Page 73 of Hot Summer

“Thanks. Anyway”—Cas set the bottles in a neat row and poured herself a glass of sangria—“what’s your big-picture dream? Like, in five years, what do you think your ideal life would look like?”

“I’d be midthirties by that point,” Ada said, dishing up heaping portions of salad into the white, flower-trimmed bowls the producers had set out for the occasion, “which is kind of scary to think about. But I’d love to see my stationery business thriving—I don’t quite know how much more I could grow it without hiring a team, though, so maybe that’s the dream. A small team, a little office space. Maybe a physical store?”

“Where would you want the store to be?”

“In my dream of dreams, it’s back home in Brighton,” Ada said. Even as she said it, her voice went all wistful, eyes sparkling with hope. “I’d love to get some little storefront in the Lanes, maybe live upstairs, and then every day after I close up, walk down and eat dinner on the beach. We used to do that a lot growing up, and the smell of the salt, the sound of the waves on the rocks... it was magic.”

“That does sound like a dream.”

From the very first time she’d stepped foot in London (at fourteen when she lied to her parents, skived off school, and caught the train because she just had to see all the “danger” they kept telling her about) she’d felt, in her heart, that she was going to live there forever. It had spoken to something in her, something that was dreadfully ignored back home in Surrey, and once she left school, she made her way to London and never looked back.

But hearing Ada talk about Brighton—the picture she painted and the love in her voice—it was making Cas wonder if it might be worth considering a few other options for her future.

“Right? I think I’ll probably still be in London for another few years, but I’d really love to go back there one day.”

“Anything else you see for yourself?”

“I’d like to be in a committed relationship, too. Married, I think, but I’m not dead set on it, I just want a commitment,” Ada added, carefully studying Cas’s reaction. “But you were engaged... Is that something you see for yourself?”

Cas hummed. “Honestly, that was such a weird time in my life. Obviously it didn’t work out and I thought I’d never think about dating anyone seriously again and then, well...” She held Ada’s gaze for a few moments before she looked down at her salad bowl in her lap.

“It’s something I’m interested in again,” Cas finally said, looking up. She found Ada still staring at her, and a small smile formed on Ada’s lips as their eyes met. “A commitment.”

“Here’s to that, then,” Ada said. She grabbed her glass and held it up. “To commitment.”

“To commitment,” Cas repeated.

And, gently, they clinked.

24

It was almost easy to forget about everything going on in the background that week.

Bombshell Week was one of the most stressful times in the villa most summers—all the lovers were on edge, watching one another like hawks, trying to determine if their partner was thinking about leaving them and re-partnering with someone else. There were clandestine conversations in hidden corners, stolen kisses on the balcony, and while Cas was certain all that must have been happening this summer, she was in her own bubble.

Holding hands with Ada across the divide when they were in bed at night, watching the boys run around in the garden in the afternoon, it was easy to let herself imagine that there was nothing she needed to be thinking about. Nothing she needed to be worrying about.

There was always the possibility, she supposed, that Ada was thinking about re-partnering with someone else, but Cas didn’t know when Ada would possibly have the time to be organizing anything of the sort. They were practically glued together that week, and when they weren’t, they had long, detailed debriefs about every ridiculous thing that had happened while they’d been apart.

It was a little embarrassing how heart-on-her-sleeve Cas was. Kicking her feet as she sat on the kitchen island, watching Ada make eggs for breakfast, tossing Freddie an apple with a big ol’ smile on her face like a cartoon character. Laughing loudly, absurdly, as Ada, Tia, and Sienna did a “blindfold makeup challenge” with Lucy, Rita, and Gemma on a particularly slow afternoon. Cas couldn’t even remember the last time she’d been like this, so giddy and excited and optimistic. Like she thought everything was working out in her favor.

She couldn’t wait to re-partner on Saturday.

They’d all been lounging on the grass Friday afternoon—Charlie and Rita were off somewhere, but everyone else was playing Musical Slaps, a game Freddie had invented. There were eight of them left sitting in a circle, legs crossed, palms out on their knees, waiting patiently for the next song to begin.

“Okay.” Freddie was sitting on a deck chair, his back to them so he couldn’t see and unfairly bias his singing, according to Leo. “Get ready... set... go!”

Freddie burst out into a very off-key cover of Beyoncé and, one by one, each contestant in the circle slapped palms with the person next to them. They picked up speed as they went round, the hits becoming quicker, sharper the longer Freddie sang, and the four eliminated contestants ran around, causing as much distraction as humanly possible in an attempt to throw people off. Any moment Freddie was going to stop and—

Freddie abruptly stopped singing, and at the last possible moment, Lucy moved her hand away so Gemma missed and caught her thigh instead.

“Oh fuck!” Gemma crossed her legs tighter and rolled backward out of the circle. “This game is hard.”

Femi’s phone beeped and he snatched it swiftly off the ground.

“I’ve got a text! ‘Lovers—tonight, to celebrate the end of Bombshell Week, we’re going to skip the rankings and host a partnering ceremony instead. Anyone not chosen to be in a partnership at the end of the ceremony tonight will be going home.’ ”

Freddie’s phone beeped.

---