Page 26 of Hot Summer

Chloe hummed and there was more rustling of papers over the line. “Is it fair to say that you and Ada have bonded quite a bit already?”

“I think that’s fair.”

“Do you think it was okay for Brad to kiss Tia, then?”

There were so many layers to this question. It seemed so simple on the surface—did she think that Brad was within his rights to kiss Tia or not—but the more Cas thought about it, the more she realized that there was no clear way to answer this, at least not within the social guidelines of the show.

“I think that everyone is well within their rights to get to know whoever they want. That’s the entire point of being here, right?” She pressed her lips together as she tried to formulate her next sentence. “My issue with the whole thing, though, comes from the fact that Brad was talking to Ada like she was the sun itself since they were partnered up yesterday afternoon and then he turned around and literally tried to inhale Tia.

“If he wanted to be open to knowing people and exploring and whatever, that’s fine, but he should have made that clear to her. He should have said that he thought she was cool or whatever the hell he thinks about her, but he also should have said that he wanted to get to know other people. Though, honestly—”

She knew she was spiraling a little out of control, but she was getting carried away by her frustration now.

“I actually think that so many men come on this show and do exactly what Brad just did. They act like the woman they’re partnered up with, whoever she is, is the best thing that ever happened to them, only to turn around and snog the hell out of the next person they see that even remotely takes their fancy. They talk about finding a connection, but none of them actually make a real effort. You’re not making an effort if you’re going around snogging everyone.

“I know they like to talk about it like it’s some test”—she did the world’s most sarcastic set of air quotes—“but that’s—I’m sorry, that’s bollocks. You know how you feel or you don’t, you don’t need to shove your tongue down someone else’s throat to figure it out. And if you do, maybe you need help, I don’t know.”

She stopped abruptly, nearly swallowing her own tongue in her haste. She was angry, yes, but there was no reason for her to let it all loose like this. Not in the second episode. Not before people really knew who she was.

She exhaled sharply and with such force she was surprised she didn’t fog up the lens of the camera.

“I don’t know. Whatever. Anyway, I think he just needs to have a conversation with her.”

Chloe was quiet for a long moment, so long that Cas actually started to think that Chloe had either left or was dismissing her without so much as a goodbye. Finally, the speaker clicked on and Chloe’s voice spilled into the confession hut.

“Fair enough. Thanks, Cas, that’s all we need from you today. Can you send in Sienna, please?”

Cas struggled to her feet and, with a perfunctory wave at the camera, made her way out of the confessional.

9

At the start of the week, Friday had seemed like a thousand years away. And there were definitely moments that dragged, but for the most part?

It was blink and you miss it, that first week.

It was a quick study in getting to learn one another’s habits, too. How Femi rolled out of bed and ran to the kitchen to put the kettle on before anyone else was awake, how Jayden tended to steal all the pillows in the bedroom to make a stack he could lean on while he and Sienna had their morning conversation. The way Maddison sang to herself as she put on hand cream, how Tia came skipping in every morning from the extra bed in the living room and dove into bed next to Sienna.

The way Ada would lie, stretched out, duvet kicked off, staring at the ceiling for the first few minutes after she opened her eyes.

Cas had expected it would be strange, sharing a house with nine, then ten, other people, and in a lot of ways, it was. No matter where she was, no matter what time of day, Cas was either sitting with someone or she could hear shouting and laughter and conversation all across the house. It was impossible to sit alone with your thoughts in a space like this, surrounded constantly, talking constantly, being drawn into the beach hut constantly to dissect your feelings, real or otherwise, with the producers.

There were only two toilets, too, and it was humbling, having to lift your microphone and whisper that you needed to use the toilet so they could unlock the door for you. It was nice that there weren’t cameras in that part of the bathroom, but god, she hated having to ask like she was three years old.

But it was remarkably easy to get used to, sharing this space with so many people. Even the worst parts, like fighting it out every night to get a shower (because if you were any later than, like, fourth, you were guaranteed cold water), weren’t so bad.

It was the parties, though, that were the biggest shock of the season so far. She’d always thought these parties looked fun, like they stretched out all evening, but in reality, they all met their two-drink maximum about thirty minutes in, the dance sequence lasted for four songs and four songs only, and then they all floated around the garden until the Voice of God told them they were allowed to go to bed at some ungodly hour of the morning. It was quite the opposite of the sort of events she was used to.

Her favorite part about being here, by far, was the morning, when the boys brought their coffees up to the change room off the bathroom and the girls had a gossip while getting ready for the day. Cas was usually still waking up, and thus, silent, but she liked how giggly and chatty everyone was in the morning, liked the little antics they planned for their day. One such antic: Femi plopping down in front of Sienna that morning and declaring that he was going to try to do her makeup.

Sienna eyed Femi suspiciously as he pumped a deep pool of foundation onto the back of his hand. “You better not make me look like a fucking clown.”

“I’ve got three sisters,” Femi said. “I know how to put makeup on.”

“Having sisters doesn’t mean you automatically know how to do makeup,” Ada said. She was smearing a heavy layer of sun cream into her cheeks, her freckles cast white as she attempted to blend it all into her skin. “My brother doesn’t have the first clue about makeup.”

“I actually do, though.” Femi dotted the foundation brush into the product and started swiping it across Sienna’s cheeks. “My sisters used to make me model for them, like, regularly. I was their little doll.”

His technique wasn’t perfect, but Sienna ended up with an actually decent face of makeup after about half an hour’s work.

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