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And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in the center of a room full of women whose relationships with Hayes suddenly feel both more real and more artificial than ever.
One by one, they disperse—Gabby and Luna to comfort Kavita, Annabelle to the bathroom to cry—which I’ll let her do before I beg for her to forgive me—and only Serena remains, crossing the room to stand beside me.
“Well,” she says quietly, “that was interesting.”
I sink back onto the couch, exhaustion hitting me like a physical force. “That’s one word for it. Do you hate me?”
“No. Being intimate is part of dating and the human experience. I’m a realist.”
“You really are.” I manage a smile. “Anyway, I might be a goner at tomorrow’s Lock & Key ceremony. Did you see his face? It was like he was looking at a stranger.”
Serena settles beside me, her expression thoughtful. “Or like he was looking at someone he cares about but can’t show it. There’s a difference.”
I want to believe her. Want to believe that Hayes’s distance is performance rather than regret. That last night in the SUV wasn’t the beginning and end of something real.
But as the night deepens around us, as the villa quiets with two fewer contestants, all I can think about is the deliberate way Hayes avoided my gaze. The careful precision with which he spoke of “multiple connections.”
Two more weeks until the final key. Two more weeks of this exquisite uncertainty. And no promise that the man who shared that SUV with me is the same one who will stand at the end, key in hand, ready to choose.
22
The Unceremony
BRIELLE
The sun slices through the villa windows like a judgment, harsh and unforgiving. I’ve been avoiding mirrors all morning, not wanting to confront the puffy-eyed stranger who’s replaced me since last night’s confession. Confession. That’s a funny word for it—as if admitting to a connection with Hayes was some kind of sin rather than the most honest moment I’ve had since stepping out of that limo weeks ago. But the way Hayes looked through me afterward, like I was suddenly transparent, has left me feeling hollowed out, a shell of myself wandering these terra-cotta halls while my brain asks the same question on repeat: What have I done?
The villa feels eerily quiet after Kavita’s dramatic exit. I talked to Annabelle, and although her words said she understood, her face said otherwise. The remaining women, including Serena, have scattered to their respective corners—processing, plotting, preparing for tonight’s elimination. Two more going home tonight, only four keys remain, and the growing certainty that despite surviving last night’s revelation, I’ve somehow already lost.
I trace my fingers along the cool stucco wall as I walk, my injured arm still aching beneath its bandage. The physical pain feels almost welcome compared to the ache behind my ribs. Hayes’s deliberate distance. His careful neutrality. His amazing date with Luna.
“Looking a bit lost there, Penguin Girl.” Skye materializes around a corner, today’s outfit an improbable combination of flowing crimson fabric and chunky silver jewelry that somehow works on her.
I attempt a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Actually, I was looking for you.”
Her eyebrows rise, but she nods toward a small courtyard tucked away from the main areas of the villa. “Let’s chat where the walls don’t have production assistants hiding behind them.”
I follow her out into the sun-dappled space, grateful for the relative privacy. Stone benches curve around a small fountain where water trickles over colorful mosaic tiles. Ivy climbs the surrounding walls, creating a canopy of green leaves overhead.
“Spill it.” Skye settles onto one of the benches and pats the space beside her.
I sink down beside her, suddenly unsure where to start. The words tumble out anyway, unfiltered and raw. “Hayes won’t look at me. Since last night, since I told everyone about our... moment, he’s barely made eye contact. He’s pulling away, andI don’t know if it’s for show, or if he regrets what happened between us.”
Skye’s expression softens, the showmanship mask slipping to reveal something more genuine beneath. “Oh, darling Brielle. I’m sorry. He might be having a freak out. But remember the carnival. How much he loved your penguin costume, the chess match with August, Hayes literally throwing himself off a balcony to save you from bulls—that was all real.”
“It felt real.”
“Here’s the thing about reality television,” Skye leans closer. “Everything is simultaneously more and less real than it appears. The emotions are heightened, the stakes inflated, but the connections—the real ones—they linger long after the cameras stop rolling.”
“So what do I do?” I say, hating how desperate I sound. “How do I know if Hayes still feels something strong for me?”
Skye considers this, her fingers absently toying with one of her chunky silver rings. “You don’t. Not yet. Not while you’re still in this bubble.” She gestures around us, encompassing the villa, the show, the entire artificial construct we’re trapped in. “Hayes is under enormous pressure. From Darren, from production, from his own sense of obligation to complete this journey. And now he’s been publicly exposed as becoming intimate, which makes everything more complicated.”
“But the distance—”
“Is probably his way of trying to maintain the integrity of the show,” Skye interrupts gently. “If he suddenly ignored everyone else and focused only on you, what would be the point of the next two weeks? How he’d just have to play with the other women’s emotions. You wouldn’t want someone who’d do that. Would you?”
“No.” I hadn’t considered this perspective. But it still hurts, still feels like betrayal after the intimacy we shared. “But howdo I know he hasn’t changed his mind? That Luna’s date and Kavita’s dramatic exit haven’t made him reconsider everything?”