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Melanie has never felt so fucking humiliated.
Not even before the villa, where she’d been played by a dozen different men who slid into her life with dazzling smiles and smooth one liners, then paid her dust when the chase was over and she started to actually feel something. Not even when she was bigger, and the guys in high school would ask her out as a joke. Even then, she had never felt so small as she does now.
Watching Sincere on the big screen with that stupid fucking grin on his face tell Sol with clarity, with confidence, with that fake, sickly sweet sincerity he speaks with whenever he tells Melanie anything that this, she, is what he wants — Melanie taps out before the clip even ends.
The other girls are angrier than her. Everything is muted and it’s funny because she still hears every voice except for his and her brain is a whirlwind and she wants to stand, curse him out, tell him he’s a piece of shit, how she doesn’t deserve this, but it is a fucking cycle and she knows it’ll just fall on deaf ears and somehow he’ll get her to come crawling back into his arms. The cycle is in her blood; her mother and father were just the same. Love, hatred, exhaustion, disappointment. Eventually you give up and you settle because there is no one else that can give you what you had with them. When it’s bad it’s bad, but when it’s good it’s so good, and Melanie has never had anything good that has stayed, not like Sincere.
Melanie has no one else in this villa. She’s stuck to him like a mouse stuck in a trap and she can’t help but shrink into herself, hands trembling in her lap.
“At least you know you weren’t crazy,” Aniya says to her, and Melanie’s voice sounds shot when she says, defeated,
“I always knew I wasn’t crazy.”
Predictacbly, Sincere tries to pull her for a chat after movie night. Everyone’s on hots with each other; the villa is in flames. Melanie should be angry, but she’s just so tired and she wants to get this over with, so she follows him down to the deck and stares into the water as he gives her his spiel.
It’s always the same. He fucks up and they argue and he apologizes but never really takes any accountability. Melanie is self aware, probably to a fault, and yet here she stands, hearing him out for what feels like the millionth time.
She wants to laugh when he brings his hand up, in the way he always does when she knows he’s pulling shit out of his ass. “I did say those things, Melanie, and I’m sorry, but at the end of the day—”
“You still choose me?” Melanie murmurs, leaning against the railing. The water looks beautiful, a dark crystal blue. She wonders how deep it goes, how cold it is, how it’d feel if she jumped in, if she’d sink down under until she could feel the sand on her back. The wind brushes softly against the dried tear tracks on her cheeks she hasn’t bothered to wipe off. She can’t see the look on Sincere’s face, but he goes quiet, just for a moment. Maybe he’s realized how predictable he is, or maybe he finally feels bad for being a pathological liar to every single girl he’s spoken to in the villa. Now that Melanie has seen his truest colors, there isn’t any way he can paint himself to fool her into believing a word he says again.
Melanie can’t say she really cares anymore.
“Yes, Melanie. I choose — look at me. Can you look at me? Please?”
She can’t take her eyes off the water. It’s hypnotizing, the way the waves move ever so gently. They remind her of the water in the Dominican Republic, the nights spent at the beach with her grandma, when her parents would fight and she’d yearn to be somewhere calm. Her grandma always knew. Something calm washes over her, and her body relaxes — as much as it can when you’re hyperaware that your every move is being recorded and streamed to the entirety of America.
“She doesn’t wanna fucking talk to you, Sincere.”
Melanie’s eyes snap up, and there’s Kayda — eyes red, probably from whatever chat she just had with Zach, but still standing so tall and secure. Protective. Melanie would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous of her, even now, after their beef has long been squashed and Melanie knows how soft Kayda’s lips are.
She still can’t really believe that happened.
Sincere looks like he wants to argue. His eyes bat between Melanie and Kayda, and right as he opens his mouth, Melanie says, “just go, Sincere. Please.” He narrows his eyes, like the conversation isn’t over yet, but his shoulders droop and he walks away. Melanie braces herself for tomorrow.
“Fuck.” Kayda huffs, taking his spot. “He doesn’t know when to stop.” She stands closer than Sincere did, their shoulders brushing.
Melanie feels her eyes drifting away from the water, to the prettier sight next to her.
She wonders how exactly they got here. Melanie was a bit of a dick during that first week of Kayda being a bombshell. She’s petty and Kayda’s pettier so they inevitably clashed, but from the dust emerged probably one of the best friendships she’s ever had in maybe her entire life, second to Aniya. But something about Kayda is different, and Melanie doesn’t like the way she can’t put her finger on how she feels.
Sincere is so predictable, and while he sucks the life force out of her, that’s what makes him easy to go back to. Kayda is something else entirely, inexplicable and comforting and someone she is sick to her stomach with envy towards.
Kayda swallows, and Melanie’s eyes can’t help but catch the way her neck bobs and her jaw tenses ever so slightly. That’s when she realizes Kayda is staring at her, too — those hooded green eyes that are as alluring as they are dangerous.
If maybe they had just a minute alone, if there wasn’t a camera ten feet away capturing every second of this interaction, Melanie would pull her in, do something she can’t take back. She’s impulsive, and the nerves in her hands are alight with the desire to do something — kiss Kayda in a place she knows everyone can see, not for the first time — except the implications are different this time. It’s not just a fun kiss during a challenge. If they were to kiss right here, after today, it would mean something.
Melanie has always taken something more seriously than she should.
So, she settles for something the audience — and Kayda – can take whichever way they want. “Can I have a hug?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to break the way it does, but it just kind of does.
Kayda says nothing as she pulls Melanie in, face fitting in the crook of her neck like a puzzle piece clicking into place, but she feels it by how Kayda’s arms wrap around her: of course you can. Melanie breathes her in. Vanilla, she thinks. She smells good, so good, even after movie night. Melanie feels like a mess — disheveled hair, make-up smudged by tears, shaky hands — and Kayda’s so put together in the way she holds Melanie tight, maybe so they both won’t fall apart.
Kayda is comfort, and Kayda is unease, and Kayda is green.
Melanie’s kind of already claimed her spot in Soul Ties when she wants to sleep alone, so she doesn’t expect Kayda to already be there, fully ready for bed. That pang of jealousy hits her again, because Kayda has no right to look as beautiful as she does, lashes off and bare faced. Melanie’s eyes are still puffy from earlier.
“Are you sleeping here tonight?” Melanie asks, hesitant to leave, but also willing to let Kayda have the spot just for tonight. Maybe she’ll sleep in Say Less, or something; anywhere but in there, with everyone else.
“We are sleeping here tonight, baby girl,” Kayda says, lifting the blanket and patting the spot next to her. Melanie laughs, and Kayda smiles, catching Melanie as she falls into her. They immediately entangle themselves into one another, and it’s easy, maybe easier than it's ever been with Sincere.
“Fuck Sincere,” Melanie murmurs into Kayda’s shoulder, arm slung over her waist. “I don’t want to let him control my feelings anymore. I want to have fun. Enjoy my summer. And fuck Zach, too. Que se comen mierda.”
Kayda hums in agreement. “I’m glad we have each other,” she says. Long and slim fingers run up and down Melanie’s back, and a shiver zips down her spine as her mind runs off its rails. It’s incredibly earnest, both her words and the comforting gesture that seems almost automatic, and it strikes Melanie right in the heart. She feels that tingling again, that urge, and fights with herself to push it down.
Melanie forces her eyes closed. “Me too.”
And if Kayda kisses her on the forehead, Melanie pretends she doesn’t feel it.
(America sees it.)
And, sleeping together in Soul Ties, is Melanie and Kayda.
The whole villa knows by the morning that they slept together in Soul Ties. Aniya sidles up to her when they’re eating breakfast. Melanie didn’t have much of an appetite, but Kayda took the job of making them both breakfast, before Sincere or Zach had the chance to. Butterflies burst in her stomach in a way they used to with Sincere when he’d bring her breakfast in the make-up room, something that had since lost its novelty because he’s supposed to do that. Kayda didn’t have to. And Kayda’s pancakes are heart shaped and the eggs are perfectly sunny side up, so. Whatever that means.
“So,” Aniya says.
Melanie looks at her through a mouthful of pancakes. “So?”
“So, you and Kayda slept together in Soul Ties.”
Aniya’s thumb and forefinger are cupping her chin, and she’s trying to look intimidating and investigative, but she just looks sweet as sugar. Melanie giggles and shrugs, looking over her shoulder. There’s Kayda, speaking to Trinity. She turns away before she starts to look suspicious.
“So what?” The hyperawareness is still there, but after last night, Melanie feels that reluctance to speak about it — whatever it is — fading into the distance.
“Uh, hello. What does that mean?” Aniya looks down at Melanie’s plate. The corner of her lip quirks into a smile. “And she made you heart shaped pancakes?”
“She’s my friend and she’s trying to make me feel better. I would do the same for her. I’d do that for you.” Melanie isn’t lying – she’s just maybe not being all the way truthful. Sincere’s ways are getting to her.
Aniya huffs, unconvinced. “I’m going to get answers out of one of you. Don’t worry, Trinity’s already interrogating Kayda as we speak.”
“Good luck,” Melanie sing-songs after Aniya walks away, blowing her kisses. She doesn’t exactly know what they’re doing, either, or why but the thought of Sincere suddenly makes her sick and when she thinks of Kayda it goes away. That’s her answer, for now.
And, sleeping together in Soul Ties for the second night in a row, is Melanie and Kayda.
Melanie had a dream last night. Her dreams have always been something like premonitions. Clear, as if she were watching a movie of her life. As a kid, she dreamed about her grandma meeting Jesus. A week later, she passed. There were other things throughout her childhood, too — a fight where someone pulled a switchblade at school, an ex-boyfriend cheating on her with her best friend behind her back, to name a few. Then she dreamed about Sincere and a bombshell, the green hair, and it happened, and she knew the premonitions had followed her here, too.
So when she dreamed last night about her and Kayda, she knew something was going to happen, and it would be completely out of her control.
This is what the universe wanted.
The recoupling happens, and it blinks by in one big blur. Sincere picks Amora, because of course he does. He only cares for Melanie when he’s not with her. And of course, Amora picks Sincere. They’re coupled up, and Melanie is single and vulnerable. But vulnerable is something she’s felt for a long time, even when she was still coupled up with Sincere.
Maybe Fiji wasn’t for her, and it would be over soon. They’d send her home, just like all the others. Her humiliation would be over. Sincere would be gone. She wouldn’t have to feel so small and insignificant anymore. It didn’t sound so bad.
Except Kayda doesn’t pick to stay with Zach, leaving her single and vulnerable, too. They lock eyes when Kayda’s up there, and something in Melanie shifts. Green — green eyes, green lights, green butterflies. The feeling she thought was envy turns into something softer, warmer watching Kayda up there, listening to her explain her choice.
All she wants to do is kiss her.
When they meet for bed in Soul Ties for the third night, it’s quiet. Kayda holds her, but Melanie knows she’s awake because she’s tense like there’s something on her mind. Melanie can’t sleep, either, as exhausted as she is.
“Talk to me,” Melanie murmurs, and Kayda heaves a quiet sigh, like her words weigh on her chest like a rock. “I’m here.”
“Would it be crazy to…for us to, like…couple up?” Kayda asks, voice extra raspy with sleep. She starts off small, but then her voice rises with certainty. “Sorry if that’s random, but it’s just, like, I don’t want to see either of those fucking guys win shit. I want to still be in the game. I want you to still be in the game. And…all we really have is each other.”
Melanie feels it again. And she can’t control it this time — the desire. It’s God’s will. She lifts herself up on her palms, on top of Kayda, to where she can look her dead in the eyes, the keys to the soul. What she sees is just Kayda in her most natural, vulnerable form. Not Kayda the bombshell, or the Kayda with Zach. Just Kayda, all exposed to her.
It’s not jealousy anymore, as Melanie looks down at her. Her pretty eyes, her plump lips, her smooth skin. It’s want. It’s a need. To touch, to explore. A conocer. She doesn’t give a fuck about the cameras. There’s nothing to hide.
“Is this what you want?” Melanie asks. “Or are you just saying that because you’re a petty ass bitch?”
Kayda’s hands slide up slowly from Melanie’s back to her waist, then to her neck, and finally, her face. It’s just like Melanie’s dream. The warmth of Kayda’s palm on her cheek, her fingertips as they twirl a little curl in the back of Melanie’s neck, her puffs of breath.
“Can it be both?”
Melanie bites a smile, leaning down. “Good answer.”
It’s nothing like their kiss before. It feels like they have all the time in the world; like they’re in a little cocoon where Melanie can pretend every second of this isn’t being recorded for live reality television entertainment. Kayda makes a noise into her mouth when Melanie bites her lip, and then they’re kissing harder, Kayda’s nails scratching down her back, pressing into each other, breathing heavy. Their mics are tossed to the side beside them, but she knows it picks everything up.
She can’t help but compare her to Sincere. His lips aren’t as soft, he’s not as smooth or in tune with the rhythm, and he doesn’t have nails. Nails that drag along the side of her abdomen, or caress the back of her neck. And still, he’s rougher in a way Kayda isn’t. Kayda is everything he isn’t.
She’s good. Good in a way Melanie thinks will stay.
“What was that about French fries?” Melanie kisses into Kayda’s jaw, giggling when Kayda bursts into laughter.
She hopes that is the last thing her mic picks up.