Page 23 of The Compound

I didn’t know what Sam had been before coming here, where he lived or what job he had, or what kind of family, but I knew that he was an impressive guy.

I think the same things that attracted me to Sam were the things that intimidated Tom: he was strong and smart and capable.

Even though I couldn’t really picture Sam outside of the compound, I knew that I wasn’t the kind of person he would be with outside of the show.

I wondered, though, if I might be the kind of person that he would consider being with here, even if only for a brief period.

I also knew that downstairs there was Ryan, who wanted me, and I knew that we made sense together—we were precisely the sort of couple who I would have paired together if I had been watching.

And yet, I was fairly sure that Ryan’s interest began and ended with his physical desire for me.

I couldn’t blame him; I felt the same way about him.

“Would you have sex in the compound?” I asked.

He looked up. “What?”

“I know some of the other couples are doing it. I’m not sure about having sex with the cameras there—but, on the other hand, don’t we do everything else with the cameras watching us?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I hadn’t really considered it.” He picked up another towel. “You’re thinking about it, I take it?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’m weighing the pros and cons.

” I was hoping for a reaction from him. I needed to know if he thought about me, if he desired me in any way at all.

I felt sure of Ryan’s desire for me and it made me feel assured, and even powerful, at times.

Wanting Sam but not knowing if he wanted me—it was as intoxicating as it was infuriating.

Sam’s gaze rested on me for a moment, then he looked away.

“I wouldn’t feel that you had to sacrifice anything for the sake of viewers, or for the sake of securing your place.

If we’re sacrificing more than we get, we’re defeating the purpose of being here.

” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Listen. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.

I was hoping to get a chance to apologize for the way I spoke to you a while back. ”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“I didn’t feel good about it. I didn’t mean what I said, about our conversations being transactional. Or maybe I did, but that’s okay. We’re forced to be transactional here; that’s the nature of the way we’re living. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your options open.”

The sound of raised voices drifted up the stairs. We fell quiet and listened. It was Andrew and Tom, arguing in the living room. I had known that it was a matter of time before they fought: they were both strong-willed, but opposite in nearly every other way.

Sam and I went down to see what the fuss was. Walking down the stairs, I was conscious of Sam behind me. I let my hand skim down the length of the banister, my nails freshly painted, my fingers long and slender.

Tom and Andrew were standing in front of the big screen, squabbling. Tom wanted to do a task, and Andrew was saying it could wait. They didn’t notice us standing at the door.

Andrew was nodding slowly, his hands on his hips, the picture of a sympathetic supervisor. “Look, Tom. I see where you’re coming from. But there’s no need to rush everyone. We’ll get to it when we get to it.”

“We still don’t have a door. ”

“We’re not going to get a door from this task.” He gestured at the screen, which read:

Task: Every boy and girl must reveal their professions

Reward: Table

After reading the instruction, I looked at Sam. He met my eye briefly, before we both looked away. “Let’s put it to a vote,” Sam said. The boys looked up, startled.

“All right,” Andrew said after a pause. “I vote to leave the task until later, after the sun has set.” He put his hand in the air and looked at Sam and me expectantly.

“I meant let everyone vote,” Sam said.

Andrew put his hand down. “Right,” he said. He blew the whistle. Tom looked at him with irritation. It was unclear if Tom was irked by Andrew using the whistle, or if it bothered him that he didn’t have one.

Eight people agreed to do the task, and six voted against. I voted against. I was curious about everyone’s jobs, but I had heard Vanessa suggest that I was an influencer, and I liked the idea that that was my reputation.

When I compared everyone’s actual jobs to my original guesses, I’d got only one correct: Andrew was the office manager at an IT company.

Some of the jobs surprised me. Candice, who I thought might have been a model or a minor actress, worked in human resources at an insurance company.

Ryan was a lifeguard, which explained his strong tan and physique.

Sam was an architect. He met my eye when he said it, and it confirmed to me that I had made the wrong decision, that I should have tried harder with Sam rather than settle for Ryan.

But I wondered, looking away in confusion, if I only felt this confidence about my preference for Sam now that I knew that he had a better job than Ryan.

I liked to believe that such things had no bearing on my judgment, but I couldn’t be sure.

By that logic, I wondered if Sam liked me less now that he knew what I did for work.

I looked at Ryan, who was joking with Marcus and Carlos.

By all accounts, we were better suited: all beauty and no brains.

Some people’s jobs were unsurprising. Jacintha was a student, completing a master’s in engineering. I had known that she was smart and felt vaguely proud of her.

I was reluctant to reveal my own job, the least interesting and the least impressive. When it was my turn to speak, I said, in an offhand way, “I’m in retail. I sell makeup in a department store.”

“I knew it,” Mia said.

Mia was a social worker; unexpected, as she didn’t seem to like people that much.

Tom worked in finance, which was a shock to no one.

Susie was a waitress, and Evan was, to everyone’s surprise, a professional golfer.

Carlos was a personal trainer and Marcus worked in media.

Becca was a student, though she phrased it as “reading history at university.”

Vanessa revealed that she worked as a brand ambassador for a popular alcoholic beverage. Susie said, “Like, you’re one of those girls who goes around with expensive shots at the bar?”

“No,” Vanessa said, not looking at her. “I am a brand ambassador. ”

It was the most revealing information we had found out about each other and, all in all, I preferred not knowing.

It felt strange to me that Evan, who spent half of his day on the trampoline and the other half inventing new cocktails, was a professional athlete.

I had thought that Ryan was maybe a football player, or a boxer.

It was hard to believe that he was a lifeguard: he didn’t even like going in the pool that much.

I’d had an idea of everyone in the compound, and, all in all, I would have preferred to have gone back to my preconceptions of everyone.

We voted again on whether or not to do another task that evening. We agreed it was enough for the day and went back to doing our Personal Tasks. I received new clothes, which were sorely needed.

In bed that night, Ryan pressed up against me and kissed me for a long time.

I let his hands wander and tried to be quiet as we carried on.

I was shy, though there probably wasn’t much need for it.

I had heard noises in the dark for a number of nights, and had attributed it to people shifting in beds, or getting up to use the bathroom.

But that night, there were the distinctive noises of breathy whispers and moaning, and the sounds horrified me.

I sprung away from Ryan when I heard Jacintha and Carlos moaning in the bed across fromus.

“No,” I said. “I’m sorry. No.”

He rolled away, and we went to sleep shortly after. I couldn’t stop wondering what everyone’s Personal Tasks had been, and how many of them had been sexual.

The next day, I looked at the others with a critical eye: their hair seemed shinier, their clothes nicer, their tans brighter. But perhaps I was imaginingit.

—

The next couple of days unfolded in a similar way.

We did one or two tasks a day. We got some useful things: a huge sack of peanuts, a beanbag, aloe vera, toothpaste, fruit.

But mostly we focused on our Personal Tasks, which were getting better and better all the time.

It was a happy period. We drifted around the compound, moving from the sun to the shade, showing each other our rewards, careful not to reveal what we had done to get them.

If anyone received food or drink as a reward we always shared it.

Evan had earned an inflatable bed, and he spent probably five hours a day floating around on it, a fluorescent drink in his hand.

When he wasn’t using it he gave it to Susie, and when she wasn’t using it the rest of us took turns.

Tom still tried to coax us to do tasks, but Andrew insisted we needed to relax. “We’re here to have a nice time,” he reminded us more than once. “We don’t need to constantly be insouciant.”

We were free now to spend time in our couples.

Better again, there was time to discuss the couples in detail with the other girls.

All the girls gathered for discussions on the patio with cups of iced coffee, except for Vanessa, who had made it clear that she was “not a girl’s girl,” and instead spent her time in the gym with Tom and Ryan.

Vanessa and Tom were coupled up together, and so far as I could tell the only thing that they had in common was their commitment to high-intensity weight training.

I wondered if they went to bed and talked about protein supplements.