Page 33 of The Compound

“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 downthe 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 adoor.”

“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 brandambassador.”

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 along 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.”

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