on the villa, and the twangy beat of a country-pop song is already thumping through the outdoor speakers.

You all step out, clad in your wild-west glam, but the second you step out into the sunlight, every single eye in the villa glues itself to you. Your skin glows against the vibrant red gingham-patterned tie halter top, which loops into a bow in front of your cleavage and flawlessly frames your shoulders. 

The frayed denim shorts hug you perfectly, leaving very little to the imagination, while a wine-colored bandana swings and sways casually from your right back pocket. Atop your head sits a brown leather cowboy hat, casting a sultry shadow over your eyes. 

Still, everyone looked delicious.

Before anyone could speak, the text tone goes off, and Sarah goes fishing for her phone, reading the text aloud. 

Islanders, welcome to Raunchy Rodeo! The rules are simple—each of you must ride the mechanical bull for as long as possible, but you must do it in the absolute sexiest, most scandalous way possible. At the end of the challenge, the girls will vote on who the sexiest guy was, and guys will do the same for the girls."

“That’s it?” Sarah asked, face twisting.

“Right?” Kie jumps in. “I was hoping there was a catch.”

“Maybe you just gotta ride it and find out—” Thomas starts, attempting a joke as suddenly, a second alert blares from Sarah’s phone.

She gasps, reading the update aloud. "Wait!' She perks up, reading the new message

Islanders, the ride isn't over when you bite the dust. Once you're thrown from the bull, you must lasso your lover—grab the golden rope, choose one islander to sexily tie up, and seal the deal with a scandalous kiss!"

Just then, the bull comes to life, making you all flinch — gears whirring, all of your eyes go wide as it spins for a second, wondering how they hell you were supposed to stay planted on that thing.

“Oh, hell no,” Cleo scoffs, laughing as you all watch the bull spin wildly.

Suddenly, another text tone goes off, Rima digging her phone out of her shorts, taking a moment to read the text. “Well, I guess I'm up first,” She smiles, giddy, tucking her phone away. She struts up to the bull, stepping into the ring before saddling up.

Rima brings her typical confidence to the challenge, and the moment the bull starts spinning, she drops incredibly low onto the saddle, arching her back and leaning into the motion. She turns it into a literal dance routine—a slow, heavy chest-pop and a sexy wink right towards the boys', more specifically—Brandon, who blows a kiss right back. 

Everyone is cheering her on, watching her handle it like a pro until one swift swing has her flying off, laughing. “I did good!” She laughs, still on her back, sticking two thumbs in the air. You and the girls cheer her on still as she gets up and climbs out the ring, high-fiving her.

Scrambling out of the inflatable, Rima instantly snatches up the golden lasso on standby, and, with a wicked grin, she struts straight over to the boys' lineup, eyeing them all before throwing the loop over Brandon. She pulls the rope taut, winding it tightly around his waist to drag his chest flush against hers, before planting a hard kiss right on his lips.

Then Sarah’s device pings again, signaling her turn as she climbs onto the bull with a loud, giggling shriek, her blonde ponytail swinging, a pink bandana around her neck. The bull gives a sharp tilt, and Sarah’s almost flies straight off of it. She screams, clamping both eyes shut, holding onto the leather strap with both hands for dear life. She manages to give a cute ‘yee-haw!’ before the bull does a sudden spin, sending her sliding off into the inflatable after a solid fifteen seconds. 

She sits up, laughing hysterically, flipping the loose hairs out of her face.

Sarah grabs her rope with a giggling shriek as she marches right over to Brandon as well and playfully whips him with the rope, sliding it behind his neck, using the ends to tug him down. "Sorry, Rima, he's just too hot!" she laughs, leaning in to give him a fun, still relatively tame, kiss.

Confessional : Sarah "I couldn't help it!" She laughs. "None of the guys are really my type but it's something about those damn tattoos!"

Then, it’s Kiara’s turn and she steps up, playfully serving face as she steps into the ring. She mounts the bull confidently, gripping the rope with one hand while tossing her gorgeous curls back with the other. As the bull starts to buck, Kie rides smoothly, keeping her posture upright and arched, locking eyes with Thomas, giving him a sultry hair flip that has him cheering loudly from the sidelines.

Eventually though, her hand slips and the bull tilts back, sending her sliding off.

Though, she pops up from the padding, entirely unbothered, and grabs the rope, keeping her gaze locked onto Thomas. She saunters over and loops the rope around his shoulders, circling him before pulling him down to her level as she delivers a slow, lingering kiss that completely melts his goofy demeanor.

Confessional : Kie "Kissing him was way better than I thought," She bites her lip before seemingly realizing what she said, straightening out. "Not that I was thinking about it."

When it’s Cleo’s turn, she brings it all the way on—straddling the bull with a confident smirk, completely unfazed by the mechanical roaring beneath her and the unpredictable jerky movements. While holding on tightly, she leans all the way back until her curls practically touch the bull's back, sliding one hand slowly down the side of her thigh. It’s smooth, effortless, and has everyone damn near drooling.

You probably cheered the loudest watching her, if it weren't for Justin whose voice boomed over everyone’s, hyping her up. 

Though, you think he was the real reason she fell, because she was so busy laughing at his antics that she slipped and rolled off into the inflatable.

Cleo shakes her head, still laughing as she grabs her lasso. She struts directly toward Justin, slithering up and down his frame as she ties a harness around him in record time, so fast none of you really noticed until she was tugging him forward, lip tucked between her teeth. Justin seems all too happy to be at his mercy and she matches his energy with a passionate, jaw-dropping kiss that leaves him completely speechless and grinning like an idiot.

Then, you feel a vibration against your leg, pulling out your phone.

It’s your turn. Show ‘em what you’re made of! #ThisTownAintBigEnoughForAllOfUs

You can’t conceal your excitement as you pocket your phone and adjust the brim of your brown cowboy hat as the music thumps, your bandana swinging against your denim shorts as you saunter over to the bull.

But instead of mounting the bull normally, you swing your leg over the saddle, but you face the back, mounting the bull in reverse.

"Oh my god," Sarah squeals from the sidelines, slapping all of the girls arms. "She’s doing it backward! Yes!"

Instead of the leather strap behind you, you grab the bull’s tail, locking your thighs tightly around the seat. When the machine starts, you don't fight the bucking motion, you go along with it. And because you're facing reverse, the movement forces your body into a slow, mesmerizing roll of your hips. With every twist, spin, and jolt of the bull, you sway almost effortlessly.

You pinch the front of your cowboy hat, looking directly at the boys over your shoulder. The ghost of a smirk is plastered on your face, and the shadow of your cowboy hat cuts across your sharp expression. You have this undeniable, intoxicating aura and even more, you look completely breathtaking, dangerous, and sexy as hell. The bandana whips through the air as the bull speeds up, but you just hold your gaze right on the boys, completely unbothered. You stay on for, what has to be, almost a full minute before sliding off gracefully with one particularly harsh jolt, landing on your feet in the padding.

When your feet hit the ground, everyone is going wild—shouts and whistles as the girls all jump and crowd around you while you grab the rope.

Confessional : Theodore "Dio mio... backwards?” His eyebrows are wide in shock, pupils blown. “And when she looked right over her shoulder, fuck, I swear to you, for a split second, I forgot my own name."

Confessional : Mattheo "Yeah, that was…something.” He blushes, palming the back of his neck. “Hot is an understatement."

Confessional : Cleo "Listen... Mattheo. I understand it now, honey. I would want her back, too!” She bursts into a fit of hysterical laughter. “If I fumbled a literal goddess like that, I would also fly across the world, show up on a reality TV show, and beg on national television. It’s not like I didn’t get it before but, like, I get it now. We all get it. Ohh, I know that boy is pissy!"

Before the cheers can even die down, you grab your lasso, locking eyes with Theo, walking over with a confident smirk. You spin the rope with one hand, circling him , letting the rope restrict his arms against his torso, pulling his body flush against yours, and lean up to give him a kiss that leaves him visibly dazed and the rest of the villa screaming.

Once you’re done and settled and all of the girls have gone, a ping comes from the boy’s side, just before Thomas glances at his phone and steps up first for the boys, full of energy.

He starts off strong, yelling something hilarious, but his long legs work against him. The second the bull does a rough double-spin, his balance goes out the window. He gets launched off within ten seconds, doing a dramatic, theatrical roll into the ring that has all the girls screaming with laughter as the guys clap him on the back.

He scrambles up, laughing as he grabs the rope and stumbles over to Kie, playfully looping it around her waist and pulling her into a messy, but surprisingly sweet and sexy kiss that has her laughing against his lips.

Then, Theodore’s phone goes off and the guys cheer him on, patting him on the back as he climbs into the ring. And you’ll admit, seeing him damn near shirtless did things for you, watching as he mounts the bull slowly, keeping his unbuttoned flannel shirt flowing. He rides the machine, steady, his dark eyes locked on you the entire time. 

Everyone is clearly entranced and he’s obviously using his eyes—their darkness, they way their lidded in the sexiest way possible—to his advantage. 

Riding the bull doesn’t seem to be a struggle for him, and you’re almost certain that when he’s 'thrown off', he was really just bored and decided to get off, shooting a wink on his way out of the ring.

The second his feet hit the grass, he doesn't waste a single second. Theo grabs his lasso and walks straight toward you. Winding the rope securely around your waist as he yanks you firmly against his bare chest, pushing your cowboy hat up with the tip of his nose to see your face better.

You grin nervously, cheeks hot. "Hi," you breathe, and he chuckles, his dark eyes dropping to your lips before he leans down, delivering a breathtakingly sexy kiss that snatches the air from your lungs. He keeps it calm, though, stepping back with a smirk before returning to the boys' side.

Next, Mattheo steps up. Unfortunately, him being a dick didn’t negate the fact that he was a very attractive man—solid abs, an ever-present smirk on his face. But you ignore it all, everyone cheers him on and you just stand back with your arms crossed, glaring into his soul, making him feel just as uncomfortable as he once made you feel. He climbs on, glaring back in your direction, and attempts to ride the bull with only one hand tucked into his pocket. However, his posture is incredibly stiff. He misses the fun, playful vibe of the challenge entirely, looking tense and frustrated as he gets thrown off after twenty seconds and you scoff.

Mattheo rises up and grabs the rope, marching directly to you. Without a word, he wraps the rope around your wrists, tying your hands together before winding them tightly behind his own neck, forcing you close for a forceful kiss. But you don't give him the satisfaction.

With a cold, sharp smirk, you effortlessly slip right out of his knot as his lips move against your stiff ones, holding your hands up and letting to loose rope fall to the ground.

"You were never very good at that," you quip sassily, pushing him off you, casually wiping your lips with the back of your hand, leaving him standing there, sheepishly.

After Mattheo resettles with the guys, Justin’s phone goes off and its his turn. And he manages to turn his ride into a literal fitness magazine shoot. The second his feet touch the inflatable ring, he’s posing playfully, but he still makes it look good—shirtless, shorts hanging low on his hips. He jumps onto the saddle, and as the bull starts to move, he starts ticking off body-builder poses—flexing his biceps, and flashing his perfect smile at Cleo, even pointing a her.

And although, he gets flipped off after twenty seconds or so, Justin bounds up, grinning ear to ear as he grabs his lasso. He struts straight to Cleo, twirling the rope before wrapping it snugly around her hips. He pulls her into a deep and slow kiss, before slowly pulling back and walking away.

Last, Brandon walks up to the bull and just casually pulls his shirt off like its nothing, revealing more tattoos than you aware of. He was practically painted in them and the collective intake of breath from the girls, and the guys, is audible.

Brandon’s physique is other worldly—remarkably lean but packed with dense, hard muscle, and his abs are so sharply defined they look like they were carved out of stone. The intricate tattoos winding across his chest, up his neck, and completely coating both of his arms top it all off, making him look ruggedly beautiful.

But what completely wins you all over isn't just the body, it's his charm. As he mounts the bull, he isn't taking himself seriously at all—he grips the rope, his tatted torso flexing as he rolls with the bucking motion.

And then, he looks over at the girls and flashes this incredibly dazzling, dimple-ridden smile that completely softens his rugged look, making him look sweet, playful, and charming all at once. Every single one of you melts, there was no denying it. Rima bites her lip, and even Cleo tries her best to hide a massive grin as he rides the bull perfectly for nearly a minute before sliding off, giving a playful bow.

Brandon snatches up the lasso, dimples flashing as he walks over to Cleo. Instead of making it an awkward spectacle, he loops the rope loosely around her, using the close proximity to lean down and whisper a genuine, yet low-key apology to smooth things over.

It works beautifully, and Cleo’s eyes soften as she smiles, accepts the apology, and grants him a soft kiss. But knowing he's into Rima, Brandon smoothly steps over to her right after, planting a wet, playful kiss right on her cheek, making her giggle.

Confessional : Rima "I'm not mad he chose Cleo, it was friendly and he told me he wanted to smooth things over, which I admire. I think it's respectful." she says casually. "I just wish I was the one to get tied up." She winks

Confessional : Cleo

"Feeling Brandon's lips on mine for the first time in a long time had me feelin' a little hot, I can't lie!" Cleo laughs. "But, no, I did appreciate his apology. I wasn't expecting some serious sit down from him. He's not that kind of guy. I'm just glad we can be okay and move on."

As Brandon rejoins the guys, the text tone goes off another time, Justin pulling his phone from his shorts, reading the text aloud over the music. 

Islanders, it looks like that mechanical bull wasn’t the only thing getting completely turned on today... It’s now time to decide who actually knows how to handle a wild ride. Guy, vote for the sexiest girl. Girls, vote for the sexiest boy. #SaveAHorseRideABombshell #ExcellentHipAction 

The second the text comes through, you and the girls immediately huddle up, the guys circling each other as well.

"Whew, okay," Rima starts, fanning herself. "The bull was doing its thing, but my eyes were doing the most work." She jokes. "Who are y’all thinking?"

Sarah laughs at her antics, biting her lips. "...I think I might be a bit bias, but we can rule out Thomas in my opinion, because bless his heart, he looked like a helicopter spinning out of control." She holds back a fit of laughter, making all of you giggle. "That had to have been, what, ten seconds max?"

"And Mattheo looked stiff as a fuckin' board," you chime in, rolling your eyes as you adjust your shorts. "He was trying so hard to look all brooding that he forgot you actually have to put some work in. Like, you’re not a pillow princess, babe.” You rolled your eyes, making the other girls stifle laughs. It was…ugh."

"I mean, what about Theodore though?" Cleo pipes up, twisting a coil around her finger. "He definitely had me excited. It was kind of hot how he didn't even look stressed, but I do think it was a little serious for the vibe, you know? It was lacking a bit."

You all nod, humming in agreement.

Kiara crosses her arms, a knowing smirk on her face as she glances over at Justin and Brandon, who are laughing by the pool table across the yard. "Justin’s little routine was cute, but it felt like I was watching a fitness infomercial.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “If we are talking about real, live action, panty-dropping sex appeal... we all know who took it home."

"Brandon," You all say in unison, bursting out laughing. 

"When he took that shirt off? I started salivating, I swear.” Rima gushed. “The abs, the tats? It's honestly not even fair for the other guys."

"I hate to give his ego the satisfaction," Cleo laughs, shaking her head, "but Rima’s right. The man is sexy."

"It was the smile for me," you admit, cracking a smile under your cowboy hat. "I’m a sucker for dimples. And he's got one of those faces that makes it impossible to be mad at him."

"Alright, so it's unanimous," Kiara says. "Brandon it is."

With your vote officially locked in, you all turn to the boys and wait, watching them whisper. They’re huddled up in a tight circle, gesturing wildly.

It takes them a solid two minutes of intense arguing before they finally agree and turn to face the group of you.

“Okay, we’ve decided,” Justin starts, tilting his head. “Would you ladies like to do the honors?”

You all shake your heads, crossing your arms. “Gentlemen, first.” Cleo tuts.

Justin tilts his head, eyes on her. “I...don’t believe that’s how the saying goes.” He muses, teasing.

Cleo narrows her eyes at him. “Just tell us who you chose.” She quips.

Justin throws his hands up in mock surrender, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.” He submits, clearing his throat. “We think you all did great, some real show-stoppers,” Justin dragged out dramatically. “But we all agreed that this girl really stole the show and looked good as hell doing it, so we voted…Y/N.” He throws both of his hands out in your direction.

They all clap it up as you pretend to be shy, shielding yourself, playfully waving them off.

“Let’s go, babe!” Rima cheered, flipping her hair over her shoulder and looking at the boys. “Alright,” she starts, everyone quieting down. “We chose this boy because he really gave us everything.” She gushes. “Plus, the tattoos gave him some brownie points for sure, sooooo, we voted…Brandon!” She smiles, all the guys immediately clapping him on the back as you and the girls clapped, scoffing at their antics.

In the middle of their rowdiness, your phone goes off, though no one hears it. You fish the device out of your pocket, opening up the message. “Wait, I got a text!” you announce, everyone quieting down and turning to you.

“Really? What’s it say now?” Sarah inquires as they all crowd you as you read it out.

Y/N and Brandon, as the winners of today’s challenge, you two have won a private date outside the villa!

The words barely leave your lips before everyone goes absolutely chaotic.

"Oh my god!" Sarah shrieks, jumping up and throwing her hands in the air. "Yes! Get out of here!" She yells, clapping her hands loudly.

“I hate you,” Rima sneers playfully, shoving your shoulder in a joking manner, a grin on her face.

You stand there, holding the phone, a wide smile breaking across your face. You look over at Brandon, who is already grinning, dimples on full display as the guys surround him, roughing up his hair and slapping his tatted shoulders.

You and Brandon made short, small talk yesterday, but haven’t expressed a romantic interest in each other, especially considering your coupling with Theo and with your heart being completely locked down by Rafe, and Brandon’s eyes are firmly set on getting to know Rima—but neither of you are mad about this at all. 

In fact, you’re both overjoyed to get a free pass out of the villa—get some free drinks, and escape everyone for a few hours with a change of scenery.

"Wear a hoodie and don't smile at her!" Theodore yells, laughing as he pulls Brandon into a bro-hug. 

"Man, I'm just excited to see what the outside world looks like again," Brandon laughs, looking over the crowd at you, giving you a playful, friendly wink. "You ready to get out of here?"

"More than ready," you laugh back. 

But as the celebration rings out, Mattheo is standing completely frozen, knuckles turning white as he curls his hands into fists. The fake, calm, 'reformed man' facade he’s been trying to pull off all day is shattering the farther you walk away. His face is dark, his jaw clenching so hard you can practically hear his teeth grinding together from across grass. 

He glares directly at Brandon, then shifts his burning eyes to you, looking like he just watched his prize at the county fair get handed to someone else. He looks furious, seething over the fact that that his plan to win you back was getting derailed every time he tried.

Theodore, on the other hand, is relatively unbothered. His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you laugh with Brandon. But he doesn't look angry like Mattheo—that’s just not him—but there’s a slight look of disappointment on his face as he watches you and Brandon head inside to get dressed up, walking side by side, talking enthusiastically.

Confessional : You "Do Brandon and I have romantic vibes? No.” You say bluntly. “I know my stance. Brandon knows it, I think everyone does, and I know he’s trying with Rima. But winning this challenge?” You perk up, jumping in your seat. “I am that bitch!” You hype yourself, giggling, re-adjusting your cowboy hat. “I’m surprised I even remember how to do that. That could’ve been overly embarrassing if I fell off in, like, ten seconds. I’m just glad to get some fresh air and hang out with Brandon, he’s honestly a chill guy. I could see myself being friends with him."

Confessional : Brandon "Honestly? I’m stoked I won, means I get to leave the villa for a bit, clear my head, and have a laugh." He gives a casual smile. "And sharing the win with Y/N is awesome.” He gleams. “She did her thing. I mean, mounting the bull backwards? That shit was hot, easily the sexiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.” He chuckles, deep. “I know she’s completely locked down with Rafe, and I’ve got nothing but respect for that. Rafe is a lucky dude. I'm not trying to step on his toes or anything. I don’t see us being anything other than friends, but hey, a free date outside the villa with a beautiful, cool girl? I'm not complaining."

As you and Brandon disappear into the villa, the rest of the islanders sit around, gushing about the challenge. Everyone was on the daybeds or by the pool or in the kitchen, chatting, but Mattheo was secluded on the terrace, fuming.

Confessional : Rima "I am so happy for my girl! Like, obviously I wanted a piece of that tatted cowboy for myself—did you see those abs? I was drooling,” she fawned, sighing. “but if anyone deserved to win today, it was her. Watching her ride that bull backwards was iconic. And honestly, the best part of the entire thing was watching Mattheo’s face.” She burst out laughing. “I know that boy is going to be crying himself to sleep tonight, and I love that."

Confessional : Theodore "She looked incredible. The outfit, the way she handled the bull, hell, even the cowboy hat was doing things to me... she’s gorgeous. And dangerous. And extremely sexy.” He laughs to himself, realizing he was getting lost in his head. “I voted for her, of course. It is a bit of a shame she is going on a date with Brandon instead of me, but it is what it is. She tells me she's completely focused on Rafe, and I like a girl who stands her ground, but I hope the door doesn’t stay completely locked."

Confessional : Mattheo "It’s ridiculous. The public pairs her with Theodore, and now she’s going on a date with Brandon?” He hisses, narrowing his eyes. “It should have been me. I came on this show for her, to show her I’ve changed, and she won’t even look me in the eye. She’s out there riding mechanical bulls backwards, acting like she’s completely single, and now she’s going off with this guy? What does he have that I don’t? Some tattoos? A couple of dimples?” He scoffs. “She’s just doing this to punish me. It’s pushing my buttons, she knows it is."

BACK in the villa, the girls have cornered you in the glam room just before you headed downstairs to leave with Brandon, shutting the door tightly behind you to lock the boys out.

"Alright, layout the optionsss!" Sarah squeals, running over to your wardrobe. "You need to look good, bitch, like you always do, but that’s beside the point. And not because you're trying to couple up with Brandon, but because we need Mattheo to lose his mind when you walk down those stairs."

"Exactly," Cleo laughs, leaning against the vanity as she watches you touch up your lip gloss. "Give him a taste of what he fumbled, honey. You should’ve seen his face. He was pissed."

You laugh, pulling out a gorgeous, flowy sundress that beautifully compliments you, pairing it with some simple jewelry and letting your hair fall perfectly around your face as you don't say much, not wanting to think about your ex.

"Oh! Ask him about his tattoos, I need leverage." Rima winks, leaning against the closet door. "And look, if you get bored, just ask him why he ghosted Cleo so we can get more dirt on him because I still want to know."

"Hey!" Cleo throws a makeup sponge at Rima, laughing. "But seriously, just have fun. Enjoy the break from us, the drama, and relax, and stop thinking about Rafe." She plucks your arm. "You’ve had the same notch in between your eyebrows since we found out what was going on."

You sigh, giving the girls a massive group hug before grabbing your small clutch bag. "Thanks.” You give them a downturned smile. “Keep an eye on Mattheo for me, make sure he doesn’t try to steal a pair of my underwear to try and put a spell on me." You teased.

"It'd only give me an excuse to beat up a man," Rima promises with a smirk and you wave them all goodbye.

You walk down the stairs of the villa, heels clicking. Brandon is already waiting by the front doors, looking remarkably handsome in a clean, short-sleeved black button-down shirt that lets his arm tattoos peek out, paired with some basic pants. He looks up as you descend, his eyes widening slightly before that smile takes over his face.

"Wow," Brandon says genuinely, shaking his head. "You look great."

"Thanks, cowboy," you tease, walking over to him. "I take it you weren't a fan of Theo's hoodie idea?" You taunt, a friendly smile on your lips as Brandon laughs under his breath.

"Eh, he'll be alright." He replies back, smiling smally.

"Ready to blow this popsicle stand?" You tease with a faux-country cadence to your words, nudging his shoulder.

He nods, guiding you out. "Let's do it."

As Brandon leads you out to the car, you catch one last glimpse of the villa over your shoulder.

Mattheo is standing by the kitchen island, staring daggers straight at Brandon’s back, chest heaving with a glass clutched between his fingers. Next to him, Theodore watches you go with an unreadable look, flashing you a soft smile as you return the favor.

You turn back to the door, a completely unbothered smirk plastered on your face as you slide your arm politely through Brandon's.

MOMENTS later, you and Brandon are whisked away to a secluded stone terrace overlooking the cliffs of the island. A spread of champagne, strawberries, and charcuterie sits between you on a rustic wooden table.

The atmosphere is calm, relaxing as you both take your seats across from one another.

"Well, cheers to being the sexiest motherfuckers in the villa," Brandon chuckles, clinking his champagne glass against yours as he scoots himself in. His smile is warm, and up close, his tattoos are a lot more intricate, you noticing one in every spot, leaving little space without any ink.

"Cheers," you laugh, taking a sip. "Honestly, I needed to get out of that villa for a second. This whole ex thing is messing with my head..."

Brandon leans back, looking at you curiously. "I bet.” He nods. “Do you mind if  I ask you about your connection. With Rafe, I mean.” He clarifies. “Where’s your head at?"

You sigh, running a finger around the rim of your glass. "I won't lie and say I'm feeling one hundred percent relaxed right now. This entire Casa Amor thing makes me so...jittery and anxious. But... I want to try with Rafe. He’s the only one I want, and I'm just praying he’s holding it down over there."

"That's respectable," Brandon nods genuinely. "What about Theo, though? How are you feelin’ about that?"

"I mean, I can't deny that he's a pretty good-looking guy," you say honestly, shrugging one shoulder lazily. "But he seems kind of closed off and quiet. I've already spent weeks breaking down the walls of one closed-off guy so, even if I was open, I’m pretty damn sure I don't want to do that all over again. I don't plan to." You lean forward, tilting your head. "Can I ask you something?” You fire back. “What’s the story with you and Cleo? The whole ghosting situation?"

Brandon sighs, his eyes dropping to the table as he rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that,” he starts, nervous. “Look, I really have grown out of that kind of behavior. I feel really fuckin’ bad about how I did her. I'm glad I got the chance to pull her aside, and give her a real apology, though. I really did care for her, but at the time, I was just a selfish guy.” He admitted. “I cared about myself and my career more than I cared about her feelings, or anyone else's for that matter."

"And now?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

"I mean, I do still have that like lingering interest in Cleo," Brandon admits open-heartedly. "I’d be open to give things another shot if she’ll let me, but I doubt that. Besides... I do have a lot of interest in Rima. She’s just so fierce, beautiful, confident, and she does really draw the attention of every room she walks into.” He tells you.

You hum, accepting his words, storing it all in the back of your mind.

The rest of the date goes beautifully. It’s calm, friendly, and, by the end of it, you think that you've made a really great friend in Brandon.

WHEN you walk back into the villa, Brandon waves you off before heading over to the outdoor gym area where the guys are crowded, while you gather with the girls who are in the kitchen.

"You’re back!” Sarah gasps, jumping up at your presence. “How was it?" she asks eagerly.

"It went exactly how I thought it would," you smile, pouring yourself a glass of water. "I mean, Brandon is attractive, I can't deny that, but I just don't see him that way. He’s a friend, for sure." You turn directly to Cleo. "But we did talk about you.” You tell her, the girl making a face that told you to go on. “He said he feels really bad about how everything went down, that he was just really selfish at the time and that's all it was. He says he really cared about you and he's grateful you allowed him to apologize." Your eyes fleet between her and Rima, carefully deciding your next words. "...He also said he does have a lingering interest in you still and he'd be open to giving it another shot, but he doesn't think you are."

Cleo shrugs her shoulders, her expression softened but resolute as Rima remains relatively unbothered, yet still involved in the conversation. "Yeah, I figured.” She sighs lightly. “I’m open to making amends and being cool, but I am not giving him another chance in that way. I gotta stand on what I said—if you keep going back to the same tree in a forest, you’re lost."

"Mhm.” She hums, pointing at Cleo. “You ate that shit, by the way." she says, making you all breath laughs. "But that's reasonable." Rima assures, shrugging one shoulder.

"I still think you should go for him, though," Cleo tells her, casual. "I'm done with him but he does seem genuinely different, in a good way."

Rima scoffs, sipping her drink. "Oh, don't worry. I will take extra good care of him." She winks, making Cleo laugh.

OVER by the gym, Brandon sits on the grass, looking at Theodore and Mattheo.

"Don't worry," Brandon jokes, turning to Theodore with a grin. "I'm not trying to steal your girl." He then cuts his eyes to Mattheo, repeating the same tone. "Or yours."

Theodore scoffs, a smirk on his lips, but Mattheo ignores the comment, still reeling. "How was the date?" Theo asks, setting a dumbbell down.

"It was great," Brandon says honestly. "Great girl. But nothing more. She's beautiful, really amazing, but just not my kind of relationship girl. We're better off as friends, I can definitely see that." 

Brandon turns back to Theodore, clapping him on the shoulder. "And honestly, Theo? I think she might be little bit open.” He says honestly. “I think she’s just terrified of getting hurt, and nervous because she doesn’t know what could be happening with their guys. I think you just got to crack that door open a little bit, and you're in."

Mattheo stands in front of a bench, fingers gripping the edge of it as he leans over. He’s offended by Brandon's words, chest burning with fury, but he forces a tight, fake smile and nods.

“Glad you had a good time, man.” He interjects, walking off.

AS night falls, you and the girls are in the dressing room, discussing how everything is progressing as you get ready for bed.

"Can I be honest?" Kiara says, braiding her hair, a chorus of hums sounding out as replies. "I feel guilty because…I think I really like Thomas. I don't know if it's just because I miss JJ so much, and I see a lot of JJ in Thomas. Like, they have a very similar, funny, goofy sense of humor. But I don't want to lead him on, because he seems like a genuinely good guy." She shivers, letting out a groan. "And on top of that, I am not sharing a bed with Mattheo. He makes my skin crawl."

Sarah turns to Kie. "I'm glad you and Thomas are hitting it off. I can see you guys being a match.” She offers honestly. “But... I'm a little on edge about sleeping in the bed with him tonight. I don't think I'm going to." She shakes her heard. "I don't want to disrespect John B, and honestly, it’s just weird to share a bed with someone you’ve literally had sex with in the past."

Rima lets out a soft laugh from her vanity. "Well, count me out of the daybeds tonight.” She says. “I am actually really excited to share a bed with Brandon. That rodeo challenge still has me reeling,” she fawns, knees buckling as her eyes roll back, the rest of you laughing at her theatrics. “Lord have mercy. He looked so dreamy on that bull…I might not be able to keep my hands off him tonight. Sorry in advance, girls."

"I'd have to agree," Cleo tosses in. "I'm really feeling Justin. I can't wait to sleep like a baby on top of those abs tonight."

The dressing room erupts into a chorus of loud laughs at her words.

"And what about you?" Sarah asks, turning to you. “How’s Theo treating you?”

"He seems pretty sweet, I guess," you admit honestly, slipping into your sleep shorts. "He seems like a decent guy. But again... I just finally got things back to normal with Rafe before he left. I don’t want to fuck it up.” You stood firm. “So, I can withstand the mosquitoes on the daybeds if it means respecting Rafe at the end of the day. And I can only hope to God he’s doing the same."

WHEN it comes down to it, only Cleo and Rima head into the main bedroom, intending to sleep with their partners.

You, Sarah, and Kiara grab your pillows and head out onto the daybeds, settling onto three separate outdoor daybeds under the humid night air.

Just as you curl up under your blanket, adjusting your pillow, the glass sliding door to the deck softly opens.

You look up, finding Theodore. He’s wearing just a pair of grey cotton shorts and some kind of oversized band tee that looks like he’s had it for years. 

Sarah and Kiara sit up slightly, watching him as he approaches.

Theodore walks over to the edge of your daybed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Uh, hey," Theodore says softly, his voice quiet. "... I saw you guys coming out here, and...to be honest, I would feel a lot better if you came inside into the bedroom."

You pout and shake your head gently, pulling the blanket up to your chin. "Oh," your voice falls. "I appreciate it, but I just really don't want to do anything that I wouldn't want Rafe doing."

Theodore smiles softly, nodding his head. "I understand that, and I respect it completely.” He reassures, hands up in surrender. “But... I just can't stomach the thought of you sleeping out here on a hard cushion, getting bit up by all these mosquitoes and being uncomfortable, while I am sound asleep in a giant, comfortable bed inside that really, technically, belongs to you."

Theodore steps closer. "Look, we can share the bed inside. I promise you, I will keep space between us, we can even put a row of pillows right down the middle of the mattress. Or... if you want, I can just give you the indoor bed completely, and I come out here and sleep on the daybed."

Your heart melts just a little bit at the kindness of his gesture. You smile warmly at him, sitting up. "Theo... thank you so much for the offer. Honestly. That is very sweet of you. But honestly, if I take the indoor bed, that just leaves you out here sleeping next to Kiara and Sarah, and I’d honestly just rather stick out here with my girls for tonight."

You stand up for a brief second, stepping close to him, and wrap your arms around his neck for a brief hug. "Thank you for being so sweet, though." You mumble into his shoulder.

Theodore hugs you back gently, nodding against your hair. "Of course. Sleep well."

He pulls away, giving a polite nod to Sarah and Kiara before heading back inside.

You climb back into your daybed, curling up on your side. Next to you, Sarah and Kiara smile warmly.

"He’s a good guy," Sarah whispers, giving you a look.

"Yeah," you mutter, closing your eyes as the sound of the ocean waves echoes. "He is."

And as you drift off to sleep, the night air more biting than you remember without Rafe’s large, warm presence, your last thought drifts right back to him. 

Please be sleeping alone, Rafe, you plead to whoever might be listening. 

Please.

next chapter>

At her dismissal, you wandered down the steps toward the edge of the forest. That was where Sarah Cameron found you. She was younger, a bright-eyed burst of energy in a pink sundress, dragging a boy by his wrist.

"Look, Rafe! I told you there were other kids. Hi!” Sarah announced, her voice high as she stopped in front of you, your brothers running off further. She looked between you and her brother, her nose crinkling as you both stood in silence. "You guys are boring. I'm going to feed the ducks." She rolled her eyes, skipping off. Sarah dashed away, leaving the two of you standing under the shade of a massive live oak.

Rafe was eight, adorned in khaki shorts and a polo shirt that already had a faint grass stain near the hem. He looked at you, his blue eyes squinting against the sun with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked just as stiff, just as bored, and just as suffocated as you felt.

"Your mom looks mean," Rafe said plainly, pointing to the woman staring at you from afar..

You blinked, shocked by the blunt honesty of it, looking carefully over your shoulder at her before looking back at Rafe. "She's just... serious." You muttered.

"My dad is too," Rafe muttered, shrugging and kicking at a rock in the dirt. "He keeps telling me I have to stand straight because people are watching. I hate it."

"I hate it too," you whispered. “But my mom says ‘hate is a strong word’.”

A slow smile broke across Rafe’s face, clearing away the tense look he had been wearing all afternoon. It was a sweet smile, completely devoid of the sharp edges that would define him later in life. "Want to go look at crabs? There’s a whole bunch of them by the dock.” He invited. “If we're quiet, they don't hide."

You looked back at the veranda. Your parents were still nodding along to Ward Cameron's booming laughter. They wouldn't notice your absence for hours.

"...Okay," you said, nodding.

That afternoon was the foundation being laid. While your parents signed documents, the two of you sat on the edge of a weathered wooden dock, your legs dangling over the water, discussing the annoyingness of the adult world. 

You discovered you were born in the same hospital, raised on the same private streets, and held to the exact same impossible standards for children. You were cut from the identical piece of luxury cloth, and you both already knew the fabric was itching you alive.

From that day forward, you were inseparable.

Throughout elementary school, Rafe was your constant. He was a sweet, hyper-attentive boy whose devotion to you was uncomplicated. At the private academy you both attended, he would sprint across the courtyard the moment the lunch bell rang, just to ensure he secured the seat directly across from you.

"I brought you those fruit snacks you like," he’d say, tossing three plastic pouches onto your tray. He knew your mother had started monitoring your ‘calorie intake’ under the guise of "healthy habits," restricting you from candy and sweets, so he took it upon himself to ensure you never went unsatisfied.

When the older kids tried to crowd you at the swings, Rafe would step in, his chest puffed out, his small fists clenched at his sides until they backed down. He shared his toys without a second thought—his limited-edition comic books, his favorite skateboard, his video games. If you expressed even a passing interest in something he owned, it was yours.

Every single afternoon, when the yellow school bus hissed to a stop on Figure Eight, Rafe would sling his backpack over one shoulder, get off, and wait for you. Your house was three blocks past his, down the oak-lined avenue. He would walk you all the way to your front steps, his feet dragging as the distance closed.

"I’ll see you tomorrow" he’d smile, standing on the bottom step, looking up at you with an earnestness that made little you smile.

THE downfall didn't happen gradually. No. It happened violently. 

You were ten years old, finishing up fifth grade when everything fell.

It began on a random Tuesday. Rafe hadn’t shown up at the bus stop that morning, and when you arrived at lunch that afternoon, he was sitting at a table alone, his food untouched and his face pale.

You sat beside him, your shoulder brushing his. "Rafe? What's wrong?"

He didn't look at you, his eyes fixed on the wood of the table. "I think…my mom left."

The words were tiny, barely carrying across the noisy cafeteria.

"What do you mean?" you asked.

“I don’t know," Rafe whispered, his voice cracking, though he fought with everything he had to keep from crying. "Her and my dad got into this big fight last night. I heard things breaking and I heard the front door slams, so I looked out of my window. I saw her ger in her car, and…she drove away.” He told you, voice small. “...It’s been three days. My dad told us she’s not coming back and we aren't allowed to ask about her anymore."

You reached out, wrapping your small fingers around his wrist. His skin was freezing despite the indoor heat. You didn't know what to say, because in Kook world, mothers didn't leave. Mothers stayed and maintained appearances, no matter how rotten the house was on the inside. 

And three long weeks later, tragedy snuck it’s way into your own home.

Your father—the only person in your house who ever truly looked at you with kindness, the man who would secretly buy you ice cream when your mother wasn't looking—suffered a heart attack in his office. There was no warning. One minute he was checking your homework, and the next, your mother was standing in the foyer, informing you and your brothers that your father was gone.

The news fractured the very ground beneath your feet, replaced by an adult grief that your ten-year-old mind couldn’t comprehend.

Almost immediately, the ways you chose to survive your individual grief diverged.

Rafe exploded outward. The sweet boy who shared his lunch dissolved into an angry boy. He began picking fights at school, disobeying his teachers. If a boy looked at him too long in the hallway, Rafe’s fists were flying. He became a regular visitor in the principal’s office, his knuckles constantly skinned and bleeding. The teachers began to look at him with a mixture of fear and pity, whispering about him while he was less than a foot away.

You, conversely, imploded—retreating into a deep silence. The world lost its color. You stopped raising your hand in class—your grades, which had always been immaculate, plummeted into a sea of red ink. You stopped speaking to your friends, choosing instead to spend recess leaning against the chain-link fence, staring blankly at the horizon. And stopped smiling entirely. 

Yet, amidst the chaos, your friendship held, even growing tighter. 

Whenever Rafe got into a fight, you were the one who walked him to the nurse’s office.

"You can't keep getting in trouble," you whispered one afternoon, walking him back to class. "I heard Ms.Barkley say that they might have to expel you…"

"Let them," he snarled, his chest heaving with a scowl on his small face. "I don't care. My dad doesn't care…” He trailed off, huffing. “Nobody does."

"I do," you said softly, peering at the boy. That’s when Rafe’s breathing hitched, his face softening. He looked at you, the anger draining from his face for a split second. 

"I know.” He nodded, looking away. “You're the only one."

From that point on, you became his ultimate personal voucher. When the principal called your mother because you had lied to cover for Rafe—claiming the other boy had started the fight, swearing up and down that Rafe had only been protecting himself—you took the scolding without flinching. Prepared to do it all again.

And Rafe was there for you in return, unconditionally. When everything became too loud, when your brothers were screaming at home and your mother’s criticisms were suffocating you, Rafe was there when you came to his door to “play”. 

He would sit with you in absolute quiet, sometimes for hours, just letting his presence act as a buffer between you and the rest of the world. He tried, in his own clumsy ways, to bring you back. He would bring you weird shells he found on the beach, or tell you stupid jokes he’d heard from the older kids, just trying to catch a glimpse of the girl he met under that oak tree.

But the true depth of your parents' cruelty became clear on the day of your father’s funeral.

The wake was held at the country club—the very place you had met. The room was heavy with the scent of floral arrangements and perfume. You were in a black velvet dress that felt like a straightjacket, standing beside your mother as she received condolences with an unbothered dignity that made you sick to your stomach.

Unable to breathe, you slipped away under the guise of needing to use the restroom, hiding behind the velvet drapes of the library corridor.

A few feet away, hidden by the height of a massive marble pillar, Rafe was standing. He had followed you, as he always did, but he had stopped because he heard voices approaching from the adjoining lounge.

It was your mother and Ward, the clink of ice against crystal punctuating their conversation.

"She’s taking this all entirely too hard," your mother’s voice rang out, sharp and absent of any warmth. "I had to take her to a child psychologist last week. The woman had the nerve to call it 'Prolonged Grief Disorder.'” She scoffed. “She’s just being dramatic. You know, her brothers lost their father too, and look at them—they’re doing perfectly fine. They’re back to their sports, their grades are alright. But she just sits there, moping.” She rolled her eyes, sipping from her glass. “I won't have a child of mine acting like a martyr for the rest of her life."

Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking from across the hall.

Ward sighed. "It’s the same with Rafe. Ever since his mother left, the boy has been unbearable.” Ward sneered. “He’s doing it for attention, of course. I tell him every day—'look at your sisters'. Sarah and Wheezie have stopped asking questions. They’ve moved on. They understand. But Rafe…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m giving him one more chance before I start taking things away. Or sending him away."

Behind the curtain, your breath hitched and you looked at Rafe—he was staring at the floor, his hands curled into fists by his side. 

BY the time you entered middle school, the cracks in your foundations had widened.

Rafe was twelve, nearly thirteen, and he was a persistent disciplinary problem. He spent more time suspended than he did in the classroom and his anger had grown sharper, fueled by his father's growing disappointment in him. 

You, on the other hand, had become entirely invisible. You were a ghost in the hallways—silent, fleeting, and entirely checked out. You didn't study anymore, you didn't do homework, you didn’t participate in class. You sat at the back, staring out the window, waiting for the bell to ring.

It was a Tuesday evening in late spring when you realized you were more alike than either of you cared to notice.

It had to be nearly ten o'clock at night and Rafe had just ended a screaming match with Ward, his father calling him a failure, a burden, because he wasn’t fond of his new stepmother, Rose. The words had burned like acid to his heart, Rafe slamming the front door of Tannyhill and marching down the dark streets of Figure Eight. He was fuming with rage, kicking violently at loose gravel, sending neighbors’ plastic recycling bins crashing into the gutters—hoodie pulled up with his hands in his pockets.

But as he rounded the corner onto your street, he stopped.

In the dim glow of the porch lights on your patio step was a small figure, curled up. You were sitting with your knees tucked into your chest, your head resting on your arms, your shoulders shaking with violent sobs.

Rafe’s anger evaporated instantly and he rushed to sit on the pavement beside you, his hand coming to rest on your trembling back.

"Hey," he said, his voice unusually soft. "What happened?"

You lifted your head. In the harsh fluorescent light, Rafe felt his blood run cold. Your left cheek was clearly swollen, a distinct handprint rising against your skin. Your eyes were bloodshot, your lips trembling.

"My report card came in the mail today," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I... I failed three classes."

"Did she…hit you?" Rafe’s voice dropped into a whisper.

You didn’t offer a clear answer, looking down between the two of you instead. "...She said... she said she's going to have to write a check to the school board just so they don't hold me back a grade. She called me a disappointment, said my father would be ashamed.” You explained, holding back tears. “She told me to get out of her sight."

Rafe stood up so fast his sneakers squeaked against the asphalt. He looked toward your house, his eyes wild. "She can’t—"

"Don't," you cried, grabbing the hem of his oversized hoodie, pulling him back down. "Please. Just... don't. You'll just make it worse. For both of us."

He looked down at you, his chest heaving. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing just below the red mark on your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender for a boy who spent his days breaking things.

"Fuck adults," Rafe said, the words heavy with absolute conviction. It was the first time you’d ever heard him swear. "They suck."

"They do," you agreed, wiping your eyes, a light laugh escaping you.

Rafe looked around the quiet neighborhood, the residents of Figure Eight were sleeping peacefully. And a reckless grin broke across his face.

"Come on," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Let's go make them miserable."

“Rafe, what—”

“They make us mad all the time. We can make them mad, too,” He looked at you. “Are you in or out?”

And you stared at him for a long while before following behind the Cameron boy.

That night, for hours, you and Rafe ran wild across the island. You didn't do anything truly criminal, but you were definitely in for it if either of your parents found out. You ran through the private golf course, tearing up the pristine sand traps with your bare feet. Rafe found a crate of expired fireworks behind a maintenance shed, and you spent an hour lighting firecrackers and throwing them into the empty swimming pools of the residents, laughing hysterically at the booming echoes as you ran off.

You climbed to the roof of the country club's boat house, stealing a cooler full of sodas and throwing the empty aluminum cans at the yachts docked in the slips.

For the first time in a long time, the devastating fog in your chest cleared away. 

You caught Rafe's eye as you both sprinted away from a private security patrol car, ducking behind the dunes, a sound escaping your throat—it was a laugh. A real, breathless, genuine laugh.

Rafe froze, staring at you under the moonlight. The security car's headlights swept over the dunes, illuminating the lines of his face—he looked awestruck.

"What?" you whispered, pressing your back against the sand to stay hidden.

"...You smiled," Rafe said, his voice dropping. "You laughed. I haven't seen you do that since fifth grade."

The weight of his words settled over you, sweet and somehow still deeply painful. You looked at him—this boy who was constantly angry, yet always safe for you—and threw your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder.

"...You're my best friend, Rafe," you whispered. "You're like... me, but in boy form."

Rafe’s arms hesitated before they tightened around your waist, holding you so close it nearly bruised your ribs. 

HIGH School was harder.

When you turned fourteen, just weeks before the start of your freshman year, your mother, realizing your performance had slipped for the last time, dragged you to an upscale, discreet clinic in Charleston.

The diagnosis was unsurprising—severe clinical depression.

The doctor had handed your mother a pamphlet and a prescription as you left. And your mother had waited until you were in the parking lot before tearing the pamphlet into pieces and dropping the prescription slip into a trash can.

"You are not going to be dependent on medication because you refuse to control your emotions," she had said, her voice icy as she started the car. "You are fine. And you have responsibilities.” She spat. “Your brothers are utterly immature, they have no sense of…anything. And it’s up to you to represent this household."

The weight of the family name was officially transferred to your shoulders by the time you hit fifteen. While your brothers were allowed to be absent-minded teenage boys, you were expected to be the perfect daughter—the pristine hostess, the straight-A student, the family ornament at every event.

Meanwhile, Rafe was facing his own version of hell. As the oldest Cameron kid and only son, Ward had begun bringing him into the business meetings, demanding he understand the world of business. But Rafe didn't have the stomach for it, and his failures were met with scolding from Ward.

Throughout your freshman year, you watched each other die in slow motion.

He would sit with you on the beach after school, trying to talk about his day, and you would simply... drift. You would zone out in the middle of his sentences, your eyes locking onto a piece of driftwood or a wave breaking on the shore. He would catch you staring into nothingness for twenty, thirty minutes at a time, your face completely blank, your hands resting limp in your lap.

He’d take you to your favorite diner and you wouldn’t even touch the food. He’d drive you down to The Point to watch the sunset and you wouldn’t look up from your lap. Nothing made you happy.

In a desperate attempt to do something other than watch you become a fraction of who you were, Rafe did the one thing he swore he’d never do—he went to an adult.

He showed up at your house on a Saturday afternoon when he knew your mother was home. He stood in your living room, his voice cracking as he confronted her.

"Something is wrong with her," Rafe said, his tone desperate. "She isn't eating, it’s like doesn't hear me when I talk to her. She just stares at the wall. I think…she needs help.” He voiced. “Please,"

Your mother had looked at him with a blank expression. "Rafe, I think you forget that I know you.” She started. “You are a deeply troubled boy who has no right to lecture me on how to care for my daughter. She is perfectly fine, simply focused on her studies.” She lied, shrugging. “Now, I think it may be time for you to go…” She urged. “Before I call your father."

His efforts blew up in his face almost immediately. That evening, Ward cornered Rafe in the kitchen. Your mother had called him regardless, furious, claiming Rafe was trying to "stir up issues" around your family’s private life. Ward had cut deep that night, screaming at him for embarrassing the Cameron name.

But two weeks later, the final thread snapped.

It was a warm Friday night, the end of the year around the corner. The Kook kids were throwing a house party and Rafe was already there, a red solo cup clutched in his hand, his head buzzing from the cheap beer. 

He’d spoken to you earlier, managing to get you to agree to show up. You told him you’d catch a ride with one of your girl friends. But when everyone started to trickle in and no sign of you, he pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over your contact name.

Rafe where are you at?

Ten minutes passed. No response. You always responded to Rafe within seconds.

Rafe hey. you there? 

You i dont think im coming rafe. 

Rafe come onnn  it sucks without you here :(  Is your mom home? i can sneak you out

 You no. im just tired.  im really tired rafe. 

Rafe youre always tired lately.  i’m omw to get you. 

You don’t rafe im sorry.

And that was the last text.

Rafe stared at the words 'im sorry.' A sudden surge of fear and adrenaline slamming into his chest. It wasn't a standard apology, and even if it was—it was so out of place, unwarranted. You hadn’t done anything. But then he remembered, remembered you opening up about the diagnosis, about your mom ripping up the help you needed and trashing it.

He was right. About you needing help, he was right. And if he was right, then he was late.

"Whoa, Rafe, where you goin’ man?" Topper called out as Rafe dropped his beer cup onto the dirt and sprinted toward his truck.

He didn't answer. He threw his truck into reverse, the tires screeching against the gravel as he sped toward your house. 

He ran every single stoplight on the island, his heart hammering against his ribs while he cursed to himself, hitting turns so fast that his truck held itself up on two wheels.

When he pulled into your driveway, the house was completely dark and he didn’t even bother to cut his car off. Rafe leapt out of the truck, taking the porch steps three at a time, rattling the front doorknob—It was unlocked. 

He threw the door open, slamming it against the wall as he called your name.

"Hello?!" he yelled into the silent house. "Where are you?"

No answer. The silence was deafening as Rafe sprinted up the staircase, his feet heavy against the hardwood. 

He checked your bedroom. Empty, but the bed was neatly made, too perfect. 

He checked the other rooms. Nothing.

Then, he saw the faint sliver of light bleeding out from beneath your bathroom door when he checked your room one more time.

He called your name, cursing and throwing himself against the door, rattling the handle. 

It was locked. 

He pressed his ear to the wood. Inside, he could hear it—a ragged, shallow sound. You were hyperventilating, your breath coming out in tiny, desperate gasps.

"Open the fucking door!" Rafe screamed, banging his fist against the wood. "It's me! Can you hear me?! Unlock the damn door!"

Still silence from the other side, save for the desperate gasping for air. He could hear you panicking, your body shifting.

"Fuck—get away from the door!" Rafe roared, his voice breaking into a terrified sob.

He backed up two steps, throwing his shoulder into the heavy wood paneling. The wood groaned but didn't give. He cursed, his vision blurring with tears. He backed up further, raising his leg, and kicked the lock with everything he had.

The door frame splintered with a deafening crack as the door flew inward., hanging from a singular hinge

Rafe stumbled into the room, and the image before him burned itself into the framework of his brain for the rest of his life.

You were curled on the cold marble tile beside the bathtub, your knees tucked to your chest. Your face flushed with a thick sheen of sweat coating it, your eyes wide and glassy, fixed on the ceiling. Next to your limp left hand lay a small, orange plastic bottle—completely empty. 

"No, no, no," Rafe chanted, dropping to his knees, his hands trembling violently as he grabbed your shoulders. "What did you do? What did you take?” He shook you, pulling you into him. “Shit, look at me, hey, look at me!" He panicked. “Why did you do that, huh, why would you do that?!” He cried, chest shaking as he watched you fall out of consciousness.

Your eyes rolled toward him, struggling to focus on his face as your lips turned blue.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, a tiny, fractured sound—sounding scared and genuinely sorry. "Rafe... I'm... I just... I didn't want to do it anymore."

"No, don't say that shit, don't you dare say that!" he screamed, his tears spilling over, hot and fast onto your cheeks. He reached for his phone, his fingers slick with sweat as he dialed 911. "I need help!” He sobbed as he read them your address. “Hurry, please, she's—"

Before he could finish the sentence, your body went entirely rigid. Your eyes locked, rolling back into your head as a violent seizure took hold of you.

Rafe dropped the phone, sobbing your name,cradling you and trying to keep your head from cracking against the marble tile. He held you, his own body shaking.

"Don't do this," he sobbed into your neck as the distant sirens began to wail across the water. "I need you. Why didn’t you just tell me you needed me?"

THE paramedics carried you away on a stretcher, a white sheet covering your trembling form with a mask over your face. Rafe had ridden in the back of the ambulance, his fingers locked around your limp hand, refusing to let go until the doctors at the hospital forcibly pushed him out of the trauma bay.

An hour later, your mother, brothers, and Ward arrived.

There were no tears from your mother. She looked panicked, afraid, but only for a moment. And mostly for herself. There was a hushed, frantic conversation with the attending physician and two local police officers in the corner of the waiting room. Words like 'accidental’ were thrown around, accompanied by the subtle implication of a substantial donation to the hospital. 

The narrative was being rewritten in real-time, the truth being buried before your stomach was even fully pumped.

Your mother spoke with Ward before they both walked over to where Rafe sat on the chairs lining the walls, his clothes stained with your sweat and vomit from the bathroom floor.

"Thank you for…finding her, Rafe," she said, her voice entirely flat. "But the doctors said that she is stable. So, it’s probably best if you go and get some rest, now.” But it wasn’t a suggestion. “I can handle it from here."

Rafe stood up, his eyes bloodshot and his jaw set. "I'm not leaving."

"Yes, you are," Ward’s voice boomed from beside him, his father’s heavy hand clutching Rafe’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the muscle with a certain force. Ward looked at your mother, giving her a tight, understanding nod. "We’ll be leaving. Give her our best.” He offered, patting Rafe on the shoulder. “Come on, Rafe."

Ward dragged him out to the parking lot, even when Rafe tried to protest, to scream, but Ward threw him against the side of the truck, his face inches from Rafe’s.

"Son, listen to me," Ward hissed, his voice low and lethal. "You will never speak of what happened tonight. To anyone.” His father clarified. “Not to your sisters, not to your friends, not to her when she wakes up. If this gets out, it will ruin her family's reputation, and it will ruin ours by association. Okay?” He emphasized, voice rising as Rafe opened his mouth to speak before being cut off. “It never. Happened. Do you understand me? It was an accident."

And Rafe swallowed, eyes tracking his father as he backed away, rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

But Rafe didn't anticipate not seeing you for the rest of the summer.

Your mother moved you to a private inpatient facility in the mountains of North Carolina under the guise of a "summer camp". Rafe spent those three months trapped in the torture chamber of his own mind. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the sound of the bathroom door splintering. 

Every time he looked at his hands, he felt your body seizing beneath him.

To cope with it all—his dad’s glare, his sisters questions, classmates wondering where you were, to drown out the absolute terror of not knowing if you were truly okay—Rafe turned to the only things that offered him comfort. 

He started going out every single night, partying, drinking until his vision went black, pouring alcohol down his throat like water just to stop the shaking in his fingers and the feeling like the world was ending. 

You watched it all from a distance, unable to stop him this time. When you were finally allowed to have your phone back in August, you scrolled through his stories and his friends' stories in the dark of your bedroom, your chest tightening. 

He looked different. Unhinged.

THE first day of sophomore year was a hot morning. You walked through the courtyard of the academy, wearing a pristine, fitted, high-collared sundress when Rafe intercepted you by the lockers. He looked awful—there were dark circles under his eyes and he smelled faintly of smoke and expensive cologne. But the moment he saw you, a light found his eyes.

"Y-you're back," he said, stepping into your personal space, his hands hovering near your arms as if he wanted to touch you but was terrified you’d break. "You didn't call me." He frowned. "The whole summer. I called your mom like fifty times, but she told my dad and.... I didn't know if—"

"Rafe," you whispered, looking around frantically. Several girls were watching you from down the hall, whispering behind their hands. "Please. Drop it."

"...Drop it?" Rafe’s voice rose, before he looked around, lowering it. "Are you serious? You almost —"

"I said drop it." you snapped, your voice cracking with an overwhelmed panic. "Just... stop. Seriously."

Rafe flinched as if you’d struck him. The hurt in his eyes was agonizing to look at as he swallowed hard, his hands dropping back to his sides. "Just... tell me you're okay. Alright, just tell me that."

You looked at him, forcing your face into that flat expression that made you look too much like your mother. "I'm fine, Rafe. I'm…medicated now.” You said, shame creeping onto your face. “Everything is taken care of."

You nodded before you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the crowded hallway.

But from that moment on, the dynamic of your friendship shifted into something deeply complicated and dangerously blurred. Rafe was always a step behind you, watching your every move. If you talked to another guy, Rafe was there, staring the guy down until he left. If you sat alone for too long, Rafe would appear, sliding into the seat beside you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of the vacancy that had preceded that one night.

But while he was trying to watch you, his own life was descending into chaos. The pressure from his father had amplified astronomically. Ward was constantly comparing him to other kids his age, demanding he step up. 

And to survive it all, Rafe graduated from beer to hard liquor, and eventually, to prescription pills and whatever else he could buy from the dealers on the Cut.

You noticed. Of course you noticed. 

You’d catch him in the parking lot before school, his pupils dilated, his hands twitching against the steering wheel.

"You need to… slow down, Rafe," you told him one afternoon as you both sat in his truck. "You're drinking like a fucking sailor. And everyone’s talking about it..."

Rafe laughed, a bitter sound that made your chest ache. "Everyone drinks.” He muttered. “Topper drinks, Kelce drinks. You drink even though you’re not supposed to…” He trailed off, shooting you a look. The reminder of the bathroom floor hung between you like a knife. You dropped your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “It’s just alcohol. I'm fine."

"It's not just alcohol," you said, your eyes dropping, not elaborating any further.

"You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about" he retorted, his eyes flashing with a sudden anger. "And you don't get to lecture me..."

IT all boiled over during the winter of your junior year.

You rarely went to parties anymore. Your mother preferred you to attend mixers and volunteer events. But on a Friday night in January, your phone wouldn't stop buzzing. 

Group chats were lighting up with an address on the north end—a beachfront property under construction. You ignored them, until Kelce, one of Rafe’s friends, had sent you a direct message on snap.

Kelce Hey, u might want to come get Rafe.  He’s losing his mind. Thought u were the best person to hit up.

Needing to escape the suffocation of your own house, you slipped on a thick sweater that probably belonged to Rafe, took your car keys, and drove towards him.

The house was a half-finished mansion crawling with hundreds of drunk teenagers. The bass from the speakers was vibrating through the floors as you pushed through the crowd of sweaty kids, your eyes scanning the rooms until you found him.

Rafe was leaning over a glass-topped coffee table, a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill pressed to his nose, as a thick, white line of cocaine vanished up it. You watched as he straightened up, his jaw twitching, his eyes completely bloodshot.

He caught your figure through the crowd of people, his vision zeroing in on you and the look of disapproval on your face. He froze, the rolled bill dropping from his fingers. He looked caught, a sudden flash of panic crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a smug, intoxicated grin.

"Hey," he slurred, getting up and dragging himself over to you. "What’re you doing here? You don't do parties."

You didn't say a word, the reality of how far he had fallen slammed into you. And you could only wonder if it had anything to do with you. You stepped forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt, and dragging him forcefully out of the room. He was high enough that he let you pull him, stumbling down the unfinished staircase and out onto the dark, chilly beach, away from the noise.

The moment the cold sea air hit your face, you let him go, turning on him with a fury you hadn't felt in years.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you screamed, your voice tearing through the sound of the crashing waves. "Coke, Rafe? Really? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

Rafe laughed, a loud, jarring sound that made your jaw clench. He began pacing the sand, his arms swinging wildly. "Oh, now you care?”

“I always cared—”

“I'm having fun! Everyone does it!"

"No, they don't!" you shrieked, tears of frustration stinging your eyes. "It’s like you’re trying to ruin yourself and I’m sick of being the one to try and help—"

Rafe stopped pacing. He stepped into your space, his face contorting into an expression of unadulterated malice. The coke was burning through his veins, stripping away whatever filters he had left.

"You're sick of me? I’m trying to ruin myself?" he roared, his chest inches from yours. "That's funny…That's really fucking funny coming from you, because finding my best friend on her bathroom floor then not hearing from her for a whole fucking summer will do that! Forgive me for hangin’ out with people that are less fucked up than me and you!"

The words slammed into your chest like a physical blow. It was the unspoken rule. And he had thrown it in your face.

And before you could even think, your hand flew out, the sound of your palm cracking across Rafe’s cheek echoing over the empty beach. The force of the slap turned his head to the side.

The silence that followed was absolute. Rafe didn't move, his cheek turning a violent shade of crimson in the moonlight. He looked down at you, the wild look in his eyes dying out, replaced by a devastating horror at what he had just said.

"So, it’s my fault?" you whispered, your voice shaking so violently you could barely form the words, though your face was still contorted with anger as your eyes welled with tears.

“No.” Rafe's face softened, his hands reaching out for you. “You know I didn’t—”

“Get one of your ‘less fucked up’ friends to take care of you then, asshole,” You spat, voice shaking as you turned and walked toward your car, your heart shattering into a thousand pieces as you hugged yourself.

"Hey! Wait, please!" Rafe’s voice called out behind you, but his shoes slipped in the sand, and he couldn't catch up before you got into your car and threw it into drive, speeding away.

TWO hours later, you were sitting in your bedroom, staring blankly at the ceiling, as music played softly, replaying the argument over and over until a faint scraping sound against your window made you tense.

You stood up, knowing exactly who it was as you pulled back the curtain. 

Rafe was standing on the roof, his clothes soaking wet from the midnight rain, his hands gripping the window frame. His face was soft, entirely sobered up by the cold and the reality of what he’d said.

You unlocked the window, pushing it up an inch. "Go away, Rafe.”

"Let me in," he pleaded, his teeth chattering. "Just let me talk to you. C’mon, I'm freezing."

"No," you said, your voice cold. "You threw that shit in my face and basically blamed me for your drugs problems, hey—"

Rafe shoved the window up the rest of the way and scrambled into your room, bringing the cold, wet scent of the rain with him. You backed away, sighing, but he was faster. He caught your wrists, his grip tight, backing you up until your spine hit the bedroom wall.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he whispered frantically, his face inches from yours. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling against yours as you turned your head to the side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. The... it just makes my brain go crazy.” He explained.

“Yeah, cocaine will do that to you,” You sassed, narrowing your eyes at the boy.

He just nodded, accepting the blow. “But I can’t pretend that I'm not scared for you, all the time. I'm scared I'm going to lose you again." Rafe told you, eyes locked on your face. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but that shit was scary for me, too. I didn’t know what to do—your mom wouldn’t let me talk to, my dad wouldn’t tell me anything. I…can’t lose you. And I've already come so close once...”

"...You're losing yourself, Rafe," you choked out, looking up into his blue eyes. “And, clearly, you blame me for that—”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“You had to.” You corrected. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said it…”

The proximity between you was close to none and you could feel the heat radiating from his skin despite the cold wafting in from the open window. You could smell the faint tang of liquor and the distinct scent of him. 

“...It’s not your fault. Okay, I don't blame you,” Rafe reiterated. “It’s my fault for not knowing what to do with myself without you.”

For a second, the lines that had blurred over the years became completely transparent, hanging in the quiet space between your lips.

"Promise me," you whispered, your hand coming up to rest against his wet jacket as you finally looked at him. "Promise me you'll stop the coke. At least. Please."

Rafe stared down at you, his eyes flickering down to your lips. He wanted to promise. He wanted to be the boy who could save you again. But he stood there, silent, just breathing you in, his forehead coming to rest against yours in a silent surrender.

The moment violently broken by the loud buzz of his phone.

Rafe flinched, pulling back just an inch to pull the device from his pocket. The screen illuminated his face, displaying Ward’s name. He answered it, his voice dropping into a tense register. You could tell by his face that the conversation was far from casual or pleasant. 

Ward’s voice was loud enough that you could hear the distortion through the speaker. "It's past midnight…Get your ass home. Now." And then the line went dead.

There was a banquet tomorrow and Ward was probably on Rafe’s ass as much as your mother was on yours.

Rafe closed his eyes, a defeated sigh escaping his lips as he lowered the phone. He looked back at you, the tension turning bitter. He moved toward the window, moving to climb back out until your voice traveled across the room, calling his name.

"Try not to make a scene this time," you said softly, referring to his habit of getting into arguments with the older members at these functions.

Rafe paused on the window sill, a slow smirk returning to his face as he looked over his shoulder, his eyes glinting.

"Yeah, make sure you wear enough lipgloss to leave a mark on all the asses you'll be kissing tomorrow," he retorted, his voice dripping with that boyish sarcasm you missed.

You rolled your eyes, a small, involuntary smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Fuck you."

"In your dreams," he whispered, winking, and then he disappeared into the dark.

THE banquet was like every other mind-frying event. The country club ballroom was packed with Figure Eight’s wealthiest, all dressed in formal attire, smiling and pretending the world outside their island didn't exist.

Your mother had spent the entire morning criticizing your posture, ensuring your dress was flawless, reminding you that you were the face of the family today. You stood by her side for hours, nodding politely to associates, your smile plastered wide.

Across the room, Rafe looked nice in his tailored suit, but you had been watching him all night. Every twenty minutes, he would slip out to the terrace or the men’s lounge, returning with increasingly glassy eyes. 

He was sneaking drinks from a silver flask he’d hidden in his jacket, drowning out the feeling of Ward’s watchful eye. By nine, he was visibly swaying, his laughter a little too loud and Ward’s face was turning a dangerous shade of red. 

You knew what would happen if Rafe was caught drunk by his father in front of these people. Slipping away from your mother, you intercepted Ward just as he was marching toward Rafe.

"Mr. Cameron," you said, forcing your voice into its sweetest pitch, knowing the man had a sweet spot reserved for you—whether it was real or fake. "I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I’ve actually developed a terrible headache and Rafe offered to drive me home.” You lied, noticing the flare of the older Cameron’s nostrils. “Would it be alright if I stole him away for the evening? I’d hate to make a scene by fainting here."

Ward stopped, his eyes shifting from you to Rafe, who was leaning heavily against a cocktail table.

"...Of course, honey," Ward said, his face smoothing into a charismatic smile. "Take care of yourself.” He squeezed your arm, calling out to his son. “Rafe, get her car keys. Take her straight home." He ordered, fixing Rafe with a sharp, lingering glare.

Ten minutes later, you were in the driver’s seat of your car, the formal gown gathered around your legs, driving back toward Tannyhill while Rafe rode shotgun, the silence in the vehicle thick.

"Why can't you ever just survive the night?" you snapped, sighing as Rafe continued sipping from his flask before you snatched it from his hands and threw it out of the window, your hands returning to grip the steering wheel until your knuckles splintered. "One night, Rafe. Why do you always have to do this?"

“You sound just like him…” Rafe scoffed, leaning his head back against the leather seat, staring out the window at the passing streetlights. 

“Don’t ever,” You warned, shooting the boy a warning glance.

"I'm sorry I'm not a perfect little puppet like you.” He slurred. “It must be so nice, huh? Just putting on that fake little smile, talking to those old creeps like they actually give a shit about you."

"Or maybe I think that we both have enough problems that I don’t feel like creating more," you snapped, the frustration boiling over. “ I lied to Ward tonight to protect you, Rafe, like always—"

"I didn't ask for your protection!" he yelled, turning his torso toward you, his breath smelling heavily of bourbon. "I don't need you to save me!"

"Yeah, you kind of do!" you yelled back, your voice cracking as you pulled into the driveway of Tannyhill. The house was empty. "You're a mess—"

"So are you!" he fired back.

You slammed the truck into park, both of you jerking forward as you turned off the ignition. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of everything. You looked at him—his tie was loosened, his suit jacket wrinkled, his face beautiful.

You sighed, not wanting to argue, especially not when he was drunk. You composed yourself and kept your comments to yourself as you opened the driver’s side door.

"Come on," you whispered, the anger draining out of you, leaving only exhaustion. “I’m not arguing with you.”

You helped him out of the truck, his heavy arm draping over your shoulders for support. You guided him through the door of Tannyhill and up the stairs to his bedroom, the room you had spent half your childhood playing in.

You pushed him gently onto the mattress as he collapsed backward, groaning as he kicked his legs up.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you leaned over him, your fingers working efficiently to unbutton his stiff collar and pull the tie from his neck. You reached down, unlacing his formal shoes and sliding them off his feet, before pulling his heavy suit jacket off his shoulders.

Rafe watched you through sleepy, hooded eyes. “...’M sorry for yelling at you,” The alcohol had slowed his rage, leaving behind that flirtation that always hovered when you were alone.

“It’s fine, Rafe.”

He reached up, his fingers catching a loose strand of your hair, twisting it gently. "...You look really pretty in that dress," he murmured. "Even if it's for them. You're the prettiest girl on this stupid island. To me."

Your heart skipped a beat as you swallowed hard, your fingers freezing on his shirt cuff. "You're drunk, Rafe."

"I am," he whispered, a drunken, lopsided smile spreading across his lips as he tugged lightly on your hair, pulling your face a few inches closer to his. "But I'm not blind.” He defended. “Just stay here. Just for tonight."

It was the line you had been dancing around for years—the blurred boundary between best friends who saved each other's lives and two people who were destructively in love. But you looked at his glassy eyes, heard the faint slur in his voice, and you knew you couldn't cross it. 

Not like this. Not while he was using alcohol to escape the reality of who he was. To love him now would mean drowning with him. And you were already drowning all on your own.

You gently detached his fingers from your hair, placing his hand back on his chest.

"I can’t,” You forced out. “Goodnight, Rafe,"

He stared at you for a long moment, a flash of heartbreak crossing his features before his eyelids grew too heavy to hold open. Within minutes, his breathing evened out as he fell asleep.

You stood up, smoothing down your gown, taking a deep breath as you walked out of Tannyhill with a heavy, aching chest, driving yourself back home—ready to receive a mouthful from your mother the next morning for leaving.

THE next two years were a blur.

As junior and senior year passed, the mirrors of your lives grew increasingly warped. 

Rafe got worse. The cocaine became a regular habit, his debts to local dealers grew, and his outbursts at Tannyhill became almost daily. 

You got worse in the opposite direction. You became the absolute pinnacle of perfection. You won the academic awards, you chaired the charity galas, you became the perfect daughter your mother had always envisioned…at the cost of whoever you really were.

You hid your depression behind a wall of prescription pills and big events.

Rafe hid his troubles and flaws behind white lines and empty bottles. 

You screamed at each other on weekends— arguments where you tore each other’s choices to shreds—and then you would show up at each other’s windows on Sunday nights, because the rest of the world was a lie, and you were the only two people who knew the truth.

You both applied to the same university. It wasn't discussed. But it wasn’t accidental. Neither of you could survive where the other wasn't.

On the scorching hot morning of your high school graduation, the country club lawn was decorated with white tents and rows of folding chairs. The families of Kildare were gathered to celebrate the bright futures of their children.

You had just received your diploma, your mother nodding with a stiff approval from the front row and as the crowd dissolved, Rafe found you by the edge of the veranda you’d met near all those years ago. He was wearing his graduation cap crookedly, his gown open over his suit. He looked even older—the sharp lines of his jaw completely formed, shoulders broad, a map of muscles. But when he looked at you, the boy from fifth grade was still there, buried deep beneath.

"Well," he said, stepping into your space, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. "We're out."

"We're out," you agreed, the weight of the college years ahead pressing down on your chest as a professional photographer hired by the school approached, his camera raised. 

"Smile, kids!” He urged. “And congrats!"

Rafe’s arm slid around your waist, his grip tightening, pulling your side flush against his. You turned toward the lens, your posture straight, your face instantly smoothing into that perfect, practiced smile. Rafe leaned in, his jaw tightening as he forced his own confident smirk for the cameras.

The flash went off, capturing the two of you.

To anyone, you looked like the epitome of privilege and success. 

Nobody would ever know about the bathroom floor, the white lines, the bruises or the empty bottles. 

You stood side-by-side, your bodies locked together, completely unaware of how much more complicated your lives were bound to get.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.