sam

It was a one time moment of weakness. You were overworked, overhungry from your day. He was exhausted from the work he’d been doing before he took a lunch break. It wasn’t really either of your fault. It was an accident. Really.

But it was getting harder to believe that with every second spent staring in the mirror. Readjusting the straps of your dress. Fixing a curl on the left side of your face that just wouldn’t lay right. Using your pinky nail to fix the line of your lips for the fortieth time.

And as much as you wanted to believe it wasn’t, a sneaky sick part of you shoved deep down inside knew that it was.

You looked cute. Sweet. A pastel yellow dress clung to you in every place you wanted it to. It had smooth thick straps that flooded into a classy V neck line, hugging your ribs and falling into a loose a-line figure that cut off at your upper thigh. A safe bet.

After another half hour of panic sweating and recurling and reapplying and mental screaming, you were on the road gripping the steering wheel harder than what was considered normal.

The second you step out of your car, your fingers tighten around the strap of your purse absentmindedly. The familiar sounds of laughter and music spill from the backyard, mixing with the clinking of glasses and distant congratulations.

You smooth your dress one last time, at least you hope it’d be the last time, before taking a slow breath that does little to nothing to settle the overwhelming pressure in your chest and the heat on your cheeks.

Your eyes instinctively search for your parents first. Your mom is already wrapped in conversation with one of your aunts while your dad stands a few feet away, laughing with a group of neighbors.

No sign of Harry.

That realization loosens something inside you. It was an oddly peaceful thing. You hadn’t realized how tense your shoulders were until they finally dropped.

Maybe he was running late. Maybe he wasn’t coming at all. Maybe he was hidden somewhere where your eyes couldn’t quite reach yet.

Either way, his absence was enough for you to relax.

The next hour passes easier than you expected. Old family friends stop you every few minutes to ask what you’ve been up to, relatives pull you into conversations you haven’t had in years, little cousins are nagging at your dress in a desperate beg for attention.

And someone is always handing you another drink before you’d even finished the first. That was the real reason you loved graduation parties so much.

By the time you’ve accepted your third, the warmth in your cheeks has nothing to do with the stress and everything to do with the cool summer air. The knot in your stomach has unraveled into something softer, replaced with a genuine laughter and happiness you hadn’t expected to find today.

For a while, you almost forget why you’d spent the entire day in an embarrassing panic.

Almost.

By your third trip to the bathroom, because alcohol had always taken possession of your bladder, you catch your reflection in the mirror and take a minute to regroup. You touch up the corners of your lips, brush your fingers through your hair to tame the pieces that had started to fall loose, and pinch a little color back into your cheeks that didn’t really need the help.

And when you slip your phone back into your purse and pull the bathroom door open, the smile on your face disappears the moment you look up.

Harry.

Directly in front of you. Reaching for the knob of the door that you had just opened.

For a second, neither of you moves.

It’s almost unsettling how quickly the room seems to fade into the background. Conversations blur together into meaningless noise as your eyes point upwards to his own. The weeks that passed vanish in an instant, replaced by the same quiet tension that had formed between you two the day you stood at his front door.

He looks just as caught off guard.

Your heart stumbles and thuds sharp behind your ribs, but before either of you can think too hard about it, a small smile finds its way onto your face.

“Hi.”

It was familiar. The simple greeting. The cute smile that went along with it, teeth and all.

It was literally the only thing it took for you to take over his mind completely.

“Hi,” he responded, dimple deepening and eyes wandering.

You watched them dance over your skin in a shameless sort of manner. Over your jaw and down your neck, grazing softly over the smooth curve of your breasts showcased through the sweet v-line. You saw them land gently on the cinch of your waist before falling along the gentle flow of the bottom fabric, loose against your thighs and displaying the tanned legs beneath them.

And then he was back at your face. As if he wasn’t looking anywhere else at all.

“It’s nice to see you,” you start, blinking heavier than usual and smiling a bit too big for your own good.

He smiled for a moment in silence before responding in a smooth drag.

“You look nice,” he nods, “it’s really good to see you again.”

And suddenly, the hours of blow drying and changing outfits and mental torture all seemed to be worth it.

“Thank you,” you look down for just a moment, “you look great too.”

He really did. He wore a white button up, thin blue stripes lined across it and broken in half where his top buttons fell undone. All paired with a nice and loose pair of linen shorts which left absolutely fucking nothing to your imagination. Maybe he chose them on purpose. Maybe.

His hair was velvety rich. Thick and dark and matching the nicely groomed stubble that sculpted his face in all the right ways.

Then there was this silence.

Sort of comfortable. Mostly tense. His eyes were stuck on yours like there was a mutually agreed upon challenge in the air, competitive enough to let pressure build low in your stomach before you could think about it.

“I should…” He gestures vaguely toward the bathroom door behind him, the corners of his mouth lifting as if he’s reluctant to end the conversation before it’s really begun.

You nod, shifting your purse higher onto your shoulder. “Yeah. I should probably get back before my mom sends out a search party.”

He laughs softly, lowering his head for a second before looking back at you in a quiet peace.

“I’ll probably see you out there,” he says.

“I hope so.”

The words leave your mouth before you’ve had the chance to think them through. For the first time since you’d ran into eachother, Harry looks genuinely caught off guard. Like for some reason the three words were absolutely shocking to him.

It lasts only a second, but it’s enough for another smile to spread across his face.

“I hope so too.”

With that, he steps aside and reaches for the bathroom door, holding it open as you slip past him. You smile at him one last time before making your way back toward the backyard, pulse high and cheeks even hotter than they already were. You were sure he was able to notice the red fade across your skin.

And as you suck in a sharp breath and strut across the lawn, you tell yourself that’ll be the end of it.

It isn’t.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a series of conversations, laughter, and half finished drinks, but no matter who you’re speaking to or where you happen to be standing, you’re always absently aware of where Harry is.

Every so often your eyes drift in his direction without thinking, only to find he’s already looking at you. Sometimes one of you looks away first. Sometimes neither of you do until someone else says your name or pulls you back into a conversation.

It was a sick cycle, really.

It becomes a silent understanding neither of you acknowledges aloud. A glance across the patio while your dad is busy at the grill. A brief smile from opposite ends of the food table. The kind of eye contact that lasts just long enough to make your stomach tighten before you’re both forced to return your attention elsewhere.

As the afternoon fades into evening and the drinks continue to circulate, the careful distance you’d both managed to keep starts to feel thinner. Scarily thinner. Neither of you does anything you shouldn’t. You actually barely exchange a handful of words for the rest of the party.

Yet every accidental meeting of your eyes carries more weight than a conversation ever could, made all the more risky by the fact that no one else seems to notice.

You liked it that way. You both did.

You liked to watch as he tried to pretend he wasn’t addicted to looking at you. Like he was so shameful of his forbidden attraction towards such a sweet piece of forbidden fruit. Like every interaction you had with your dad brought him right back down to where he should stay—reality.

But you were milking it. Grinning harder than you should. Letting a hand rest on his shoulder every time you would pass by him gently. Offering to grab him a drink from the cooler just so you could snap down in half right in front of him.

There was no escaping you.

By the time the sun started to sink behind the trees, casting everything in warm gold, the celebration settled into its final hour. Relatives begin packing leftovers into containers, folding tables, and stacking chairs while guests slowly filter toward the driveway.

You fall into helping without being asked, collecting empty cups and gathering decorations from the lawn.

But your attention is scattered. The pleasant haze from the drinks leaves your thoughts slower than usual, and no matter how hard you try to focus on what you’re doing, your mind keeps wandering back to the brief conversation by the bathroom. More specifically to the internal goal that it wouldn’t be the last one you’d have before the night was over.

And right as the thought hits your mind for the millionth time—

“You’ve been busy.”

His voice comes through deep and smoothed, spooking you from behind as if he just heard your last thought out loud.

You glance down at the trash bag through a dazed mind. It suddenly feels like evidence. “I keep getting told I am, so I guess that’s a yes.”

He smiles softly, leaning a shoulder up against the side of the house and slipping both hands into the confines of his linen pockets. You were a mere couple inches apart, stood short in front of him as your hands fiddled with the plastic of the bag in an anxious habit.

His chest was exposed enough to get you uneasy. It’s like he knew it, too. The dark hairs that littered the skin screamed at you with every passing second, almost taunting your disgusting crush and the way it consumed you.

“You just take orders well then?” he asks.

You let out a quick laugh, desperately attempting to appear unphased by the question. A question your tipsy mind has convinced you to be double meaning-ed. “Not really. I think I just picked the wrong day to be polite.”

His eyebrows lift slightly at that, like he’s amused by the answer more than surprised. Or maybe disappointed at your lack of yes.

“Bad timing,” he agrees.

There’s a minute where neither of you move away from the conversation. Just noise around you. Chairs scraping, someone laughing too loud near the house. But right here, between you both, it stays steady.

An uncomfortable kind of steady that freaks you out because why the hell does this feel so steady?

He shifts his weight a little against the wall behind him, still facing you.

“So you’re always this helpful, or is this a special occasion thing?”

“I’d say special occasion,” you say, shrugging. “I don’t usually spend my weekends being assigned jobs.”

“Ah,” he says, completely even. Hands still tucked away in his pockets like if he let them loose, they’d land somewhere they shouldn’t.

You pause a second. “Mhm.”

“You seem like you’d be useful in general.”

It catches you off guard in a way that was more intense from everything said prior. Because…well…because how could it not?

You blink at him, then laugh a little, looking away for a second to help reset your face into something more normal.

“Useful,” you repeat. “Not sure if that’s a usual way to describe someone."

“It’s a compliment,” he says, watching you closely now.

You can feel your expression change before you even fully control it. You were nervous. Bad nervous. Like where your palms started sweating so aggressively that you were already going over scenarios on how to deny a hand shake in case that’s how he decided to leave the conversation.

He notices it. You can tell he does. Not in an obvious way. Nothing overbearing. Just the slight shift in his expression, like he’s clocked exactly what his words are doing.

And from the small grin on his face, deep and knowing, you know he’s intrigued by it. The nerves. Amused, even.

“You always do that?” he asks.

You look up at him with a tilt to your head.

“Do what?”

“Get all shy over nothing.”

That makes your head snap up slightly.

“I’m not—” you start, then stop because you realize how that sounds immediately. You were full of it.

He’s smiling now. Not teasing you too loudly. Just watching you, figuring you out.

“I’m not shy,” you correct, quieter this time.

“Mhm,” he says again, a smug smile smacked on his face like he doesn’t believe you but would rather save the argument for another time. But not never.

That alone makes your face heat a little more, a smile slipping through despite yourself.

“You’re smiling though,” he adds, eyes squinting and grin deepening impossibly more.

“I always smile,” you say quickly, shrugging with a half full trash bag that's slowly started to lose its importance.

“That’s not what I mean.”

There’s a pause. You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you shift the bag slightly again, even though you’ve already moved it three times in the last minute. He’s still leaning casually, but his attention hasn’t left you once.

And, again, steady in a way that just feels unfair.

“You live around here?” he asks again, like he’s casually circling back.

“Yeah,” you say. “Like ten minutes away.”

He nods, pressing his lips together and letting his head rest closer towards his shoulder.

“Good,” he says.

Your brow raises quickly. “Good?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, like he doesn’t see the issue. “Means I don’t have to travel too far to run into you again.”

You open your mouth, then close it again, mind racing in a whirlwind of responses that are all too much to admit out loud.

He watches that happen too.

And if you weren’t definitely drunk and definitely fucking crazy, you might just say that he was flirting with you. Shamelessly. Maybe even just to watch how you’d react. To test if you’d crawl away under the pressure or stand there and take it like the girl he knew you were deep down.

A faint smirk pulls at his mouth before he can stop it. As if he’s trying not to make it too obvious he enjoyed your reaction.

He looks at you for a second longer than what’s comfortable, then glances briefly toward the house before looking back to you again.

“You gonna be here a while?” he asks.

“I think I’m legally required to be,” you say, gesturing towards the half-filled task that swayed back and forth in your clammy grip.

It gets him again, a small, real smile that had his eyes crinkled and his lips thinning.

“Alright,” he says.

He doesn’t move right away though. Just keeps looking at you like studying you is the only thing that’s worth his time. Not the dozens of extended family members that surround the small space. Definitely not the need for extra hands on cleaning duty. Just you two. In your own bubble, apart from reality.

And you stay there too, for a second too long, feeling the weight of his attention and trying not to react to it. Failing a little anyway every time he zeroes closer into you.

“I feel like I can’t figure you out,” he breaks the silence again, sighing softly to himself and finally pulling his hands out from his pockets. He lets his arms cross over his chest casually instead, leaning further into the side of the house and letting his eyes dart around the rest of your face.

You gulp.

Because what else are you supposed to do when a friend of your parents admits they’d like to unravel you.

“Um…” you look down to your feet as you think of the right words to say. “What do you mean?”

And then his finger comes to rest underneath your chin, a short pressure held there in a soft request for your head to lift back up again.

Your cheeks reddened before your mind could process the act. So simple, but too intimate for the relationship between the both of you. For the gap. For the mutual reason you both know each other in the first place.

“Dunno,” he drops his hand from underneath your chin, voice quieter this time, deeper. “Just know I’d like to.”

You’re not sure if it was the drinks, or the distraction of his skin on yours, or if you were just too dumb to tell, but you were more confused than you would like to admit.

“Like to what?”

He smiles again at this. The question. Like it was adorable to him that you had to ask it at all.

“To figure you out. Get familiar,” his voice is nearly silent as he speaks, hyper aware of the crowd around you both.

Then his eyes are dropping down to your figure and back around the slope of your waist and the curve of your breasts, shamelessly.

“With all of you.”

And no amount of drinks could mistake his intention that time.

You swallow thick as you dizzy yourself with sound of those four words, swirling through your head over and over and over and over again until your skin ran pale and your lips snapped shut.

“Harry…”

But there were no words that could follow. No matter how hard you dug for them.

He leaned off of the house before you could linger on the thought for too long.

“Try and slip away before you’re asked to help some more,” he starts, “maybe I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, a smile creeping its way back to your lips as your eyes flick back and forth between his own. Like they can’t decide which one to rest on.

“Maybe.”

With one final grin, he’s brushing past you in one swift movement like nothing had happened at all. His shoulder moves against yours in a half-accidental fashion, a quick activation for an intense wave of goosebumps that you’ve never felt in the heat of the summer.

And honestly, it was just another thing to add to the list of firsts.

The worst part was, there was so much more you suddenly wanted to add onto said list.

Fast.

SERIES NOTE — please keep in mind that this is a forbidden connection and they will sort of be walking on eggshells like this for a small bit of time. thank u for ur patience!

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You followed him down the path barefoot, your sandals in hand. The sand was already hot, soft beneath your feet. The whole scene felt easy, like something you could fall into if you weren’t careful—you were always careful now, you supposed.

He held out a hand gallantly as you stepped onto the picnic blanket. “M’lady.”

You rolled your eyes but took it anyway, settling onto the pillows with a small smile, maybe even a little pity of a laugh leaving your lips. “So, this is what getting chosen feels like.”

“’Couse someone would pick you,” he said, settling opposite you and uncorking the wine with a steady pop trailing after. “Now we just pretend the cameras aren’t here and talk like we’re on our second date and already secretly obsessed with each other.”

“Great,” you said, accepting the glass he handed you as you tuck a bit of hair that’s flying in your face from the breeze. “Love me a bit of delusion.”

He laughed, leaning back on one elbow. “Alright, then. Let’s start easy—what are you actually looking for in here?”

You took in a breath, licking over your lips as you took a small sip from your glass, “Big questions, Willy.”

“We’re in paradise surrounded by these snacks,” He gestured, “We can handle it, I think.”

You thought for a second, sipping your wine. “I think I’m looking for someone who feels… peaceful. Not boring—just calm. Like I don’t have to audition every time I open my mouth.”

William nodded, serious for a moment. “Someone you can exhale around, then.”

“Exactly.” You tell him, pursing your lips as you move to get more comfortable.

He smiled at that, his nose scrunching a bit under his sunglasses. “Well said.”

“What about you?” you asked, curiosity ringing off of your tone.

He shrugged, reaching for a piece of fruit from the platter between you. “Someone I can be stupid with, have a laugh with,” He pauses, poking his tongue in his cheek, “But also someone I’d actually miss if they were gone. I don’t think I’ve had that in a while.”

You watched him for a beat, thoughtful, you nod in acknowledgement. “So, you’re open to finding something real here?”

He looked at you like the question didn’t scare him. “Yeah. I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Might as well try, right?”

You nodded slowly, trying to not think about what may have been going on at the villa without you. “Yeah. Same.”

He popped a grape into his mouth and grinned. “Okay, now that we’ve gotten all deep and meaningful—tell me the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Oh no,” you groaned, already laughing as you covered your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he teased; his tone was light and flirty and had your stomach in butterflies that you just couldn’t understand. “You owe me for that heartfelt moment.”

You shook your head, biting back a grin as you pushed your sunglasses up on your face. “Fine. But if I tell you, you gotta’ tell me yours. And yours better be worse.”

“No promises.”

{IN A CONFESSIONAL – Y/N}

The camera cuts to you later that day, sitting in the beachside confessional hut, wind-tangled hair and pink cheeks from too much sun and smiling.

“William is honestly… such a breath of fresh air. He’s easy to talk to, so funny, and just gets it. Like, we’re on the same page—he’s open, but not pushy, and I feel like I can actually relax around him. It’s weird—like the whole villa faded for a second, and it was just us. It was really nice.”

You pause, cheeks warming again as you remembered it so fondly.

“I wasn’t expecting to like him this much. But now… I don’t know. I’m kind of hoping he wants to get to know me more.”

You glance to the side, then back at the camera with a small, knowing smile.

“I definitely wouldn’t be mad if he pulled me for a few chats.”

{NARRATOR}

“While Y/N’s off having her romantic picnic fantasy with William and drinking rosé by the sea… back at the villa, someone’s having a slightly less relaxing afternoon.”

Harry sits on the edge of the pool, legs dangling off the side and into the water, sunglasses in his hand, running his thumb over the frame like it’ll help him think but he just can’t help the annoying feeling that sits on his chest.

He huffs out, like it’ll somehow help him and make him feel better.

Ella settles next to him with a sigh, water bottle in her hand as she adjusts the straps of her bikini before she looks over at Harry. “You alright?”

“No,” Harry admits, eyes still on the horizon. “I fucked it.”

Tiana joins them, behind Ella, kneeling to tie her sandal before looking up. “Don’t we all.”

“Always is.”

Ella crosses her arms as she moves to sit next to Harry. “Then what are you doing with Tash still? You should just focus on Y/N if you’re going to sit here and pout.”

Harry exhales like he’s been holding it in all day, but he’s really just having a bit of moment where he knows that’s losing what he really wants. “I panicked. I didn’t think Y/N would want me after all the games, after how I acted. I tried to… I don’t know, distract myself, I guess.”

“She’s not a distraction kind of girl,” Tiana says gently, scrunching her nose.

“I know,” Harry says quickly, thinking. “And I didn’t mean it like that. I just—she doesn’t trust me. Not anymore. And I don’t blame her.”

Ella rests her hand on his shoulder. “Then fix it. Don’t mope around the villa staring at her like a kicked puppy, ‘t’s not a good look. Be honest.”

“She’s on a date with William right now.”

Tiana gives him a look, shaking her head. “Exactly. You don’t have time to sit around hoping the universe sorts it for you.”

Harry nods, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want to tell her I messed up and that I still care. But if I say that and she doesn’t feel the same…”

Ella cuts in, firm: “Then you take it, because she deserves to also make a choice that could potentially benefit her. But at least she’ll know you meant it. Then, you’ll have to have a conversation with Tash about it all too.”

{LATER – THE RETURN TO THE VILLA}

The four of you – Luca, Catie, you and William—find yourselves walking back through the garden gate, laughter from the ride still buzzing in your chest. Luca’s arm is around Catie’s shoulders, and William opens the gate for you with a boyish, “After you.”

Everything looks the same around but feels different.

And then you see him. Harry. Sitting on the daybed near the firepit, head tilted back, fingers twisting a bracelet you recognize as one of Ella’s many that she carried around and made for everyone. When he hears the gate creak, his gaze snaps toward the entrance.

He clocks you instantly, his eyes and attention focus on the fact that the four of you had returned. His posture shifts, jaw tight, like the sight of you next to William scraped something raw.

You ignore it—for now, because it’s much easier than processing that you see an immediate person focusing on you. William gives you a light nudge as you pause near the pool. “Thanks for today.”

You smile back at him. “It was… really nice, thank you. Relaxing, surely.”

He doesn’t kiss you—just smiles, squeezes your hand, and walks toward the kitchen with Luca, going to talk to all the other boys. You feel lighter, seeing Ella and Tiana in your vision like they want to get to you. But it’s Harry walking toward you that grabs your attention almost before you can take another breath.

You have barely made it back in one piece before you watch him take his opportunity.

“Can I—can I pull you for a chat?”

His curls are messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through them all day. He’s not smirking, there’s no teasing. Just him standing there with a hopefulness that starts to ooze from him, an itching like he can’t stand not being around. Like he can’t stand that he doesn’t know what happened on the date.

“How was your date?” He asks after a moment, walking next to you. You don’t want to give any details that would feel disrespectful to William, so you shrug and clear your throat.

“I—I mean, it was good. We went to the beach, had a little picnic,” You raise your brows at him, noticing that he’s staring at you with a fixation that makes you squirm under his gaze, “A Manchester boy, you know. Cheeky, a bit of a laugh.”

Harry’s lips quiver into a small smile, “You like ‘em like that, huh?”

You push your sunglasses up your nose with a small smirk, “Guess that’s what the universe is trying to tell me.” You nod, unsure why your heart’s already sprinting at the way that he’s not saying everything he wants to.

He leads you around the corner of the garden to the small bench by the lemon trees—away from everyone, but not hidden, especially from the kitchen where many people are gathered. He doesn’t sit right away. You can see that he lets you pick where you want to sit before he just stands there, shifting on his feet.

He finally looks at you. Really looks at you.

“I know I’ve been acting weird,” he starts. “And I know I don’t really deserve your time right now, but I need to say something before it gets worse.”

Your arms cross over your chest, not out of anger—just to keep your heart from spilling.

“Okay.”

He swallows hard. “You don’t trust me anymore. And that’s my fault. I—” He huffs a breath. “I picked the safe option. I thought if I went for someone easier, it wouldn’t hurt as much if it didn’t work out. But I haven’t stopped thinking about our connection. Not for a second.”

You blink, heart hammering in your chest as you shake your head. It’s almost too much—you’re trying to process going on the date, then seeing Harry immediately when you enter back.

“Harry—”

“No, let me finish, please.” He goes to sit, voice quieter now. “I didn’t know how to handle how real it felt with you. I still don’t. But today, seeing you come back from that date… smiling with someone else…”

You tilt your head, giving him a quiet headshake as you feel incredulous, “Jealousy isn’t the same as having a connection.”

“I know that,” he says quickly, shaking his head to remind you that’s not what he meant. “It’s not just that. It’s—when I’m not with you, I’m still looking for you, and I just—I know you have other options to explore now, but I just don’t want you to take this off the table, for now. I never wanted it off the table in the first place.”

You stay silent, mostly because you don’t know what to say to that.

He sighs again, a little breathless almost like he’s fighting to just sit there with you. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or fall back into anything right away. I just needed you to know that I never stopped choosing you. Even when I looked like I did.”

You study him as if the more you read, the more you’ll learn about him. He looks… wrecked, hopeful. Boyish in a way that makes something soft ache in your chest.

“You broke my trust, Harry,” you whisper, pulling your lips into your mouth as you shake your head, “I—I just need to think for a bit about it, you know. Don’t really know where this is coming from.”

“I’ll just have to earn it,” he says immediately. “Day by day. I’ll prove it, if you let me.”

You hesitate, then nod once. You aren’t giving everything—but giving him a chance, it’s the least you can do.

He smiles, barely, like it hurts to leave under these conditions.

“Uh, can I – I’d just like a minute, it’s that’s okay.” You swallow, heat rising in your chest as you lay against the day bed and pick your hair off your neck, twisting it into a knot.

There are a few moments where Harry stares at you, but then nods, respecting it. “Sure.”

There’s a finality with that before he lingers a moment, almost like he wants you to change your mind. But, instead, he moves to start the walk back toward the kitchen—slowly, glancing back only once.

You watch the sun sink lower in the sky. And for the first time in days, your chest doesn’t feel so heavy.

{IN A CONFESSIONAL – Y/N}

The camera cuts to you, sitting in the private confessional hut, knees tucked up on the seat, your arms loosely wrapped around them. Your hair’s still slightly wind-mussed from the breeze earlier, and there’s a flushed glow on your cheeks—not from sunburn, but from too many thoughts colliding all at once.

You let out a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“I don’t really know what just happened.”

You pause, looking off to the side, chewing the inside of your cheek for a beat.

“I mean, I do. Harry said all the right things. He said things I thought I wanted to hear. And if he’d said them the day he came back from Casa—maybe I would’ve run to him. Maybe I would’ve believed it straight away.”

Your eyes flick back to the camera, shaking your head.

“But now? It’s hard. He broke my trust. And trust isn’t just… something you hand back like a forgotten hoodie. It’s something you have to rebuild piece by piece. I’m not sure he understands that yet, especially because he was so quick to move on with Tash.”

You shift slightly, pulling your ponytail tighter.

“And then there’s William.”

Your face softens a little, and you feel your tone shift.

“I wasn’t expecting that date to feel like that. He made it easy—he made me laugh. He asked real questions but didn’t press too hard, and for the first time since I got here, I didn’t feel like I had to brace for something underneath the flirting. It was just… really nice.”

A quiet smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.

“I want to keep seeing where that could go. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I do know I’m not closing the door on someone who’s already showing up for me.”

You pause again, shoulders rising as you take a slow breath.

“Harry says he wants to earn my trust back—day by day. Fine. But I’m not waiting around this time. If he wants to prove it, he’s going to have to do that with more than just words.”

You glance away again, nodding to yourself once.

“I’m open. But I’m not naïve.”

{IN THE VILLA – EVENING}

The sun had slipped behind the hills hours ago, but the air still clung warm to your skin. The villa prepared for the evening cocktail hour; the girls sprayed their perfume; their mascara flicked flawlessly through their lashes before everyone started to come down to the main garden.

Harry and Luca entered together, Mitch following behind him.

You sat on the daybeds with Ella and Tiana, dressed in one of your favorite evening fits—butter yellow satin tied at the shoulders, heels already kicked off. Candles glowed in low glass holders across the garden, and soft music played from the outdoor speaker, but none of it matched the storm sitting in your chest.

You curled your legs beneath you, fingers absently picking at the hem of your skirt that laid against your thighs.

“I meant to tell him I was done…” your voice was quiet, slightly frayed as you try and keep the conversation contained to you three. “I really did.”

Ella nudged your knee with hers. “But he got to you. That’s allowed—I mean, you guys had a connection day one and have been inseparable.”

Tiana, perched beside her with a glass of Prosecco, added without missing a beat, “Doesn’t mean he gets you. Not unless he proves he’s worth it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together. The words stuck with you—sharp and true.

Across the villa, the kitchen lights cast a soft yellow glow. William stood there with Luca, both nursing water bottles like they were trying to drown whatever feelings they weren’t saying out loud. William’s eyes were on you, and you could feel the guilt that had started to form in your chest.

“She’s not mine,” he said, voice low, quiet enough to keep between them. “Not really. But I’d still choose her—I’m definitely looking to move with that connection, but I feel that she’s still reserved.”

Luca leaned against the counter, tossing the cap of his bottle back and forth between his hands. “Then, you better mean it. Harry screwed it up—I think you have a chance if you really move in.”

William didn’t answer. Just nodded once, jaw tightening.

“You know the status of him and Tash?” William asks quietly, before he looks around.

Luca takes in a breath before he looks at the way that Tash moves through the garden with the white against her bronzed skin, hair down past her shoulders.

“Haven’t talked with him—I know he was keeping his options open, which is why he brought her back. But I don’t know if he’s made a choice yet, but I think that may fuck him over, ya’know what I mean?”

Back in the garden, Harry sat alone on the edge of the firepit, staring into the flames like they might offer answers if he continued to stare at it blankly. He hadn’t spoken to you since earlier—since that half-confession, since the moment he asked for a chance, and you didn’t give him a clean no. He hadn’t followed up, and hadn’t tried to chase it.

But now, as Tash passed by with a drink in hand and a silky dress that caught the breeze just right, his eyes met hers as he gave her a solemn smile.

“Oi,” he called out casually, smirking at her as she was looking as if she was going to pass him by, “Company?”

Tash glanced back, raising an eyebrow, then smiled. She knew what she was doing, and getting his attention was what she had wanted. “Always.”

His eyes followed the way that she walked from one of the side sofas and sank beside him, suddenly relaxed—too relaxed. For a moment, they just sat there, both staring out at the firepit as if they weren’t trying to be noticed.

Then Tash broke the silence, lifting her drink. “So, cheers to second chances, huh?”

Harry let out a low chuckle as he turned to look at her—that was his first mistake. The way that her eyes caught him was enough for him to force himself to look away. “Think I’m on my third at this point.”

“Third this week,” she teased him with a bite of her lip. “Maybe with me, maybe with others. You’re so naughty I lose count.”

He laughed again—shoulders actually shaking this time, head falling back with the kind of grin that used to make girls lean in closer. It was all so easy for him—too easy. And the wrong kind of loud.

“I should be banned from emotional chats,” he told her softly. “I always sound like I’m trying to win an Oscar.”

Tash smirked, taking a sip of her prosecco as she leaned closer to him. “You do get a bit dramatic. Not gonna lie.”

“Me?” he blinked back at her with a dramatic spin, “I’m chill.”

“You’re chaos,” she replied smoothly, clinking her glass against his. “But entertaining.”

He grinned, dimples on display as he rolled his eyes playfully. “Entertaining’s all I’ve got going for me right now.”

Tash tilted her head, eyes narrow with something sly. “Hm, don’t know about that—think you could probably be more than just entertaining.”

That line hung in the air for a second longer than necessary. Then—his hand moved with a barely there flick of a movement. A subtle brush of fingers along her knee, like he was grounding himself, or performing. Or both.

Tash didn’t flinch. Just glanced down and then back up at him with a slow, practiced smile.

It didn’t go unnoticed—it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

Ella scoffed beside you on the daybed as you all stared at the conversation by the firepit. “He’s joking, right?”

You didn’t answer, but your expression must’ve said enough. Tiana just stared at the scene across the garden; lips pressed into a hard line.

Harry hadn’t looked your way in a while, not since the chat earlier. Not really since you’d told him you needed time, that you didn’t know where all of this was suddenly coming from; that he’d broken your trust, and you needed a moment.

Now he sat on the edge of the sofa beside Tash, all easy laughter and relaxed body language, like he hadn’t poured his heart out to you in the garden. It was like he wasn’t pacing himself through damage control with two girls on either side of the story.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye from the daybeds, trying not to care. But the way his hand casually brushed Tash’s knee was hard to ignore.

Ella let out a slow exhale beside you. “This boy… watch him, watch him.”

Tiana didn’t say anything, but her stare could’ve sliced glass. Then came movement—someone else moving to the firepit, almost like there was a bounty on who could pull Harry the most times.

Megan had been hovering all night, but now she started to cross the lawn with the confidence of someone who’d been waiting for an opening. A drink in hand, gloss perfect, eyes locked on the firepit. Ella saw it happening before, gasping slightly at watching the interaction.

“Oh no.”

She moved from where she’d been sitting with the girls near the kitchen, crossing the lawn slowly, her hips swaying with the kind of confidence that made the entire villa track her progress. Her hair caught the glow of the garden lights, her drink still in hand as she maneuvered her way, with her heels.

You felt it before you saw it—the shift.

Tiana turned toward you with wide eyes. “Wait. No way.”

Megan reached the sofas where Harry and Tash sat, leaned forward slightly, and rested her hand on the back of the seat behind Harry.

“Can I pull you for a chat?” she asked, voice smooth, low, like it was already a secret. Harry blinked, almost like he couldn’t believe it as he turned his head to see Megan standing there. But he gave her a smile, a polite gesture as he turned to look at Tash really quick, before seeing her polite face, too.

“Yeah—yeah, sure.”

He stood, glass in hand, straightening his shirt, glancing between Tash and Megan like he wasn’t sure what expression to land on. In the end, he followed Megan to where she was leading, letting her lead him toward the terrace with the easy charm of someone who didn’t realize how obvious it all looked.

The two of them disappeared up the steps, her hand grazing his arm as they turned the corner.

Ella sat back on the cushions with a dramatic sigh. “So much for earning trust.”

You didn’t say anything. You just watched the boy who said he still wanted you get pulled away by the girl who had kissed him in a game days ago—and who clearly hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

But, at the same time, you sat with the idea that he made claims that he was still fighting for you—this wasn’t all his doing. He could fall into their traps; it was still a game at the end of the day. It was still a place to find love, and Harry was still charming. That’s what worried you.

Megan was single and trying her hand at being chosen, finding her own connections. It was just the way of going about it that you couldn’t see past.

{IN THE VILLA – TERRACE}

The terrace was quieter than the rest of the villa, which is supposedly why Megan would have led Harry up there—high enough to catch the breeze, tucked enough to feel hidden. Fairy lights strung overhead flickered warm and low, casting soft gold across the little cushioned bench tucked in the corner.

Megan led the way, walking like she already knew Harry would follow. When she turned and sat, she crossed her legs slowly, placing her drink on the low table beside her. Harry followed a few paces behind, his jaw tight, one hand rubbing the back of his neck like he was already bracing for whatever this was.

“Bit of fresher air up here, yeah?” Megan said lightly, patting the space beside her. “Maybe a bit clearer.”

Harry gave a short laugh and sat, leaving just enough space between them to be polite—but not cold. “Yeah. Didn’t realize I needed it ‘til now maybe.”

Megan smiled, leaning back on the cushions behind her back, her dress riding up ever so slightly on her thigh. “You’ve had a busy day. And a busier night, I see.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. “That obvious, is it?”

“Babe, the whole villa can feel it,” she said, laughing—she tucked her hair behind her ear. “You’re the man of the hour seems like.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Not sure that’s a good thing.”

Megan tilted her head, her voice dipping a little lower. “Depends on what you do with all that attention.”

There was a pause—quiet, heavy. Megan broke it, casual but calculated as she reached to grab her drink, taking a small sip. “I’m just wondering where your head’s at.”

Harry exhaled, eyebrows knitting together as he recalled the Truth or Dare game. “Yeah,” he said, watching him carefully. “We had that moment the other day, didn’t we? During the game. That kiss.”

“It was a good kiss, to be fair,” Megan replied, her tone matter-of-fact, but there was a flicker of challenge behind her eyes as she gave a soft giggle. “Wasn’t nothing, was it?”

Harry paused, shifting in his seat. “Look, I’m not gonna lie, Meg—it was a good kiss. Surprised me, actually—I mean, more surprised that you chose me.”

Megan’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. “See?”

“But…” he added, rubbing his palm over his knees, “my head’s a bit messy.”

“With Y/N,” Megan said softly.

Harry nodded once. “And Tash, kind of. But mostly Y/N. It’s just… not straightforward, and I think I’m starting to realize that I… do have a stronger connection with her at the moment.”

Megan didn’t press him for an explanation; it wasn’t needed. Instead, she leaned in slightly, her voice turning lighter. “I’m not trying to mess up whatever you’ve got going on. Just thought if you were open to getting to know people… I’d throw my name in, and I know you two aren’t exclusive, so.”

He gave her a look—something between appreciation and regret. “I rate that. I do. You’re sound, Megan. Gorgeous, obviously. Just—”

“You’re not there,” she finished for him, shrugging. “Fair enough.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he blinked a few times, trying to put together what he wants to say that wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but that wouldn’t be used against him later with all the honesty that he held. “I don’t want to lead anyone on. I’ve already done enough of that.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The wind picked up slightly, fluttering the hem of Megan’s dress.

“Well,” she said, standing and brushing her hands down her thighs to adjust her dress, “least I know where I stand now.”

Harry stood too, smiling softly as he stood next to her “Respect for being honest and putting yourself out there.”

Megan glanced back at him before standing up, brushing her dress down. “Maybe next time, try being honest a little earlier.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Harry stood there for a beat longer, staring out over the villa—the garden lights below had a sparkle to them that made him roll his eyes at the possible happiness and overarching optimism, the people he was trying not to lose already slipping further away.

From the daybeds, the view of the terrace steps was unobstructed. It was one of those architectural choices that made it nearly impossible to do anything in private—and tonight, that felt intentional as the names on everyone’s breath were starting to make their way down the steps.

You were still sitting with Ella and Tiana, leaning back against the bench with your neck slightly out to try and catch a glimpse, trying to keep your face neutral all at the same time. But your chest had been tight for the last ten minutes.

Ella stopped mid-sentence when she noticed there was movement, Tiana nudged you.

“Oh, here we go,” Ella murmured to you as the three of you stared at the two individuals coming down from the terrace.

You looked up just in time to see them—Harry and Megan—walking side by side down the stairs from the terrace. Their heads were bowed slightly, not talking, but not exactly keeping distance either. Megan’s arms were folded across her chest; her lips curved into the faintest smile. Harry’s hands were jammed in his pockets.

They didn’t look guilty of any wrongdoings; they didn’t look triumphant either. They seemed quiet, neither of them talking or having a conversation which made your eyes knit with a bit of confusion on why their chatted in the first place.

Your eyes shifted along the rest of the garden; the villa was watching.

Tash glanced over from her place at the edge of the pool, her eyes narrowing the second she clocked them. William, standing near the outdoor bar in the kitchen space, turned just slightly in their direction, then looked quickly away.

Even Luca raised an eyebrow from where he was lounging with Catie. Nobody said a word, but the tension was thick enough to cut.

You watched Harry’s eyes flick instinctively toward you. He looked… unreadable, at most. Like he hadn’t made up his mind about how he wanted to play this next part. You didn’t look away, you didn’t smile. You didn’t even flinch at the way that he leaned in to say something to Megan under his breath—just a quick nod, and then she peeled off toward the girls by the kitchen like it was nothing.

Your heart raced when you watched Harry turn and walked directly toward you. Ella shifted next to you, visibly bristling.

“Oh, no way,” she muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

Tiana stayed silent, but she didn’t make room for him. Harry stopped at the edge of the daybed, hands still in his pockets.

“Can we chat?” he asked, his voice softer than you expected.

You stared at him, Ella scoffed. You glanced at her—she didn’t even try to hide her glare. Harry’s jaw tightened slightly, like he was biting back a reaction at that. You exhaled slowly and stood, brushing your hands down the side of your dress.

“Yeah, sure.”

Ella didn’t move as you stepped past. Tiana gave Harry a single, cutting look before turning her head.

“Don’t think I deserve to be fucking written off,” Harry bit at their reactions; his reaction caught them off guard for a moment before you took in a breath; he stood with a sour expression that was ultimately laced in a bit of hurt, “It’s fucking Love Island for Christ sake, I’m not a fucking villain here.”

“No, but you’re still a prick,” Tiana said quickly, her reaction and tone matching his. “You knew how Y/N felt, and you still walk around with that smug smirk.”

You started to walk away from the conversation to not get involved in either part of it; in your surprise, he didn’t respond to Tiana, you felt him on her tracks. You walked ahead of him toward the quieter side of the garden, not waiting to see if he followed. But you knew he would, and behind you, the villa was still watching.

You led him to the part of the garden, where the lanterns dimmed and the sounds of the villa softened into distant murmurs. There was a bench—half in shadow, half in glow under a bit of dim glow. You took a seat, crossing your legs as you took in a deep breath and prepared yourself for what he could say.

Harry hesitated before stepping closer but kept a small distance between you. He could feel the wall you’d built since the last time you spoke—and it wasn’t subtle.

“Before you say anything,” he started, voice low because he didn’t want the entire villa to hear their conversation, “I just want to be honest. About what that was.”

You turned your head, giving him a glance but not giving in. “Go on, then.”

He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling. “Megan pulled me because she wanted to see where my head was at. And I told her—straight up—that it’s messy,” He paused for a moment, poking his tongue in his cheek, “And that I’m not interested in her like that—I just don’t see us forming a connection now, and that I’m focused on someone else.”

You looked at him fully now, eyebrows raised. “Right. And you needed to tell her that on the terrace? Alone?”

“She took me up there.” Harry didn’t flinch responding, looking at you—keeping eye contact the whole time. “She kissed me during the game, remember? I think she’s been waiting for a moment since then. I just… didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t want it to turn into something bigger than it was.”

You let out a short breath—half laugh, half disbelief as you looked down. “It’s already bigger than it was, Harry. Everything is because every time someone sees you laughing with Tash, or disappearing with Megan, or looking at me like I’m the one confusing you—it’s already a whole thing.”

He looked down for a moment, he picked at his thumb nail to focus in on something. “I get it. I do. I just… I didn’t think saying yes to that chat would matter that much—"

You shook your head, lips tight as you felt yourself interrupt his thoughts. “It’s not about the chat. It’s about what it looks like, what it feels like. You’re saying you want to earn my trust, but you’re everywhere with everyone, Harry. I don’t want to be one of three girls orbiting around whatever version of you shows up that day.”

His eyes flashed with something—it looks like hurt mixed with a guilt that almost made his put a permanent sadness on his face.

“I’m not trying to play games,” his voice has an earnest nature to it, like he just couldn’t keep this up anymore. “I didn’t plan for any of this. You know that, right?”

You gave a small nod, but your arms stayed crossed as you tried your best to hear him out. “I know. But you’re still in it, whether you meant to be or not,” you swallow as you shake your head, “And I’m not going to fight anyone for you, Harry. I won’t do that—I’m not wired like that, that’s not why I’m here.”

There was silence between you. It was a silence that didn’t warrant either of you to speak; you took in a breath; he let one out. Then, Harry nodded slowly.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” he said finally, shrugging like he didn’t have anything else to give. “And I’m sorry I made it feel like that. Truly—the only regret I have this far is making you feel like that.”

You let your arms drop slightly, your posture softening but your eyes still guarded. “You’re saying a lot of the right things lately, but your timing sucks.”

He gave a faint smile; you weren’t sure if there were tears in his eyes or if it may have just been the glowing lights hitting them differently, but you instantly looked away because it hurt to see him distraught.

“Yeah. That’s fair.” He responded, nodding again.

There was another short pause before you took in a breath, you looked at him properly now. “What do you want?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He looked at you like he was still trying to figure it out himself. Eventually, he said, “I want something real with you. But only if it’s not hurting you to try.”

You nodded once, not a finality in it, but more of an eeriness that you couldn’t pinpoint. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a yes or a no—it was an okay. That word itself became a boundary; it was a space for him to prove it or walk away. Harry didn’t push any further on it, to try and get an answer out of you. He just sat there, shoulders a little heavier, watching you like he knew he’d already used up his last second chance.

Harry leaned forward, elbows on his knees as his eyes diverted up to you. “You still thinking about William?”

You didn’t answer right away because there wasn’t a reason to give any details to him; you wanted to be honest, wanted to tell him that you and William had a great date. You found that he had been very respectful, had a lot of character that made you feel wanted and seen.

You wanted to tell Harry that because you wanted him to feel the jealousy.

But then—

Ping, ping.

A sharp, echoing chime ripped through the quiet from across the garden. You both snapped at the familiar sound towards the garden, heads lifting to see that Mitch held the phone up in his hands. Voices rose from the pool area. The rest of the villa had started to gather.

Harry stood first, brows furrowed. “Fucking hell.”

You followed, legs slightly stiff as you walked side-by-side toward the group, the ease of your chat instantly gone. Like it had been placed in a glass case and sealed.

Mitch already had the phone in hand. You arrived just as he cleared his throat to read aloud, the others circling in with widened eyes and held breath.

“Islanders. Tonight, there will be a recoupling. The boys will choose which girl they want to couple up with. The girl not chosen will be dumped from the island—immediately. Please make your ways to the firepit.”

You stood frozen in place, eyes flicking toward Harry, whose body was already rigid beside you. His jaw locked tight, his eyes on you like there wasn’t anyone else in the world—you felt the heat of his stare, the need in his body language as he stood practically as close to you as possible without physical touch.

Across the circle, William turned slowly, his stare landing on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He didn’t speak—but the message was there, clear as day.

Tash sat a few feet away, her spine straightening sharply as she took in the information. Her lips parted like she was about to say something—but no sound came. She just looked from Harry to you and then quickly down, composing herself with a sharp exhale.

And beside you, Ella reached for your arm, grounding you from your feeling of floating. You turned slightly, meeting her wide, serious eyes as you both started to make your ways over to the firepit.

{IN A CONFESSIONAL – HARRY}

He’s sitting forward in the seat, fingers laced together tightly as he thinks for a moment before speaking. There’s an unwritten tension that stays on his face longer than a single moment because he’s completely unsure of what he wants to say.

“If I’m honest, I thought I’d already ruined it, and maybe I have. But if there’s even half a chance, she feels the same… I have to take it.”

He exhales slowly, nodding to himself like he’s trying to believe it.

“I know who I want to be choosing, and I hope it’s the right decision for me.”

{IN THE VILLA – AT THE FIREPIT}

You stand with your hands on the front of your dress that hugs your thighs; the butter yellow is complimentary to your poolside warm skin in a way that invites wandering eyes. The girls stood side by side in a line that felt more like a firing squad than a ceremony with their heads held high, hopes sitting on their shoulders and lifted like shields.

Everyone is pretending they aren’t holding their breath, waiting for their final demise. You stood next to Tash so close your arms could brush if you just leaned a bit to the left, but the distance between you felt like miles. That was the issue—you never wished her any ill-will, you wanted her to find love, too.

You stared forward, lips parted just slightly, trying to look calm, composed, untouched by it all as the villa stood around you like it was going to fall at any moment. But your chest rose a little too fast, and your eyes flicked to Harry before you could stop them.

Johnny had chosen Ella; Liam had chosen Tiana; Luca had chosen Catie. They had made their small speeches, little affectionate tidbits that made each of the girls feel special and wanted for the moment.

Harry was sitting on the bench with the boys, elbows on knees, gaze fixed low as he tried to keep his thoughts unread and composed. That was, until the text tone chimed again; Luca picked up the phone, read the message aloud with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Harry, please stand up.”

Everything else fell away when you realized that your fate was now in his palms. Harry stood slowly almost like he was learning how to, like the air had gone heavy around him. His jaw flexed, his eyes finally lifting—first to the girls next to you, then directly towards your eyes to almost make contact but that would have hurt more than it was worth.

He stood at his spot in front of the firepit, there was a small sweep of a breeze through his curls. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t trying to be charming—it had finally caught up to his emotions to a point now. He couldn’t charm his way around it now.

Tash stood tall beside you, chin tilted upward like she already knew how this was going to go, but her arms sat behind her back, and you wondered what had been going on behind her eyes. You wondered if she really knew, or if she thought she could overcome this.

From being a girl’s girl, you wished that it didn’t have to be this way—in all honesty, there was nothing to hate about any of the girls standing there with you. You were all there for the same reasons, but the connections were getting crossed, messages were getting mixed.

Instead, you reached for her hand softly; not knowing if she would reciprocate the small gesture. Your fingers moved to hold onto hers, letting them settle against hers, and she pulled onto you softly. She took your hand and held it without another look.

When your eyes lifted up, you saw Harry as he stood just in front of the firepit. The flames flicked at the air, like they were dancing. His hands were clenched together in front of him—thumb dragging a nervous line across the ridge of his knuckles.

He took a slow breath in as his fingers fidgeted in front of him when he moved to flex them.

“I’d like to couple up with this girl,” he began with a shaky voice that made his eyes shut just at the idea that he had to choose, “because…”

He looked down for a moment, but when he looked up again, his gaze landed squarely on you, and you wondered if that was what was written in the card or the apology you never received. Either way, your lips parted at the green eyes that laid on you and you already forgave him for something that he hadn’t done yet—regardless. Regardless of if he chose someone else because he truly felt they had a deeper connection.

It’s okay, your eyes pleaded, You’re forgiven.

“…because she sees every side of me—the good, the reckless, the parts I try to hide. And instead of turning away when I make irrational decisions… she makes me want to be someone worth choosing, on her end too.”

Your lips parted as you let a sharp breath in. No one moved from their seats as they looked between Harry and you. A single heartbeat passed, then another. You could feel Tash go still next to you with severe uncertainty—rigid, unreadable.

Harry hadn’t said your name. And still, everything in you already knew this was about to change everything. The night hung in the air, heavy with what was coming next.

The fire crackled softly beside Harry, throwing a warm orange light across his face, but he looked pale beneath it. Not afraid—just ready and braced for whatever came next.

“She challenges me, calls me out when I’m being an absolute nightmare. Makes me feel like I don’t have to pretend even when I’ve given her every reason not to trust me—she still looks at me like there’s something good left. And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to deserve someone so badly than this girl.”

Your heart stopped because you aren’t sure how to react; the silence in the villa was complete. Then, without any further anxiety, you watch him let out a heavy deep breath that looked like it had been holding inside of him for ages.

“Y/N.”

It was your name. It was simply your name with a sureness, it was said like it meant everything.

Gasps echoed instantly with a few shocked murmurs rippled through the group, a whispered “No way…” from somewhere near the boys’ bench. Someone dropped their hand to their mouth. Even Luca looked wide-eyed. You felt the sting of a thousand eyes land on you at once.

Your feet stayed glued to the gravel for half a second too long. The world spun a little, and when you moved, it was like pushing through water. Tash didn’t look at you.

She didn’t look at anyone, instead opting to just stare ahead, expression fixed with a stoicism that you respected. It immediately felt like the entire scene was playing on a screen far away and she wasn’t bothered by any of it. Her arms remained held behind her back as she swayed on her feet for a moment, her jaw locked tight.

You stepped forward towards Harry as he watched every move you made like he couldn’t believe you were actually coming toward him—almost like he had forgotten he had chosen you. When you reached him, he didn’t touch you at first—just let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking over your face.

You stood in front of him, spine straight. Still unsure if you were angry or overwhelmed or something else entirely. He leaned in, quiet, just for you.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a disbelief as he went to wrap his arms around you. You let yourself fall into his touch, almost like you hadn’t let your breath out yet. You didn’t respond, you didn’t have to.

Shutting your eyes, you took in the smell of the suntan lotion mixed with his cologne that almost overwhelmed you right then and there. When you let go of him, you turned to stand next to him, facing outwards as you both went to take a seat on the bench.

Ella shot you a look from across the firepit—wide-eyed, questioning, ready for details the second she got you alone. Tiana’s lips were parted in surprise, like she couldn’t understand what had happened. William, still seated on the bench, blinked slowly like he hadn’t decided whether to be disappointed or impressed.

And then there was Tash—Tash didn’t even blink. Now, you sat beside Harry, your heart still racing, the fire between you and the rest of the villa burning hot.

In a second, you feel the phone next to you chime with the ringtone. You reach down to pick it up to read the message across the screen:

“William, please stand up.”

There was a pause after you said his name; your eyes glancing over to where he sat next to Luca. Then, William stood.

His movement was measured, shoulders rolled back, jaw tight. There wasn’t an angriness about him—but there was an unreadable reaction in that calm, quietly serious way of his. He didn’t look at you, but you could feel it anyway—that faint hum of what he’d almost said. What he almost did say if Harry hadn’t gotten to you first.

“I want to couple up with this girl,” he said finally, his voice low, steady, with something just a little heavy behind it, “because I think she deserves another shot.”

There was a shift then, a subtle one. Even all of the other girls on the bench started to stand straighter.

William didn’t pause for any type of drama. He didn’t look around the villa searching for effect. His words were quiet like he wasn’t trying to sell a love story—just speak something kind into the space between two people.

“She’s been through it in here. And I think sometimes when you get bruised like that, it’s easy to forget who you were before it all started, but she hasn’t. She’s still holding her head up,” He held his hands in front of him, “She’s still cool, still honest. I think we haven’t explored all of our own connection yet, and I’m looking forward to diving a bit deeper.”

You felt Harry shift beside you again, and this time, you knew it wasn’t for your benefit. William’s gaze finally rose—steady and clear directly at her.

“So, the girl I’d like to couple up with… is Tash.”

You turned your head slightly to glance at her. Tash didn’t react immediately—there wasn’t any widened eyes or dramatic exhale like she was saved. She just blinked once, as if letting the words settle inside her, and then stepped forward towards William.

She stopped in front of William, who gave her a small, private smile. There was nothing smug or performative, or unrealistic about it. It was just… kind.

She returned it—just a flicker of a smile in the corner of her mouth—and then took her seat beside him. Just two people aligned for the first time that night. The firepit seemed quieter after that, like everyone had become exhausted just in the past ten minutes of this conversation.

No one said anything, but the mood shifted, ever so slightly. The chaos had dimmed with a soft hush settling over the space. Tiana looked across the firepit at you with raised brows and a tiny shake of her head. Ella leaned forward just slightly, mouthing something you didn’t quite catch.

William’s voice still echoed faintly in your mind: “She deserves another shot.”

You weren’t sure who he’d meant that for—Tash, or maybe you too. But either way, you were grateful for the way he said it.

Tash and William now sat together on the bench, not quite touching with his arm around the back of the seat, but aligned in something that felt stable—newly formed. The rest of the villa seemed to collectively exhale; there were no dramatic gasps, no applause. There was just silence and the soft crackle of the firepit, as if the air had decided everyone needed a moment to recover.

You felt the weight of eyes on you again—Tiana giving you a look that said, This is far from over, and Ella mouthing something with a tight-lipped expression, probably Are you okay? But you couldn’t catch it.

Your heart was still drumming from everything that came before—Harry’s voice choosing your name, William’s eyes not flinching when he didn’t get to. Tash’s composure as she accepted being a couple with William. It was all still settling like silt in water.

Ping, ping.

That sound again. Sharp, and final. Everyone’s heads turned toward the bench where the phone sat. Tiana picked it up without hesitation, her brows drawing together as she read aloud:

“Megan. As the only girl not chosen in tonight’s recoupling… you have been dumped from the island. Please pack your bags and say your goodbyes.”

There it was: the final cut. Megan didn’t move at first as she stood alone.  The whole villa held still, as if even the firepit had dimmed its glow in respect. She just smoothed the front of her dress, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, and gave a single nod.

“Guess that’s me, then,” she said quietly, with a wry half-smile. “It’s been real—I do love all of you, and I really loved being here the past few weeks with everyone. We’ve made some great memories, and I do wish you all the best.”

A few people moved quicker than others—Catie came over to hug her, Ella followed, offering soft words. Even Luca stood to say something respectful. You stayed seated for a moment, unsure what your role was anymore. You and Harry stood after a few moments; you gave her a soft hug, Harry following suit.

“Wish you the best, Meg,” He told her softly, before pulling away and rubbing her back.

She didn’t say anything to him; you could tell that there was something that hadn’t been resolved. He looked like he had something to do with the fact that she was going home, which made you feel guilty because she deserved loved just like everyone had.

Megan turned and began walking toward the dressing rooms to collect her items, her heels clicking softly on the stone as the girls started to follow. Not a strut, not a storm-off—she knew that it was her time, and the connections timing just wasn’t there. The moment didn’t end with fanfare; dumps from the villa were always bittersweet. It was just a strange, silent pause—like the villa was exhaling in unison.

Tash tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at William, who was looking down at his hands. Harry glanced toward you—but didn’t move. You blinked once, let your breath go slowly, and stared into the fire. The night wasn’t over yet, but something inside it had caused enough stirring for you to feel the uneasiness to settle.

AFTER THE RECOUPLING...

You and Harry | Catie and Luca | Tash and William | Ella and Johnny | Danni and Ronan | Tiana and Liam | Jess and Mitch

NEXT TIME ON LOVE ISLAND…

{NARRATOR}

“The sun is shining, the villa’s vibing… but today, it’s not just bikinis and banter and the girls chasing after Harry. Oh no. The Islanders are about to serve face—and not in the fun way.”

Harry’s phone rings, reading out the text loudly: “Islanders! Today, you’ll be playing Who Said It? Each round, you’ll hear a quote said by someone in the villa. Your job is to guess who said it, and try not to ruin your friendships in the process. #PokerFace”

The Islanders start walking into the challenge space that held color signs, large billboards with quotes, and a podium for a lucky contestant to guess.

Mitch stepped up to the podium, card in hand, grinning like he didn’t already know he was about to light a match.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat. “This one says…”

He paused—just enough to let the suspense build.

“He’s telling three different girls what they want to hear. And somehow, they’re all still buying it. Who said it?”

The words hit like a slap across everyone; a slow ripple of stunned silence washed through the lineup. You didn’t move as your eyes fixed on the quote like it might change if you stared hard enough. Your stomach tightened with recognition.

Harry’s expression hardened, almost like he hadn’t a clue who could have said that. His arms were crossed, but his jaw had clenched tight as he tried to keep his tongue pressed. He didn’t blink and didn’t play it off like a joke. The silence around him said enough.

Across the group, Tiana leaned into Ella, her voice barely audible but a bit of a laugh on her tongue: “Who said that?”

Ella didn’t respond, but her expression did. On the far end of the line, Tash sat perfectly still, her smile tight and strained, like she was daring someone to look her in the eye and say it outright. Her arms were relaxed, but her knuckles were white where she held the edge of the podium.

Then, Harry let out a low, clipped laugh as he turned his head to look at everyone else who was sitting around on the bench. He spoke up to challenge the area, voice rising just enough to carry.

“Okay, who said it?” he asked, gesturing out to the group, palms open; no one answered, not to his surprise. “We know who it’s about.”

There was a break of silence, then. He scoffed, rolling his eyes before he licked over his lips.

“I’m serious,” he added, sharper now. “Because if you’ve got something to say, say it to my fucking face, huh?”

Ronan shrugged his shoulders, “Mate, if you were honest—”

He turned slowly, eyes scanning each face. His voice cracked slightly on the next line. “Is that how you all see me? Just some dickhead running game on three girls at once?”

Voices start to raise as Luca cut in, “I mean, you weren’t leading the girls on to think anything, so it’s fucked that someone said it like that. Obviously, you’re testing connection, and that’s not wrong.”

Ella chimed in, “Taking the girls up the hideaway, sharing a bed with her in Casa—”

“It’s not your fucking place to say how I test my connections, Ella!” Harry exclaimed leaning out to look at her down the line on the bench. “I’m not fucking playing anyone—the deceit and lies that are being made because you’re fucking bitter about something is weird—my fucking character isn’t up for grabs.”

Ella bit back, “I’m not bitter about anything, I just think your behavior is fucking garbage—you’re making a mug of Y/N when she’s been loyal to your connection.”

Tiana rolled her eyes, “You want to have cake and eat it too, Harry—get your fucking ten minutes of screen time, won’t you.”

“That was a bit out of pocket,” You say quietly, shaking your head, “He’s not—that’s not what’s happening, and you guys are coming on strong.”

Taking in a breath, Tash shrugged her shoulders as she looked down the line at the girls with an annoyed eye, “He’s not playing anyone—this is a game, don’t know why you girls care so much about situation you’re not even a part of, so fuck off with it, will you?”

You could see it then—just the flicker of it. It was an immense level of hurt, masked in frustration as Harry held it together for another moment; he turned his hat around on his head in an annoyed huff. The way he squared his shoulders but couldn’t quite keep his mouth from trembling at the edge.

Across the room, Tash sat upright in bed, her hair in blonde braided pigtails, her eyes already open but maybe you can see they’re a bit puffy from either lack of sleep or something else. She didn’t say much but just swung her legs off the side and sat there for a moment, contemplating as she started staring at the floor.

The others slowly came to life around her; Ella mumbling something about needing caffeine, Megan humming absently to herself as she padded barefoot across the room. There was no giddy giggling this morning like there had been previously; there was a certain shift around here now. Just the sound of people existing in the strange, weighty quiet that follows a long, emotional few days.

And somewhere, on the other side of the villa, Harry was waking up in the Hideaway. Not with Tash, not with you. Just him and the weight of his choices, staring up at the ceiling fan. He stretched his arms above his head as he laid there for a moment on his own.

He hadn’t slept much. The bed was too soft without conversation and the feeling of a cuddle against him. The walls felt too quiet when they weren’t filled with your laughter. He rubbed a hand across his jaw, knowing he’d earned the isolation — and not knowing what, if anything, he was supposed to do next.

A little while later, the smell of eggs and toasted sourdough drifted through the villa as the boys took over the kitchen with their shirtless bodies and sunglasses resting over tired eyes. Mitch had tied a tea towel around his head like a makeshift bandana, humming while he burned half the bacon which only made Johnny laugh. Luca was more precise — plating avocado slices like he was on Master Chef, and sneaking glances toward the hallway that led to the dressing room.

Harry stood at the espresso machine, pressing buttons with purpose, like maybe he could steam out the tension in his chest with milk froth and timing.

“Double shot, oat milk,” he muttered to himself.

He poured two cups— carefully, quietly and without any acknowledgement from the other boys.

Inside the dressing room, the girls had taken up their usual spots, hairbrushes in hand, bronzer palettes out, eyes still a little puffy from sleep as they started to place sunscreen and lip gloss. You were seated at your vanity, lips slightly parted as you curled your lashes. Tash was two spots down, brushing through her hair in slow, even strokes, as if control over the tangles meant control over something else too.

Ella was halfway through a winged liner when the door opened. Harry stepped in, coffee cups in hand.

The ease of the morning girl conversation faltered when lingering eyes watched as he held two.

“Morning,” he said, voice smooth but cautious. “Figured you might want one.”

He handed you a cup first — oat milk, the way that you always wanted it. Then extended the second to Tash, whose eyes flicked up to him and lingered for just a second longer than necessary before she reached for it.

“Thanks,” you said, placing it on the vanity in front of you.

He nodded, eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t quite name. Harry made his way out of the dressing room quietly, without much more conversation. But before anyone could comment or fill the space with a joke — Luca walked in behind him, grinning, holding another cup.

“Oi, Y/N — told you I’d get yours right,” he said proudly. “One sugar, just how you like it.”

You blinked, surprised, accepting the second cup with a laugh that you didn’t expect to bubble up.

“Two coffees?” Ella whispered beside you with a smile and a giggle to match. “She’s got them fighting in beans and steamed milk.”

You set one coffee down, still unsure which to drink from first. You hadn’t expected that there would be a moment like this where you had two boys fighting for your attention; you knew how one looked. Harry brought coffee for both girls, but now you had coffee from two boys. You took in a breath as you looked at the girls around you and raised your brows.

“Get it, girl,” Tiana giggled across from you, as she painted on a few freckles.

Tash took a sip of her coffee with a quietness, obviously not impressed that she wasn’t the only one who received the cup, but it seemed to hold implications on either side.

“Dammit, Harry,” you mumbled out, shaking your head.

Ella leaned closer with a wide, knowing smirk as she gave you an eye. “So… which one are you drinking first?”

You bit back a smile, eyes flicking between the cups. “One was made with care. The other with guilt.”

“Ohhh!” Jess gasped, spitting out a laugh, “He really is double-dipping.”

Tash let out a quiet huff of amusement but didn’t look over. She was busy applying lip liner — and pretending she didn’t care. But of course, she cared; she didn’t want to be between them, either. She wanted to explore connections with Harry, but not if it was going to be at the cost of her dignity.

“Let me get this straight,” Megan said, leaning on her elbows. “Harry brings you a coffee… and then Luca walks in and does the same? Back-to-back baristas?”

“It’s giving Y/N is the main character,” Tiana added, twirling her brush. “It’s giving she’s got options.”

You shook your head, laughing despite the twist in your stomach. “I didn’t ask for either. They just—did it.”

“Exactly,” Ella said, pointing at you through her brow pencil. “You didn’t ask. Which means they’re chasing. Which means…”

“You’ve got both of them in a milk steamer,” Jess finished, tongue-in-cheek with her Scouse accent that made you smile every time she spoke. “Extra froth going on, girl.”

The girls started laughing at that comment, even Tash cracked a smile at that one. You stared into one of the cups, then glanced at the other. Luca’s had a smiley face drawn on the lid in Sharpie.

You didn’t say much after that. But your silence said enough.

Down in the main villa, the boys were in various states of gym effort: some actually working out, some just lounging in joggers with towels over their shoulders pretending they might start.

Harry was lifting dumbbells like his life depended on it, trying to stay focused, but mostly failing when he let his mind wander. His thoughts kept drifting — to the coffee, to your expression, to the way your fingers curled around the cup when he handed it to you.

Then Mitch wandered in over to him, towel draped over his neck, taking a sip from his water bottle.

“You see Luca this morning?” he asked casually, flopping down on a bench near Harry.

Harry didn’t look up at him, shaking his head when he placed the thirty-pound weights down. “What about him?”

“He was buzzing, mate,” Mitch looked over to see Luca by the pool with Ronan, casually having a conversation, but Mitch tried to keep his quiet, “Said he made Y/N a coffee and brought it up to her.”

Harry paused, looking over at Mitch with a completely confused expression, almost like he hadn’t completely understood what he had said—or thought that it made sense.

Luca and Y/N?

“What?”

Mitch leaned back, unfazed by it. “Yeah, said he got in there. Drew a little smiley face on the lid and everything. Bit cheeky, actually—sounds like he’s moving in on that, then.”

Harry’s jaw shifted, tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek. He didn’t say anything for a long second before he shrugged and placed his sunglasses over his eyes and on the bridge of his nose.

“Fair enough,” he muttered finally, reaching for his towel and tossing it over his shoulder, wiping some of the sweat from the back of his neck. But then the way he grabbed his water bottle with a little more force than necessary didn’t go unnoticed.

Mitch raised a brow, smirking at his annoyance. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied quickly. “It’s fair game, innit?”

“Right,” Mitch drawled, licking his tongue over his bottom lip as he stared at Harry for a moment. “Course. All’s fair in love and war or whatever.”

But Harry wasn’t really listening anymore. He was already replaying the image in his head: Luca, smiling, handing you coffee with that stupid Sharpie face that probably made your heart flutter. You laugh, you sip it, you choose it over his.

Maybe choosing him over him. He let out a long, slow breath and stood, making his way back to the bedrooms to get himself dressed and showered for the day.

The midday sun was relentless over the villa, bronzing bare shoulders and soaking into the terracotta tiles that circled the pool. A few of the boys lingered by the make-shift gym, shirtless and smug as they just want the ladies to give them a second look, attempting half-hearted workouts between bursts of banter.

You were stretched out on a beanbag near the lawn, sunglasses perched on your nose, the edge of your thigh sticking to the vinyl under you. Ella sat beside you, her legs swinging gently as she watched Mitch try to pull himself up on the bars — and fail spectacularly.

“Bless him,” she muttered. “That bar’s got more fight in it than he does.”

You huffed a laugh, only half-listening, your attention flicking, despite every reason to not look, across the pool, to where Harry stood. His curls were messily pushed back into a backwards hat, his skin kissed golden, and he was laughing at something Mitch said with his arms crossed, shoulders flexing with the movement.

He looked good—which, of course, only made it worse.

PING, PING.

Tiana nearly dropped her sunglasses scrambling for it, “I got a text!”

She swiped up, squinting at the screen, then read aloud with a grin in her voice, “Islanders, it’s time for a friendly game of Truth or Dare! Gather at the lawn and get ready to spill… or snog. #NoSecretsNoMercy #MakeItHot”

Jess immediately groaned into her palms. “This is going to end with someone crying or kissing the wrong person.”

“Or both,” Ella added brightly, standing and smoothing down her bikini bottoms.

You pushed up to stand, smoothing your own top with steady hands. You could feel it creeping in — that dull twist of dread in your belly that held fear and anticipation. These challenges always rubbed salt into the wounds, so you hoped that you could at least stand through it.

Harry was still across the way. He had been giving you a glance, gaze catching yours. You didn’t look back.

The Islanders gathered on the lawn, sitting cross-legged in a loose circle around a crate filled with rolled-up dares. Everyone was in swimwear, glistening with SPF and tension so high on their shoulders that it felt like the weight of the world. On the surface, it was all grins and sun and bare skin as they prepared for the game to start.

Mitch, of course, stood up to go first while the rest of the Islanders clapped around him. He reached in dramatically and read it out loud with an exaggerated gasp.

“Dare — give a lap dance to the Islander you think is most your type.”

“Oh God,” Jess muttered, already dreading what was coming. She placed a hand over her face to keep the blush off of it.

Mitch grinned, turned to her like it wasn’t obvious. “Well, she already knows it’s her.”

Then he dropped into a squirming, floppy attempt at a lap dance, humping the air while Jess screamed laughing and swatted at him. The circle erupted into chaotic laughter and dramatic sound effects of barking and whooping.

“I swear,” Jess muttered, wiping tears from her eyes, “if I wanted to see trauma in real time, I’d rewatch Movie Night.”

Next was Tiana, standing up to stand in front of everyone. She plucked a scroll and arched a brow as she took in a deep breath.

“Truth — which couple do you think won’t last on the outside?”

The noise simmered as everyone leaned in, Harry’s nose scrunched at the question before he bit the inside of his cheek.

She chewed the inside of her cheek for a second as she thought and hummed. “I’ll say Harry and Tash. No shade, really. Just… not feeling it.”

Jess and you look at one another as the boys give a slight groan; Tash gives a look of defeat, shrugging.

“Can I ask what you’re not feeling?” She asks Tiana quickly before catching her off guard.

Tiana licks over her lips, “Don’t know—guess it just feels more physical, and don’t think that will translate outside the villa.”

There’s a bit of tension before Tiana sits back in her space with a few people clapping at her wrapping up, and Tash turns to Megan, “She doesn’t even know what kind of conversations we’ve had.”

“Girl, it’s just a game, yeah?” Tiana leans over with a bit of defensiveness in her words, “Don’t need to be worried about it.”

Instead of allowing the bit argument to continue, it was Harry’s turn to stand up as he wiped his palms on his swim trunks.

You felt the air change around you, hugging your knees to your chest as you squint in the sun. You didn’t look at him, but your body was suddenly very aware of his presence — of the way the game could turn, any second, into something personal. He reached into the crate and pulled a scroll, unraveling it.

“Dare — kiss the Islander you think you have the most unfinished business with.”

The entire group fell quiet; you could tell there was a bit of animosity. You kept your face neutral — lips slack, shoulders relaxed, as you bit the inside of your lip, but your heartbeat had gone tight and fast under your ribs. Your lungs would be bruised from the pace of it.

His barefoot steps were soft in the grass before he let himself move towards you. You didn’t look up until he stopped in front of you. When you did, he was already leaning down and into you.

The kiss landed gently on you, a warm hand cupping your cheek, his lips brushing against yours in a way that was neither showy nor smug. It wasn’t for the crowd, it wasn’t performative. It held a tenderness that you had forgotten about, but you welcomed it without any protest. He meant it, and that somehow made it feel worse.

You didn’t kiss back, not really, but you didn’t pull away either. And when he stepped back, your lips still tingled with the ghost of it. Around the circle, the other Islanders were quiet for a beat. Then Ella let out a low whistle.

“Well,” she muttered, “did we just finish it?”

Tash looked away, not wanting to see the aftermath with a jaw clenched when she knew how this felt. You didn’t care—you couldn’t care about her when you felt this. You were too busy being furious with yourself for how much you felt it.

Then it was your turn. You reached into the crate, pulled a scroll, and unrolled it slowly.

“Dare — whisper a secret into the ear of the person you trust least in the villa.”

The entire group erupted in shrieks and dramatic gasps; you took in a breath as you knew that this could change the entire game.

“Oh my God,” Jess howled. “That’s insane.”

You took another breath, another beat. You contemplated for a moment before you looked around the circle, seeing the faces of them looking back at you. Especially one that felt necessary.

One long, slow inhale, and then you started walking around the circle to the one person that you knew you wanted to whisper to.  You didn’t even glance around too much, his expression unreadable.

You leaned in — lips near his ear, your voice low enough that no one else could hear as you cupped your hand around to keep it soft.

“I almost came up to the Hideaway last night but I wanted you to miss me, and I respect myself too much.”

He flinched; a knowing smile left on his lips just barely. Your eyes met his as you pulled away, even though the sunglasses kept them separate—thankfully. Then you turned, walked back, and sat down again.

Around the circle, mouths were open. Tiana’s jaw was practically on the lawn. Even the boys were murmuring amongst themselves, whispering about the fact that you chose him, “Did she just—?”

Harry didn’t move, didn’t say anything cheeky like he normally would. Instead, he just nodded and leaned back on his palms with his legs stretched out. You didn’t say anything else, you pulled your knees back to your chest.

The game rolled on — more dares, more chaos ensued with the truth bombs letting the Islanders laugh until their stomachs and cheeks hurt just the same. Ella kissed Johnny when asked to kiss the Islander with the sexiest tattoos, Megan was asked her favorite sex position. The usual mess unfolded in the usual way.

But nothing that followed hit quite like that kiss, or that whisper. It was all that you could think about; you knew from how quiet he had gotten, he had it just on his mind the same.

You shifted slightly, adjusting your bikini top and leaning back on your palms as the game moved on. The wooden crate at the center was filled with rolled-up dares and truths, some scrawled in eyeliner, others in smudged pen. Tiana had joked it looked like a cursed offering to the gods of villa chaos.

Harry sat across the circle, his legs stretched out in front of him, ankle crossed over ankle, his sunglasses low on his nose. Tash was next to him, knees grazing his. You hadn’t said a word to him since the kiss earlier.  You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

Ella nudged you gently as Megan reached into the box.

“She’s definitely pulling something,” Ella murmured under her breath.

You gave her a small shrug, feigning indifference. “She’s always pulling something.”

Megan read the scroll silently first to herself before her lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile.

“Dare,” she read aloud, voice syrupy. “Kiss the Islander you’d most like to share a bed with tonight.”

There were instant reactions around the circle — gasps, hollers, the obligatory Ooooh! from Mitch, who had clearly been hoping it would land on him. But Megan didn’t laugh like everyone had started to. Being another single girl in the villa, you could see the wheels turning in her head before she contemplated her decision.

For a moment, you thought she might play it safe. Choose Mitch or Ronan or even Luca — something cheeky, something meaningless since none of them were in completely serious couples. Something that would make everyone laugh, that would be a passing joke.

But then she looked at Harry and didn’t look away as she started to approach him.

“Oh, come on,” Tiana whispered beside you.

Megan walked, slow, confident steps in the purple bikini that held tight against her bronzed skin, until she was standing directly in front of him. Harry looked up at her, head tilted, his grin lazy.

“Hope you don’t mind,” she commented softly with a smile on her face.

He chuckled back with his head tilted back for more access. “Not complaining.”

The kiss wasn’t long, but it was intentional. She kissed him like she wanted people to watch — like she wanted you to watch. Her hand on his shoulder, lips lingering just a breath longer than necessary. You turned your head away from watching, because it wasn’t worth seeing the stupid, cocky grin that laid on his face.

When she pulled back, she winked at him, then sauntered back to her place like she’d just won a round. You didn’t move with the reaction that was probably stoking. But the heat behind your ribs spread into something cold.

Ella exhaled with a whisper. “That was messy.”

“She’s desperate,” Tiana said flatly, raising her brows as she brushed some of the grass off the back of her thighs.

Harry, to his credit, didn’t say anything—no cheeky comment, no turning towards the boys to give a stupid, irreverent statement. He rubbed his jaw again and avoided looking directly at you, which only confirmed everything you already knew.

Then, it was Tash’s turn to draw from the crate.

She reached into the crate, cheeks already slightly pink from sun or nerves, hard to tell. She unraveled the scroll with a flick of her nails and read it aloud:

“Dare,” she said. “Kiss the Islander with the most underrated chat.”

There was a gap after she stated that it was a dare; her eyes wandering around the group for a moment. The girls looked at one another, then back to you.

“Well, that’s dangerous,” Luca muttered.

All eyes shifted to Harry.

Even he seemed to expect it, already straightening his posture slightly, his smirk creeping back. You could see the hope flicker behind his expression — the assumption that he was the obvious answer. That even after the kiss, even after everything, she’d come back to him.

But she didn’t.

Tash stood, didn’t look at Harry, and walked across the circle toward Ronan. Your head tilted slightly. Ella sat up straighter beside you.

Ronan blinked with a stupid smirk, like all of his hopes and dreams had suddenly come true. “Wait, what?”

“I think you’re slept on,” Tash said casually, then leaned in and kissed him.

It was quick with no lingering, but it was certainly not meaningless in the slightest, either. When she returned to her spot, still not looking at Harry, the silence that followed was louder than the few gasps and groans.

“How do you feel about that, Harry?” Johnny asked quietly, a smug smile on his face as he leaned to look at his friend.

Harry shrugged, nonchalance lacing over his features before he shook his head. “We’re not real big on chatting, are we. Guess I can get over that.”

Tash let the smirk on her face take over before she shook her head, “At least we have finished business.”

Harry’s expression didn’t change much, but you noticed the tension in his jaw. The flex of his fingers against his thigh. He didn’t like not being chosen.

And when he finally glanced at you, your face was unreadable.

You didn’t smile; you didn’t gloat. You just looked at him like you’d finally stopped expecting anything at all, which hit him harder than anything had before.

{NARRATOR}

Well, the sun might be going down… but Harry’s emotional confusion? That’s just getting warmed up. Nothing like a kiss with your ex to make your current flame feel super secure.

The heat still clung to everything, the railings, the beanbags, the inside of Harry’s chest. He wasn’t really in a rush to process what just happened — not the way his lips had moved against yours in front of everyone, not the way you’d looked at him after, not the way his pulse had lingered there in his throat for minutes after he’d sat back down.

Instead, he wandered through the villa and caught sight of the daybeds.

He found Tash sprawled on the edge of the daybeds, long legs crossed at the ankles, sunglasses perched on top of her head, glinting in the last light. She was leaning back on her elbows, looking almost bored as she talked with Megan quietly; to which, Harry couldn’t understand the seriousness of the conversation — except for the glint in her eye when she saw him approaching.

“Can I pull you for a chat, then?” Harry asked quietly before Megan gave a smirk, and Tash nodded softly before taking Harry’s hand to get yup.

“So…” she said, her voice light and teasing, “unfinished business, yeah?”

Harry scratched at the back of his neck as he grinned, the charm returning like a reflex he couldn’t help but show off. “What can I say? I follow instructions.”

Tash approached the benches under the balcony, laying softly on them before she arched a brow in question. “Didn’t seem like a hard decision.”

“Didn’t say it was.” He dropped down beside her without ceremony, settling into the cushions with an easy familiarity, head tilted toward her. The tension between them had always been this — playful, poking, just a little dangerous.

“But don’t get it twisted,” he added, voice lowering slightly. “You’ve been trouble since the second you walked into Casa.”

Tash laughed softly, her eyes narrowing in amusement. “You liked it, though.”

Harry pursed his lips, shaking his head, “Never said I didn’t.”

She shifted, leaning in just a hair, her voice dipping into something slower. “Still think I’m a bit of a nightmare?”

Harry chuckled, deep and quiet, making eye contact now before he let his dimples protrude with a smirk. “One hundred percent.” Then, after a beat: “But I rate it. Keeps me on my toes.”

That earned a proper smile from her — small, pleased, but not smug. She liked the game just as much as he did; she liked the teasing, and she knew how much it had bothered him that she kissed someone else.

“So, what now?” she asked, flipping her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “You’ve had your dramatic moment. What’s next, Mr. Mixed Signals?”

He exhaled through his nose, letting his gaze drift up to the dusky sky for a moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not closed off.”

“Oh, clearly,” Tash said, her voice dry and soft, almost like it was just under her breath.

He turned toward her again, laughing. “Oi.”

“What?” She smirked. “You snog your ex-missus with unfinished business and then come lay with me — what am I supposed to think?”

Harry leaned in slightly, his elbow brushing hers. His eyes flicked to her mouth for a split second — barely long enough to register, but enough that she noticed.

“That I’m exploring my options,” he told her with honesty laced in his voice. He stared up at her, pulling his sunglasses into his curls before he tilted his head.

Tash tilted her head, unimpressed but intrigued. “Exploring… or just being greedy? Can’t buy the cow and get the milk, or whatever the phrase is.”

That slow, half-smirk returned to his face — the one that made it hard to tell whether he was serious or just playing.

“It’s my money, innit?” He joked, “I’m paying my dues.”

She let out a low, breathy laugh and leaned back, giving him space again. “Well. If you’re still exploring…and if you’re paying for the milk.”

She looked at him, all glittering eyes and heat beneath her lashes; she didn’t want to lean in when she knew that others were looking, but Tash felt that her “You know where to find me.”

{CONFESSIONAL - TASH}

Tash shook her head, pulling her lips into her mouth.

“I think that Harry is playing a game with me, but I do think we have undeniable chemistry, so I can see it in his face,” She bites her lip, “I know he was with Y/N, but the whole point of Love Island is to test that connection and I think I’m throwing him for a loop a bit.”

{IN THE VILLA}

Harry watched her for a moment, neither leaning in nor pulling away because they both know what they want but can’t have. Just letting the tension hang there — that charged, magnetic in-between that he never seemed to leave lately.

He didn’t answer; he didn’t have to.

{CONFESSIONAL – HARRY}

He’s sitting on the confessional bench, arms draped on his thighs, sunglasses pushed into his curls. He sighs with a little smirk, shaking his head like he’s completely unaware of the fact that he could potentially be making a huge mistake.

“Look, I don’t regret bringing Tash back.” A single beat passes before he looks up, “But I needed to be more respectful.”

All that he displays is a shrug and a much wider grin, almost like he can’t control himself.

“Did I handle any of this perfectly? Nah. Do I still think Tash is fit? Absolutely. But I’ve got history with her… and now I’ve got chemistry with Tash.”

He leans forward slightly, eyes mischievous.

“The villa’s just got complicated again, hasn’t it?”

{IN THE DRESSING ROOM}

Somewhere outside, a bottle of sunscreen hit the deck with a hollow thud, and someone’s laughter echoed near the pool. Ella tossed her sunglasses onto the marble counter with a casual flick of her wrist, shaking out her hair to prepare to slick it back for the evening cocktail hour.

“Did anyone else clock that little daybed moment?” she said, not looking at either you or Tiana, just raising an eyebrow at her own reflection as she reached for her mascara.

Behind her, Tiana let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Harry and Tash? Yeah, babe. Clocked it, logged it in my journal, highlighted it in bold.”

You sat down on the bench beneath the vanity row, toweling the back of your neck slowly, methodically — like if you focused hard enough on that one motion, it might help you care a little less. It didn’t, obviously.

Ella turned slightly, watching you in the mirror now. “He kissed you today because of ‘unfinished business’. And now he’s laid out all flirty with the girl he brought back?” Her voice was sharp but not cruel; it was the kind of protective edge that only surfaced when someone she cared about was getting mugged off.

“He’s playing it both ways,” Tiana added, applying bronzer without missing a beat. “It’s like he’s not getting properly told off.”

You glanced at your reflection for a moment; you see your hair damp at the ends, face slightly flushed from the heat and all the things you weren’t saying. You weren’t crying. But you looked… tired.

“He said he still wanted to explore,” you murmured, the words tasting thinner out loud than they had in your head.

Ella blinked, putting a hair tie in her mouth to pull her hair back into a pony. “And you think Tash is gonna back off now?”

You shrugged, rubbing the towel between your hands. “She said I could trust her,” you said softly. “I just… feel like I’m the one looking stupid again.”

There was a silence then after you spoke, not a cold one, just the kind that falls when friends are trying to find the right words to say. Then Tiana twisted in her stool to face you properly.

“Babes,” she said, voice firmer now. “He’s the one looking confused.” She gave you a once-over, head to toe. “You? You’re still the girl everyone wants, and you’re going to move on if he’s going to never mind the bollocks.”

You looked up, meeting her eyes — and there it was. That flicker of belief passed between you. You weren’t sure you fully felt it yet, but it was something. Enough to hold onto for the moment, at least until you could talk with him. A slow, reluctant smile curved your mouth.

It wasn’t big or overstated, but it was real. And in this villa, that counted for a lot.

{IN THE VILLA – EVENING}

Glasses clinked on countertops as everyone made their way from the bedroom and dressing rooms down to the main portion of the lawn. Laughter drifted like smoke across the patio as Johnny made a comment about earlier; Harry sat with Tash next to him, having a quick chat. The cocktail hour hum had settled — less chaotic than daytime, more dangerous in its calm.

You walked over to Luca who was standing next to Megan; the light from the string lights overhead was just starting to glow faintly, casting a warm halo on the top of his head.

As you approached, he glanced to the other side of him at the subtle notice of someone next to him. “Well, well,” he said, eyebrows raised. “This feels suspicious.”

You gave him a tired smile. “Mind if I pull you for a quick chat?”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Ooooh. What’s this, then? Bit of unfinished business?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smirk tugging at your mouth. “If I have to hear that one more time,” You joked, shaking your head as you started walking towards the seats underneath the terrace, “Just a little something different, then. Come on.”

You led him toward the corner of the garden, where the fairy lights were brighter and the noise faded to murmurs. There was a bench tucked between two planters, shaded by a low-hanging olive tree. The kind of spot you could be overheard in — but only if someone really wanted to.

Luca dropped beside you, his knee knocking lightly against yours as you both melted into the seats.

He looked at you, taking a drink from his cup. “So… what’s going on? How was that challenge for you today?”

You exhaled, giving him a solid smile but knowing how much was beneath it. “I’m trying really hard not to spiral—but I genuinely think I’m going mad.”

He didn’t press. Just nodded once, because he knew exactly what you meant and exactly who you were referring to.

You shrugged, eyes flicking toward the pool where the rest of the villa buzzed around. “It’s like… I know who he is. I’ve known since the start, right? I could tell he was a flirt and he doesn’t hide it. But today — the kiss, then chatting to Tash after like it didn’t even mean anything — I just…” Your voice trailed off when you realized how mad it all sounded—how completely lost in delusion you may have been from it. The knot in your chest cinched a little tighter.

“I need to stop waiting for someone to pick me, and I guess I’m just stuck in wondering if I should continue with the connection or not because I don’t want leave here with the thought of knowing we could patch things up, you know?”

Luca was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled with a soft, tilted, a little cocky but not performative grin.

“Well,” he started, hands in his lap as he held his cup against his knees, “if you’re done waiting… maybe it’s time you start getting picked by someone who actually sees what’s in front of him—like you’re a catch, and I know that Casa kind of rocked the villa, as it does, but I think you may need to have a bit more stability.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how gentle it landed, and how it could be harsh in the softest of ways.

He shrugged, taking in a deep breath as he turned his eyes up to look at you. “I’ve been single two days and I already know you’re better than that mess.”

You gave a laugh — not the tight, forced one you’d been perfecting lately. A little breathy, but yours.

“So what,” you said, bumping your shoulder into his, “Will you be pulling me for more chats then?”

Luca smirked, licking over his lips. “I mean…,” He bit his lip, letting the silence from your private dwelling hang for a beat before finishing: “If the door’s cracked open, I’d be mad not to try. You’re gorgeous and I think you have a lot more connections you could build, but you put all of your eggs in his basket the first day.”

You looked at him, really looked at his brown eyes and his bronzed skin and something in you settled. Maybe not all the way, but enough.

You smiled, leaning back for a moment. “Consider it cracked—ajar, really.”

His grin widened as he gave you a small laugh, confident now. Sure, but not smug like you had known from some of the other boys. He didn’t reach for your hand, didn’t lean in. Just stayed close — close enough for you to feel the shift.

{CONFESSIONAL – LUCA}

Luca sits on the confessional bench, freshly showered, with his hair still damp, and a grin lazily crossing his features.

“Look, I didn’t come in thinking me and her would be a thing, yeah? She’s been locked in with Harry since the first week, so I didn’t even try.”

He pauses, smirks a little and looks into the camera. “But now? Door’s cracked open. She pulled me for a chat, and I’m not stupid — she’s stunning, she’s smart, and she’s not about the games. Which is rare in here.”

He leans forward, eyes glinting with something that resembled hope and a bit of change that felt scarier to initiate than to think about.

“Do I know where it’s going? Not yet. But if there’s a spark — I’ll go for it. Life’s short, the villa’s mad… might as well see what happens.”

{NARRATOR}

As the sun sets on another chaotic day in paradise, Harry’s losing grip, Tash is lying low, and Y/N might just have a new someone cracking on. And if we’ve learned anything by now, it’s that nothing stays quiet for long in this villa.

You sat near the fire pit, your knees pulled up to your chest on one of the cushions, sipping from your water bottle and letting the warmth of the flames kiss your shins. Most of the Islanders had drifted to have more chats with their respective couple, others bantered laughter which still echoed faintly from the hallway.

Footsteps approached behind you, slow and tentative, and you didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

He hovered for a second, then took the empty cushion beside you without a word—he didn’t ask to sit, didn’t ask for a chat. The space between you felt charged—not in an angry way, but a cautious way. Like the next few minutes would matter more than either of you wanted to admit.

He let out a long breath, then looked ahead at the fire.

“You alright?” he asked finally, voice low, barely above the crackle of the flames.

You nodded once, wanting to give an air of confidence that would allow him to shuffle in his own skin for a minute; you just didn’t have it in you. “Yeah.”

The silene was louder than anything else around here, you came to find. Then you turned slightly, your cheek resting on your knee, eyes on him. His curls were a little damp from his post-game shower. The firelight flickered in his eyes.

“That dare,” you commented softly. “Unfinished business, huh?”

His jaw tensed, then relaxed again. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, like the words he needed were stuck somewhere deep.

“Everyone’s been on me about this, but I just don’t know who else I was supposed to say, like,” he said eventually. “Didn’t do it to stir things. I just—” He looked at you, properly. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

You didn’t answer right away, you just chewed on the inside of your cheek as you stared at the flames in the firepit. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“I know I messed it up—like I know the Tash thing looks like—well, it looks like exactly what it is. And I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like it was the worst thing that could ever happen to our relationship, because it’s not. I’m here to build a connection.”

You looked at him carefully, watching how his shoulders slumped slightly when he said it — like it cost him something to admit out loud.

“It’s not about that Harry,” you said, not wanting to raise your quiet voice. “It’s—fuck, it’s about the trust, you know? Like I get it, I know where you’re coming from. But you were sharing a bed, you were—”

“I know.” His eyes were pained; he rolled them almost like he couldn’t believe himself at how ridiculous it all sounded. “And you had every right to. I shouldn’t’ve—Christ, I shouldn’t’ve let it get to that point with her. I told myself we were open, that I was just testing stuff like everyone else.”

He trailed off, shaking his head.

“But I wasn’t thinking about the game. I was thinking about you. And I just—I didn’t want to be the guy who came back alone and looked pathetic.”

You gave a slight frown at his word choice. “So you brought someone back to save face?”

“No.” He looked at you sharply. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I didn’t use her. I just—look, we got on. But I didn’t feel what I feel with you. And that kiss today?” He leaned back slightly, his voice lowering. “That wasn’t to be a dick. That was real—we have unfinished business because I’m attracted to you and it all just keeps coming back to being intimate and having that to hold onto.”

Your heart kicked at the memory — of his hands, his voice, his mouth whispering into your shoulder in the dark of that shared bed. The covers pulled over your heads, the soft breaths and the warmth of his fingertips as they crept over your skin in a way that felt needed.

“Everything about that meant something to me,” he added, his voice wavered a bit, but you still didn’t look him in the eyes. “And I never said it, because I thought we were taking it slow. But I shouldn’t’ve treated what we had like it was replaceable. I see that now.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap as you let your legs fall from your chest, down to the group.

“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you murmured, contemplating. “I don’t know if that door’s still open.”

“I’m not asking you to throw it wide, you know,” he said, licking over his lips with a hesitancy, “I’m just asking if it’s still on the hinges.”

That made you laugh, just a little — a tiny exhale through your nose. He took that as permission to go on.

“I want to do it right,” he said, more quietly now. “I don’t want to force it. I just want the chance to show you I can be who you thought I was — before Casa. Before all this.”

You turned your head toward him; his eyes, his expression wasn’t smug, or flirty, or even hopeful. It was sincere. It was a part of Harry that you hadn’t seen before, this sincerity that wasn’t laced in a flirtation or hunger. You bite your lip, unsure of what to say. You weren’t ready to forgive, but not ready to walk away either.

“Actions will speak louder than words,” you whispered, the only words that would come to mind as you nodded.

He nodded, to confirm with you. “I’m not rushing you. I just… needed you to know where I’m at.”

The silence stretched again — but this time, it felt gentler. Less jagged. Eventually, you both leaned back on your cushions, saying nothing more. The fire crackled between you, and the rest of the villa buzzed quietly behind you.

For the first time in days, you weren’t sure what came next. And maybe that gave you unexplained clarity that you were looking for, in an odd sense.

{LATER IN THE VILLA}

It was late enough that the villa had quieted, the sky a rich navy with stars just beginning to peek through the gaps in the night. Most of the Islanders were winding down — some lingering in the kitchen for a final snack, others getting their microphones changed or slipping into their PJs.

Tash sat outside on the large blue beanbag near the edge of the pool, her hair up in a lazy bun, shoulders bare beneath the thin straps of her pajama cami. She looked tired — not in a physical way, but in the way someone did when they were thinking a little too hard about things they weren’t quite ready to say out loud.

Mitch dropped down beside her without asking, swinging a leg up and letting his water bottle rest against his knee.

“You look like your head’s doing circles,” he said, nudging her with his elbow.

Tash gave a weak smile, sniffling in as she took in a breath. “Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying,” Mitch added, more gently this time. “Where’s your head at?”

“Don’t know, really. Guess it’s just a bit confusing because I think he’s telling her something different than what he’s telling me,” She huffed, folding her arms. “I knew something was still there with them. You can just… tell, right?”

Mitch tilted his head. “Yeah. But I don’t think that makes you a mug, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

She hesitated, pushing her glasses up on her nose, removed of the makeup that had been added. “I mean, it kind of does. He brought me back here, kissed me, slept in the same bed. And now he’s acting like she’s the only one who ever mattered, you know what I mean? Like, sure, he didn’t do everything right—but he brought me back because we had a connection, too, and now Y/N has his tail between his legs.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow, knowing those were words that would stir the villa up. “Did he tell you he was done with her?”

“No. Not in those words.” She picked at a loose thread on the beanbag. “But he let me think there was space for something. And now he’s running off whispering by the fire pit with her, acting like I’m invisible.”

There was a beat of silence, as Mitch looks over to see Harry talking with Y/N as they brushed their teeth; it looked more of a passing conversation but understanding where the pain may have come from. She looked at him, something honest flickering across her face.

Mitch nodded slowly, taking a sip of his water. “So what’s the move, then?”

Tash exhaled through her nose, looking out at the still water on the beaches beyond the villa.

“I’m not chasing anyone,” she told him firmly, with confidence and a bit of disbelief that he’d think that of her. “If he wants her, fine. But I’m not gonna be the fallback girl he cuddles up to when she ignores him.”

Mitch grinned. “There she is.”

Tash smirked at that. “I’m still in this villa. I’ve still got options. If Harry’s not gonna take me seriously, someone else might.”

Mitch leaned back on his own beanbag. “Fair play. Just… don’t let his drama dim you, yeah? You’ve got more going on than being a plot point in their love story.”

She nudged him with her foot with a giggle. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sounds of laughter drifting faintly from the dressing room. And for the first time that day—or the entire time since she had shown up, Tash didn’t feel like the villain in someone else’s romance. She felt like a girl who still had something to play for.

{THE NEXT DAY}

The villa had that still, sticky quality that made everyone move slower — sunscreen being slathered on shoulders, sunglasses traded back and forth, bodies sprawled on beanbags in soft, easy conversation. You were lying by the pool, legs dangling in the water, head tilted back toward the sun.

It felt like the calm after the storm. Truth or Dare had left its mess, but the edges were softening, and  conversations were mending or fraying quietly in corners.

Until the voice rang out:

“Islanders!”

Everyone’s heads snapped up in unison.

There, framed perfectly in the entrance, stood Maya Jama — radiant as ever in a red halter-neck sundress and heels that somehow didn’t sink into the grass. Her sunglasses were already pushed up onto her head, dark curls bouncing as she stepped down the path like she owned it.

Chaos always followed Maya, and that made your heart skip a beat as you stood and started to put yourself back together.

Ella let out a gasp, quickly walking next to you. “Oh, she’s here. That means something’s happening.”

You stood up slowly, water dripping from your legs, a jolt of nerves waking in your chest.

Maya gave a little wave, her smile knowing. “Get up, everyone! Come join me by the fire pit!”

The Islanders scrambled, towels dropped, sunglasses adjusted. Harry was the last to move, hanging back slightly, his jaw already tight.

Maya waited until everyone was in place, scanning the group with that perfect host smile — the one that said brace yourselves without needing to say it. Then she turned to the entrance.

“How is everyone doing?” She asked with reverent happiness and calmness that told you all that something was going to happen—something was coming.

Everyone gave a few grunts and nods of acknowledgement before Luca answered for the group, “Think we’ve had our share of some ups and down, but I think overall, we’re doing well.”

Maya smirked slightly before she nodded, “Good—good to hear. Well, we have a recoupling tonight, and to help with that, I thought it may be time for you all to meet two new bombshells!”

“Oh, shit—oh hell.” Gasps rippled through the firepit area instantly as your heart started to beat faster in your chest.

From behind her walked a tall, athletic guy with sandy brown hair and bright blue eyes, his white shirt open enough to show off his chest tattoos. A beat behind him came a dark-haired girl in a cobalt blue bikini top and wrap skirt, her smile confident and eyes already flicking over the group like she was scanning for prey.

“This is William and Catie,” Maya announced to the group when they came to stand next to her. “And they’re ready to make some waves.”

You barely had time to register William’s sharp jawline and the fact that Catie was already eyeing the boys like she was placing bets, before Maya continued, looking over at both of them as they looked back at her.

“William, Catie — you’ll each be taking an Islander of your choice on a date today. You’ve had a sneak peek… so who are you choosing, and who needs to get ready to go?”

William stepped forward, his grin easy, his gaze landing right on you—you’d almost wish he stopped looking at you like that, because your heart fluttered for a moment.

“I’d like to take Y/N,” he said, a bit confident. You hear a strong accent, similar to Harry’s, really. You can tell that his blood boils at that—you just know that he’s buzzing.

The breath caught in your throat — not from shock, exactly, but from the sudden shift in atmosphere. You felt Harry look at you before you even turned your head, but you kept your expression neutral.

Catie went next. Her voice was smooth. “I’d love to take Luca.”

Luca laughed, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go, then, Catie.”

The two of you were whisked away a moment later — escorted out to get ready, the villa already buzzing behind you with whispers, glances, smirks.

Back at the fire pit, Harry stood with his arms crossed, watching the path where you’d disappeared. His mouth was set in a tight line, sunglasses hiding his eyes — but everyone who knew him could see the shift.

Mitch leaned over, nudging him. “Fair play, mate. Bit of your own medicine, that.”

Harry didn’t answer. He just stared after you.

{IN A CONFESSIONAL - HARRY}

 Harry leaned back on the bench, rubbing a hand through his hair.

“She looks fit today in that tiny yellow bikini,” he admitted, lips twitching into something that might’ve been a smile — or a grimace. “The lad’s not blind.”

He paused.

“D’you know what, though? Fair play. I’ve made mistakes. I brought someone else back. So if this tests our connection — maybe it needs testing.”

But his eyes didn’t quite match his voice. Not when he added:

“I just hope she remembers what we had before everything got messy. That it meant something..”

He shook his head with a quiet laugh, looking straight into the camera.

Silence hangs for a moment; you wonder if Luca knows something more, but isn’t saying it, so you allow there to be a space held for that conversation.

Harry and Luca are good mates, but you two have always had an open communication – he’s kind, he’s funny, he’s been choosing girls that aren’t choosing him back so you both feel relatively on the same page at the moment.

Tiana and Luca were coupled prior to Casa, but she had chosen Liam instead – it was for the best, seeming that they were getting along quite better than her and Luca had prior. That left you both single in the villa now, and given a certain opportunity, it may be best to try and explore the connection to make sure that you’re safe.

“I just thought…” Luca hesitates for a moment, shrugging as his arm gets placed around the seat where you’re sitting, “Like, if anyone was gonna make it through Casa, it was you two, so it’s a real twist in the villa now.”

You press your lips together, slowly letting your lower lip press further into your mouth as you start to gnaw on it softly. You know that your lip gloss is being smudged, but you’re not sure that you can just listen to Luca tell you all of the good parts about you and Harry.

You just respond with, “Yeah. Me too.”

“He talked about you a lot before he left, said you grounded him. Said it felt different with you—dunno, obviously he kept choosing you and you kept choosing him.”

You look over, surprised at Luca’s comments and allowing them to settle on you for a moment. “I mean it’s all talk though, isn’t it? He still brought her back.”

Luca nods, taking a sip of his drink before he adds, “I mean, but then… I dunno. Something changed. Tash walked into Casa and it was like—”

He stops himself for a minute, realizing he may have over-spoke. His voice got quiet, and he looked back up at you for a moment.

“Like what?” you ask, though you’re not sure you want the answer. You squint at him softly, trying to act like you don’t need the information that may be withheld. “Go on—I need to know if he’s still not being honest.”

Luca exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Like, I heard him make a comment where he wanted to remind himself that he could still pull, ‘cause I guess you two have been a thing since the beginning and it was just a game to him, or something. To pull Tash.”

“Did he say that?” You ask quickly, almost in awe of the fact that Luca would say that so openly, like he had been holding it in. The words slam into your chest at a frequency you weren’t aware of

Harry acted like what you had wasn’t real — just something to trade in for a quick ego boost and a pretty girl in Casa, which is exactly what he had been doing without you around.  Your hands start to tremble around your glass you had been holding, so you moved it between palms to ensure Luca didn’t see your shake.

Luca clocks the shift in your face, noticing immediately that your disappointment may have turned into a bit of anger now.

“Shit,” he says quickly. “I—I mean I don’t think he did it with bad intentions or anything,”

“No, it’s fine,” you cut in, standing up too fast. “You’re right. It makes sense now.”

Luca seems to have a bit of panic that he spoke far too much, “Hey—”

“I’m gonna pull him and clear some things up.”

You don’t wait for Luca to respond. You feel the walls closing in and you need answers — real ones, not just polite excuses and hollow regret that he tried to express. You find Harry near the outdoor kitchen, talking with Tash, who’s pretending not to glance at you every five seconds.

Your heart’s thudding so hard between your rubs that you barely hear your own voice speak out to him.

“Harry,” you say firmly, giving him a look, “can I pull you for a chat quickly?”

He looks up at you with a bit of surprise crossed over his features, maybe even hopeful, and nods without a word before following you.

He follows you toward the fire pit, where the embers are still burning. You take a seat at the benches and tuck your dress under your knees before you cross your legs and let him settle for a minute before you take in a deep breath before you say what you need to say.

“So, I hear that you had told some people in Casa,” you start, voice calm but breaking beneath, “that you felt different with me. That I grounded you. That what we had was real.”

He nods, a hesitant caution over him as he started to nod a bit in agreement. “Yeah, that’s true, I did.”

“But then I’m also told that you needed some reminder,” you say, looking him straight in the eyes, “why did you need to remind yourself that you could still pull?”

The color drains from his face when you keep speaking with a confidence; his eyes glance quickly away from you which is all that you need to know. You don’t even wait for his answer before continuing.

“Because that’s what you told the boys in Casa, isn’t it? That you walked into Casa, and you let yourself forget everything we had. Just so you could prove you still had game, and that pulling Tash was some kind of game to you. So, is it a connection or is it a game?”

Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He licks over his lips and blinks a few times at the ground before he knits his brows together to try and come to a conclusion, but you can tell… he has nothing else to say.

You shake your head, blinking fast to keep the tears from falling.

“For the record, I was never holding you back, Harry. You didn’t need to pull. You just needed to stay.”

He shakes his head and opens his mouth to speak again, trying to reach for your hand. You pull back almost like his hand was on fire.

“I need to know if this was ever real for you. Or if I was just something steady until someone shinier walked in, because if that’s the case, I’m not even mad—I’m just over it and done.”

Harry’s mouth opens like he wants to argue — like he’s searching for some excuse to protect himself.

“I can understand that what you’re hearing may be hurtful, but that’s not fair,” he says, voice clipped. “You’re twisting it into something different than what it was.”

You blink slowly. “Am I? That’s not what it sounds like from what I’m hearing—unless you’re just lying.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. His jaw is clenched, his chest rising and falling faster and you can tell that he’s trying to make sense of it all.

“I didn’t plan to connect with her, alright? It wasn’t like that. It was just—Casa messes with your head, and I was making a joke about the fact that I hadn’t really pulled girls in the villa since you and I were so strong—it had nothing to do with our connection or the fact that I was bored.”

“Well, you kissed her in the Hideaway,” you say flatly, arms folded across your stomach like you’re trying to hold yourself together. “You don’t just end up there by accident, and I think it sounds a lot more than just pulling for the game.”

He exhales sharply, turning back to you. His voice rises a little.

“I was trying to figure it out! Everyone was telling me to explore, test things. I didn’t want to look like an idiot if you’d cracked on, too, which I know you did.”

You laugh once, short and disbelieving as you squint at him. “So, you did it to protect yourself—called her naughty and trouble.”

He hesitates for a moment; you can tell that he doesn’t want to lie, but doesn’t want to make anything worse, and then, softer: “Yeah. Maybe I did. I don’t think it’s that big of a deal here. I always had the intention of coming back to you here.”

That silence after his words lands like a brick. You look at him, and for a second, just a second, he sees it. The way your lip trembles at his words, and the way that your eyes are glassy with the recognition that he had hurt you. The way you’re so tired of fighting for something he already threw away. You don’t even know if you want to fight for it anymore.

Harry softly closes his eyes as he shakes his head and rests his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t—I’m just sorry. What we had wasn’t made up or fake or whatever—these past weeks weren’t just thrown away.”

You nod once, solidified in his statement with a simple statement of your own. “It might not’ve been fake. But it stopped being real the second you let her kiss you.”

That hits him almost like a bullet, so he breathes in slowly. And something in him starts to fold.

“I didn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, voice is soft to keep it between you both as he shakes his head as if he can’t believe that you’re having this conversation. “Even when I was with her, even when I was doing all that stupid flirting —"

You look at him, and for a moment you’re not angry anymore.

“You knew it would hurt me,” you whisper staring at your hands, “and you did it anyway.”

Harry’s eyes shine. “I know. I know I did. And—and I was selfish.”

“I don’t even know how to be mad anymore,” you murmur, staring at the ground. “I feel stupid. And empty. And I don’t want to cry over someone who didn’t choose me.”

Harry moves towards you on the bench, looking down at you before he lets his shoulders drop.

“I did choose you—I always chose you, but” he says, quietly desperate. “I just… didn’t respect you, and I’m sorry.”

You look at him through blurred eyes, but you can’t let the tears fall because you don’t want to give it more energy than it’s worth anymore. “Then why does it feel like you didn’t?”

He doesn’t have an answer for you, so he looks away with his tail between his legs and wants to speak but decides against it. You press your fingers under your eyes to not ruin your makeup, swallowing a sob as you look away from him.

And neither of you says anything more. Because maybe for the first time since this whole thing began, he understands that he broke something he might not be able to put back together. The silence has stretched too long as you sit there.

Harry is still crouched next to you but keeps a look on his face that he still has more to say, lips parted like he might speak — but he doesn’t. You can feel it by the way that he rubs his palms over his pants and looks away. There’s still something he’s not saying. You blink slowly, jaw tight before you swallow.

“Did you sleep in the same bed as her?”

His eyes flick away for a split second, and that’s all you need. That was the confirmation that you needed.

“Harry,” you say, louder now, standing up. “Did you sleep in bed with her?”

Nothing-- there’s nothing for him to say because he’s not going to lie to you, which makes this feel even worse in the moment.

You let out a sharp breath and shake your head. “Right.”

And then, before he can move or follow or stop you, you stand quickly from your spot on the bench and walk across the patio, heels clicking against the pavement as you make your way back to where a smaller group sits.

The rest of the villa is scattered — Ella and Tiana are on some loungers by the pool, the boys are grouped near the kitchen, and Tash is sitting on the edge of a daybed, twisting her hair around her finger, laughing at something Mitch is saying.

She looks up just in time to see you walking straight for her. The air has a bit of a shift when you realize that the villa is watching you walk to her, angrily away from Harry. Harry starts to follow you when he realizes that you are going towards Tash, he stops in his tracks.

Tash’s smile towards Mitch drops when she sees you approaching.

“Hey,” she says, cautious. You don’t waste time; your time has been wasted enough these past few weeks.

“Did you and Harry sleep in the same bed in Casa?”

The villa goes dead silent, almost like everyone had been waiting for the ball to drop and for you to have some sort of crash out.

Tash blinks, sitting up softly like she’s trying to think about what she needs to say to make her not seem like the bad guy. “What?”

“It’s a simple question, Tash, really—I’m not here to bullshit you or be mad at you because I know you’re just coming into Casa, but I just have to know because while I was making connections in Casa I was being respectful and staying out of other men’s beds because I had already made a connection here, so I just want to know.”

Tash hesitates for a moment, glances past you — toward Harry, who’s now standing with Ella and Johnny near the kitchen. Then she lifts her chin with a confidence that you appreciate.

“Yeah,” she says, a bit meek but you disregard that. “We did—just the last two nights.”

You close your eyes for half a second before you realize that you have nothing to be mad about—he’s not yours anymore, and you don’t want him. The girls react instantly; Mitch looks between the two of you like he was just there to settle if something went down.

“What the fuck,” Ella mutters under her breath. She looks at Harry before he rolls his eyes and exhales like he couldn’t believe that this had become his life.

Mitch whistles, biting on his lip as he runs a hand down his face.

You nod once, like you’ve just confirmed something you already knew, “Cool—I appreciate the honesty.”

Then you turn to walk back to where Harry is standing with Ella and Johnny; Harry’s watching from a few feet away, face pale, jaw set. You meet his eyes with a hurt that you hadn’t really felt before.

“You couldn’t even say it,” you say, voice shaking. “You let her do it for you, you’re such a fucking bullshitter.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair, muttering, “It wasn’t like that.”

You fold your arms, raising your voice at him. “It was exactly like that. You cuddled up with her at night and kissed her in the Hideaway like I wasn’t lying in bed alone thinking about you so you can get your dick up? Fucking prick.”

You can see the guilt and the remorse that crosses his face because he knows exactly what you were referring to; you two had been intimate together, and while it was still Love Island, it still hurt to know that he had decided to lay in another bed with another girl doing who knows what.

But it’s not enough to watch him feel guilty. Instead, you walk back across the villa, past every stunned face, every wide eye, and back to the daybed where Tiana’s already holding a space for you to sit down, where you can keep your shoulders back and your chin high.

You might be heartbroken, but you are not small.

{NARRATOR}

Well, that escalated quickly, didn’t it? One question turned into a full-blown villa bombshell — and it looks like Harry has finally realized what it means to fumble the bag in front of everyone. Looks like the only thing he can pull now is his hair out!

The girls are gathered in the dressing room, the air heavy and quiet with some sort of exhaustion from the sun and complete heartbreak from the fact that this could have happened to any of them. It was just a half-circle of crossed legs, red-rimmed eyes, and half-sipped glasses of water nobody really wanted.

You’re sitting on the edge of a chair, fingers clenched in your lap, hair still half-curled from earlier when you thought tonight might be fun or you might feel better about your connection.

Ella’s next to you; Tiana’s perched on the counter; Jess sits with her back against the vanity; Megan is sat at her vanity space. With another beat, all of you watch as Tash walks in last.

There’s a pause — thick enough to cut. She stands in front of the group, eyes flicking between everyone, but then settling on you.

“Can I sit?” she asks, gently, almost like she was hoping you would just yell at her instead of being nice; it may make her feel less shitty about her experience, but instead you just nod once.

She lowers herself onto the bench across from you, tucking her legs beneath her.

“I just wanna say something, okay? No drama, just… girl to girl,” She looks around at everyone, her voice a bit weary as she starts to speak again.

You don’t respond. You’re staring at the floor, jaw tight, heart pounding at what else she could reveal to you.

“I didn’t come in trying to wreck anything,” Tash continues, “Y’know, I liked Harry. He was flirty, yeah, but he never mentioned you in a way that made it feel closed off—like I knew he was in a connection, but I guess he just flirted with me more than he should have.”

Jess shifts uncomfortably. Tiana shoots a look toward Ella, but no one says anything.

“And I get it now,” Tash says. “I didn’t realize how deep it was with you two. I wouldn’t have gone there if I knew, truly.” She swallows and licks over her lips as she shakes her head. “But I didn’t kiss him thinking I was stealing someone’s boyfriend, you know what I mean?”

Still, you say nothing. The room is quiet as they’re waiting for you to speak.

Tiana shakes her head instead before taking the initiative, “It’s just muggy, innit? Like he knew that was going to humiliate Y/N and did it anyways, you know.”

“I just think the bed thing was mad disrespectful,” Ella says with no disregard, “Like, just knowing the context of it all—I don’t know.”

“I just feel like an idiot,” you say shrugging before you look up at Tash, “It’s fine. It’s not your fault—I get he wanted to test our connection, and he did it.”

You glance around the room, eyes darting like you’re trying to make sense of your own place here.

“I just feel stupid for trusting him so effortlessly. For sleeping alone every night, for saying no to other boys while he was cuddled up with you.”

Ella scoots closer, her hand brushing your back.

“I thought we were solid. I thought we were the couple people looked at and went, ‘Yeah, they’re real.’ And now?” Your voice catches as you start to take your makeup off with a wipe to try and hide the fact that tears are threatening, “I feel like a joke.”

Tash looks genuinely upset by the fact that she could have done something wrong. “You’re not. Honestly, I wouldn’t have—”

“I know,” you cut in, gently but firmly as you look at her. “I know you didn’t do it to hurt me—please don’t take it personally.”

You take a deep breath, but it doesn’t steady you. “It just hurts anyway.”

The girls all stay quiet as they begin to get ready for bed, and they know sometimes silence is safer than platitudes. Jess leans over and grabs a tissue, handing it to you.

“You don’t owe anyone forgiveness tonight,” Ella says softly, almost privately. “Not him. Not her. You just do what you need.” She glances toward Tash who’s started to look through her items to get ready for bed. “And to be fair, she showed up. That means something.”

You nod again, but your voice is barely there now.

“I just need to not feel like I got played.”

Tiana leans over from the counter, “Then don’t – you just need to feel like a girl who gave her heart to someone who didn’t know how to hold it because he’s a lad.”

You press the tissue to your face and smile, just slightly. The first honest thing you’ve felt in hours.

+++

The night’s gone quiet now, most of the girls have disappeared into the dressing room with Y/N when she started to walk off. Tash is nowhere to be seen, either, which gives Harry a bit of anxiety if he’s being honest. The fire pit crackles low in the background.

Harry sits on one of the beanbags, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, palms scrubbing over his face. Luca lounges next to him, arms behind his head, watching him with a slow, almost sympathetic blink.

Mitch and Ronan are there too, passing a bottle of water back and forth. No one says anything at first, the only thing heard is Harry exhaling loudly.

“You alright, bruv?” Luca asks quietly before glancing over at Harry.

Harry doesn’t look up. “No. Not really.”

Ronan whistles low. “Yeah… that was rough.”

Mitch nods, stretching out. “She looked gutted, man. Like properly heartbroken.”

Harry finally sits back, dragging his hands down his face, “I didn’t think it would get that bad—I’m honest to God, I didn’t think that the bed thing would come up.”

Luca shrugs, letting an arm rest behind his head. “I don’t think you were thinking at all.”

That lands to hurt him like a jab, and Harry is silent.

Ronan, trying to soften the blow, leans forward and shakes his head to try and make sense of what Harry did, “Look, Casa was a head-fuck. You get in your own head. Everyone’s buzzing around saying ‘test the connection,’ and you start convincing yourself it’s what you should do—and to be fair, Tash came onto you very strongly.”

Mitch chimes in, “Yeah. Like, I see both sides. You didn’t do anything that loads of lads haven’t done in there. But—”

He glances toward the villa. “It seemed that you had something real with her, like more than that sexual chemistry, you know.”

Harry nods slowly, contemplating what he had in front of him. “I know.”

Luca gestures vaguely. “And Tash? I mean… she’s sound. Not the one you’ve been sleeping next to since day one. Not the one who never cracked on, either.”

Harry’s eyes flick up. “That’s the part that’s killing me, you know? I kept thinking, what if she was moving mad on her end? What if I came back looking like a mug?”

The boys know that there was the potential to have this moment; there had to be communication, and they knew that Harry felt just as guilty, but scared that he was going to come back to Y/N also testing the connection and keeping another guy there.

Ronan spoke up, “Mate, you came back with a girl. You can’t be shocked she’s stepped back at bit.”

Harry slumps back again, rubbing his chest like it physically aches. “I messed it. And now she’s looking at me like she doesn’t even know me.”

Luca shifts, arms crossed. “That’s what happens when you break someone’s trust. You don’t just get to explain it away.”

Harry nods again, slower this time. “I know.”

The boys sit with that for a moment.

Then Ronan, a little softer: “You think you’ll pull her back?”

Harry lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know. I want to. I’d drop everything with Tash tonight if it meant I could fix it with her. But… I think she’s already gone in her head so I’m like… I don’t want to mess shit up with Tash now if it’s really over for us. Because Tash is mad cool too.”

Mitch leans back, sighing. “Well, if you want to try — you better show her something real. No more flirting, no more excuses. Show her you mean it.”

Harry looks down at his hands, quiet. For once, he doesn’t have a comeback. There’s no jokes or smirks coming from him as he feels the sting in the back of his eyes. He’s just a boy who fumbled the one person who made this villa feel like something more than just a game.

The villa buzz has faded into soft rustling — hairbrushes against tangles, toothbrushes tapping against sinks, and the occasional low whisper between couples slipping under the duvet.

You’re in the dressing room with the girls, wiping off your makeup in silence while Ella hands you a clean face cloth. Tiana squeezes your shoulder on the way to the bedroom, but no one says much.

No one needs to say anything at all to excuse what’s happened and how it continues to move throughout the villa. There’s a dynamic switch that has happened, mostly because the individuals in the villa that saw a light in you both is now gone. The damage has already been done, and there is now a shift in the mood.

Cut to the main bedroom, where the lights are dimmed and the duvets are already turned down when the islanders start to move into the sheets. A few of the couples are climbing into bed, bare legs tangling beneath cool sheets.

Tash walks in quietly after putting on her pajamas and rinsing her face and taking off her makeup, pulling her long hair up into a bun. She pads over to her side of the bed, the bed that her and Harry will ultimately share tonight.

He’s already there, sitting on the edge, shirtless, elbows on knees as he faces away from her. She starts to lift the covers to move into her spot. He gently leans back and gives her a soft look as he rubs his hand down his jaw.

“Don’t take it personally, yeah? I’m gonna sleep alone in the Hideaway tonight.”

Tash blinks, confused at his words before he speaks again.

“Just for tonight. Think it’s better. Out of respect.”

She holds his stare for a second, then nods and doesn’t say anything more. She understand the consequences that sharing a bed tonight could have—also, it starts to affirm that she had come in at the wrong time.

You’re lying on your side, facing the room, back to Ella, eyes half-closed but not sleeping—you feel so exhausted but barely tired at all.

Harry’s sitting at the edge of his bed one minute, hoodie in hand, slides cover his feet as he just stands with a smooth and slow motion. He picks up his water bottle from the floor and walks toward the door. The click of it opening slices through the silence of the main bedroom.

A few heads lift instinctively at the sound, and seeing Harry leave the room without Tash. She covers herself back up in the blankets, but the other islanders watch.

Ella turns slightly in her bed; Luca glances over his shoulder to see the noise; Jess lifts her head halfway, brows furrowed.

Even you look up — just enough to track Harry’s silhouette slipping through the door.

You notice that Tash didn’t follow behind. But once he’s left there’s no awkward whispers or explanations or realizations. But everyone feels it, and no one says a word.