“Please, no,” Kimberly says and pulls Declan off of her sister to save her from his childish fussing around.
Sometime later, as they are standing around at the flight board, luggage checked in and everything else sorted, Kimberly does her real version of looking out for Karin. “You take care of her, alright?” She tells him and Karin can just make it out, coming out of a hug with her Mother.
“I will,” Declan promises.
“And don’t be an ass on television,” Kimberly adds to hearty laughs from the group.
“I’ll try,” Declan says and keeps the laughter going.
“Bye, sis,” Kimberly says, moving on to hug her sister while Declan hugs Darla and his own parents and it feels a little like they are sending them off to summer camp. It’s very similar, most likely, except this one might have even more kissing between childhood friends.
“I’m going to miss you,” Karin says from under Kimberly’s arm to their families.
“We’re going to miss you too,” her Mother says and then Scarlett plucks her from her sister’s half-embrace to hug her tightly.
“Good luck,” Declan’s mom says and then tucks her into her side. “You know, I’m still not a big fan of this but you’re old enough to know what you’re doing.”
“It’s one million dollars if we win,” Declan reminds his mother.
“No amount of money is worth making a mockery of love,” Scarlett laments, shaking her head gravely over the airport noise, the clattering of heels and the hollering echoes of PA announcements. “But I’m just an old, sentimental woman, what do I know?”
“Don’t be so romantic about it, Mother,” Declan says, rolling his eyes and then putting his arm around her free one. “It’s just a game show.”
“Which you’ll be late for if you don’t leave now,” Hank warns, pointing at the board. “Look.”
“Oh, damn it,” Declan exclaims and ignores his mother chiding him for cursing in the face of the flashing letters that spell ‘boarding’ next to their flight gate. “Come on, Rinny, let’s go!”
He jumps into action, grabs his and her carry-ons in each of his hands, shouts a “Bye, everyone!” and then kicks the air in Karin’s direction to get her to move. He moves right on ahead while she goes and presses a kiss on each available cheek and then ducks her head apologetically, trying to take a mental picture of her family to last for the next four weeks and then chases after Declan. It takes until the security line for her to catch up to him, even with him pulling both their suitcases.
“We have thirty minutes until the gate closes, will you relax?” She tells him exasperatedly, trying to catch her breath.
“But Dad said…” Declan heaves back at her, making a pained face from exertion.
“Yes, boarding started but that goes on forever,” Karin says. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get six hundred people on a plane?”
“No,” he says and she chuckles because that’s actually true. Declan has never flown international and those planes are much smaller. The Caymans is the furthest he’ll ever have travelled once they get there. While she has gone to Paris twice during her time at the Ballet school on class trips, Declan has never been big on travelling at all, so she can’t really fault him for jumping the gun on this boarding process.
Needless to say, that of course they make it onto the plane in time and Declan is almost overcome at the size of the Jumbo and giddily settles into their business class seats; the production sprung for that so they wouldn’t have to fly economy. Karin takes in her surroundings, breathing in the smell of the leather seats, the plastic aisles, the various perfumes around her.
She loves travel. She loves this promise of adventure and even if she is very nervous and queasy about their destination, she milks the way there for all it’s worth. There is not a hot towel unused, not a round of drinks refused, and not an episode of a runway TV show on the on-flight entertainment channel unwatched. It isn’t until the “fasten seatbelt” sign comes on that Karin’s nerves come back, just in time for Declan to wake up from his nap with bleary eyes and sleep breath which he conquers by mint, wordlessly passing her one, too.
“Hey,” he drawls, chewing the mint loudly instead of letting it melt, impatiently after instant gratification as per usual. “Are we there yet?”
“Almost,” she replies. “But remember, they’re picking us up with cameras. So, we start acting the second we leave baggage claim.”
“Bring it on,” Declan grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s anxious, too. In fact, he’s so anxious, he doesn’t speak all the way off the plane, through waiting at the visa line and collecting their luggage. The next thing he says to her is “Showtime,” just before they walk out of the gate and then right into the arms of Brody and his camera guy.
And so the game begins.
The camera is already trained on them and Karin puts on a great big smile, glancing over her shoulder to Declan slightly behind her. He smiles back at her and she keeps walking. Eventually, Brody taps the camera guy on the shoulder and so he puts the clunky black thing down and their coordinator crosses the distance still between them in order to shake both their hands warmly.
“Did you have a good flight?” He asks, his white teeth looking even whiter than back in the bleak weather at home. Even in this stuffy airport, the Caymans are already far more vibrant, all the colors sharper and more saturated.
“I slept through most of it,” Declan tells him. “We had a very early morning.”
As if on cue, Karin yawns heartily and nearly drops her carry-on with how fast she hurries her hand over her mouth, profusely apologizing for her lack of manners.
“Don’t worry,” Brody smiles kindly. “We’ll just film a short intro and talking heads segment and then you can sleep in the car over to the villa.”
Oh, the villa. Good lord, it’s really happening now, isn’t it? Karin is preoccupied with this strange mix of anticipation and worry, doing her best to focus on Declan as he talks into the camera, shoulder to shoulder with her, explaining that they just arrived and are so excited to get started on their adventure. Then they shoot the intro, which comprises of just him saying “Hi, I’m Declan Shelton,” and her going: “And I’m Karin Hanson” and then him going, “And we’re playing the Heart Roulette.” This will later segue into their home story, they’re told.
He smiles at her then and there’s this warmth in his look that she’s not sure she’s ever seen so openly directed at her. It tugs at something inside her and reminds her that it’s go-time now. That now’s the moment she can start on her project. Now she can smile back at him with open adoration and let herself believe that it’s real. Now she can get her fill of learning what it would be like to be his and gorge herself until she’s sick of it.
Her face is split in saccharine affection and on a whim, she maneuvers herself under his arm, giggling when he’s a little startled. He kisses the top of her head anyway. He’s done that before, but he’s never lingered like he does now, never kept touching her as long as he does after. He’s holding her hand from the moment Brody calls “cut” to the introduction to their driver Tucker. Walking after the driver as he pulls their luggage, leading them to short-term parking, Karin wonders if Declan’s doing it for show or moral support but it’s too hot to really ponder an answer to that. Stepping outside, the tropical air hits her like a brick in the face, the sun shining down on them blaring and relentless. There’s not a cloud in the sky.
“Gorman is going to ride shotgun in the car with you to get some b-roll,” Brody tells them as they part ways at the black town car waiting for them. “I got the second unit coming in to meet the next couple; two are already at the villa. Marietta will meet you there. Just act natural, alright?”
“You got it,” says Declan, a layer of nerves beneath his voice that Karin is quite certain only she can hear. Because it’s one thing to be cute together with just a camera in front of them, it’s another entirely to do it under th
e scrutiny of a bunch of strangers who are all trying to catch them in a lie.
Climbing into the back-seat after Declan, Karin tries to make this a problem for later and instead tries to think about how to make them look in love when Gorman shoulders his camera again, looking uncomfortably twisted in the passenger seat. What would she do now if Declan was hers? Looking at him there as he settles in, shrugging off the jean jacket he really doesn’t need, the question answers itself. She gives him a moment to get comfortable and then slots in closer, as close as her seatbelt allows and puts her head on his shoulder. If it weren’t for the AC in the car, this would be far too close and too hot but as it is, she’s peachy about the general climate.
Declan follows her move unquestioningly, wrapping a lose arm around her and touching his lips to the crown of her head.
“Are you tired?” He murmurs, low and intimate, and it makes Karin shiver. She swears it’s not because Tucker just kicked up the AC. She hums a yes and he tugs her in closer.
“Is it fine if I take a quick nap?” She asks Gorman, who makes a face and the shrugs, the camera bobbing up and down on his shoulders, nearly hitting the ceiling of the car.
“It’s just a ten-minute ride,” he tells her. “The last bit of it goes right by the ocean, you should see that.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” Karin says and perks up, her will to relax for a second against Declan’s chest broken by the promise of a great sea view. “Then we’ll just watch.”
“Feel free to be really expressive about what you see,” Gorman says and nudges his head in reference to the camera. Karin complies. By the time they make the turn onto the shore street, she excitedly grabs Declan’s hand and folds herself half over him, clamoring for the view out of his window.
“Babe,” she exhales and puts her palm high on his thigh for good measure, squeezing the firm flesh beneath her hand. “Look at that!”
His proximity, even his scent that is only sweetened by the added whiff of sea salt and sunshine, is fading into the background in the face of the nature and scenery outside. Every color is so beyond sharp, so startlingly clear. From the turquoise water to the glimpses of white, dusty sand peeking through the bushes of the scattered houses they pass. She wants to get closer and keeps on climbing on Declan, grabbing him tighter.
“Rinny,” he exhales, low under his breath. He buries his face in her hair, getting close to her ear. “Your hand.”
For emphasis, he puts his on hers, locking it under his fingers and from the movement, she understands what he’s getting at: her hand has been brushing the side of him, little Declan, not quite hard or anything but distinctly not part of his thigh and she’s instantly mortified.
Declan closes his grip on her as she’s going rigid, mutters “relax” so she doesn’t get jumpy, and she manages to keep a lid on it and her hand where it is. She just leans out, keeps her wide eyes trained on him and says loudly, for the camera’s benefit: “I can’t wait to get to the villa.” That’ll surely make for a nice sound bite.
Declan’s simply looking at her. Because she would kiss him now if she was his girlfriend, she does. It’s the fourth kiss they’ve ever shared, but it’s the first she takes the time to feel. It’s of course not comparable to the one they shared when they were kids because that landed on the corner of her mouth at best anyway, and it’s not blurred out by spin-the-bottle liquid courage or diluted by white noise and crippling anxiety in some conference room in a TV production company’s offices.
This time, she puts her mouth on his languidly, moving her lips once, twice until he gives her some pressure back and then she sweeps her tongue over his upper lip, so that he opens up for her, just a little. She doesn’t plan to engage in some heavy petting with him in the back of that car like teenagers. But she wants a real kiss, one that lingers. One that she can feel out to its edges: one she’ll be able to taste on her lips after.
It takes a moment until Declan kisses her back but when he does, he does with gusto, taking his hand off of where hers still sits, just about brushing his situation, and works it into her hair. A moment or forty later, she goes one step further, in that she arches her back into it and adjusts her hand on his thigh just so. Just slight enough to maybe seem like an accident but enough to fully make contact. He hisses sharply into her mouth and next thing she knows; he’s caught her bottom lip between his teeth in a distinct warning and then breaks the kiss.
Faster than she can react, he crosses his legs and catches her wandering hand between both of his, as if to contain her from doing anything else rash. She smirks at him because she can’t quite help herself, admittedly a little bit dizzy and drunk on the kiss. But the way he stares back at her makes the AC feel like a failure, practically non-existent. Karin has half a mind to go in for a bit more, anything to keep that look of breathless confusion and startled hunger on his face, but then the car rumbles to a halt and Gorman clears his throat, reminding Karin that, yes, he’s still there and so is his camera.
“We’re here,” he announces needlessly and Declan nods towards the door on her side once Gorman and Tucker have peeled themselves out of the car.
“I need a minute,” he says, looks at a point somewhere beside her head and then at his crotch.
“Oh,” she mutters.
“Yes,” he grumbles and it looks almost like he’s mad at her. “You know, that’s sort of the hot zone. I thought I was making myself clear.” When he told her off about her hand and she went there anyway.
“I’m just trying to sell it,” she says apologetically and admittedly a little bit defensively.
“I know,” he says, somewhat gruffly. “Just give me a second, alright?”
“I didn’t mean to sexually harass you,” she says quickly, suddenly ashamed of herself, her hand almost shaking on the door handle. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head at her and then laughs, which sounds like he’s trying not to. “You didn’t. It’s not like that. I mean, when we have to sell it, that sort of thing isn’t off limits. You can grope me all you want but just maybe putting your hand on my dick in the back of a car is going a bit hard, isn’t it?” Then he winces, just a little, hearing what he just said and adds sheepishly: “No pun intended.”
Now she really is mortified. Is he really just telling her off for barely grazing his business with the side of her palm as if she tried to jerk him off on camera? That’s not what she was doing. The thought of him thinking that she might have been reaching for anything adjacent to this makes her ears burn.
“I didn’t put my hand on your ... ” she starts and pauses, her lips twitching involuntarily. Oh, don’t be a baby, Karin. Just say it. “Dick.” She glares at him but she still doesn’t want to leave this car in a tiff with him, so she adds, again: “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not mad,” he clarifies and his face softens. “I just wasn’t prepared. I’m fine, now, so we can go out there and be the most lovey dovey people in this whole place. Just maybe warn a guy before you go for his jugular. I have to protect my modesty, you know?”
“You’re an idiot,” she scoffs but not without affection. “So dramatic.”
They’re laughing when they get out of the car and for payback, Declan slaps her butt hard when she bends down to pluck the handle from her carry-on that Tucker has put next to the hub of the car. Butt-slapping, Karin notes, that’s new. It’s not that she doesn’t know he does that, but so far he’s only done it with Tina. Gorman watches the exchange but doesn’t comment on it, instead ushers them toward the front gate of the villa, the scale of which Karin appreciates now for the first time. It looks massive and luxurious, like she’s tumbled headfirst into some parallel world in which she is a superstar and this is her summer getaway. They walk after Gorman, while Tucker backs out of the driveway to go and collect the next couple from the airport. Declan walks before Karin, his head wobbling as he, too, takes in their surroundings.
“Wow,” he says just before Gorman opens the front door and leads
them into a spacious foyer with glass doors looking into a giant living space that seems to have no windows at all, just white pillars on sandy marble that opens onto the shore and the azure ocean. It’s breathtaking.
“You can leave your suitcases here, the maid’s going to bring it to your room,” Gorman tells them. “I’ll get your reactions to the room later and a short reaction to the house once you’ve had a chance to get a good look around. We already filmed the tour with the first couple but you’ll still get one off-camera of course.”
As he finishes with his rundown of what's going to happen, Marietta breezes in through the door from the living room and greets them warmly, like they're old friends.
“Welcome to the villa,” she beams. “Ready to meet the competition?”
“Are we ever?” Declan quips, which Karin knows means no. She’s so distracted by the sheer luxury of the heavy, yet slick and artfully arranged furniture in the larger room as they walk into it, she doesn’t even see the four people standing around on the deck outside.
“I’m going to stay behind now,” Marietta tells them over her shoulder and then stops at the large dining table and points to a tray of champagne flutes. “Just grab a drink and Gorman will follow you outside to get a natural shot of you meeting the others.”
It is exactly what he does. Karin can almost feel the camera zoom in on Declan taking her hand, entwining their fingers and giving her one last look and reassuring squeeze before their scam fully begins. Then they step outside. There’s another guy with a camera outside but most notably, two other couples that turn around to them simultaneously. The first to speak is a tall, tan man with a Clark Kent face and hairstyle, a winning smile as he leads a shorter, blonder, and sharp-featured woman by her waist to meet them. He holds out his hand to Karin.
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