One To Watch: this summer's must-read romcom to fill the Love Island-shaped hole in your life

by Kate Stayman-London

  The answer is no.

  Or it might be yes.

  Or it might not even matter!

  Because here’s the thing: Right now, the show is bad.

  Last night’s episode was one of the most painful I’ve seen—even worse than the one where they forced the racist guy and the black guy into a hot-dog-eating contest. Because while that was disgusting, it was also absolutely entertaining.

  Not so, last night’s horrific adventure on the high seas, where Bea was forced to wear a bikini (at least, I assume she was forced—she certainly looked unhappy about it), endure the snide taunts of men with the emotional maturity of Lindsey Graham, fend off one man who sought to fetishize her body, and finally capitulate for some light frenching with a Frenchie who couldn’t be more obviously vying for camera time. (To be clear, ABS, I will absolutely watch whatever hot-chef Luc spin-off you decide to make; you don’t need to force Bea to make out with him to get me on board!)

  The only moment of last night’s episode where Bea seemed at all happy—well, not happy, exactly, but at least like an actual person—was when she was telling off Kumal, the trainer she kicked off the show for insulting her body to her face. It was nice to see Bea stand up for herself, but the show can’t keep going back to that well. It will get too boring too quickly, and we’re not watching this show for a seminar on body image; we’re in this for the romance! For the drama! For the fantasy of it all!

  But there’s nothing fantastic about what we’re seeing now. This part of the season is always a little awkward: We don’t yet know the suitors well enough to be particularly attached to any of them, so we’re dependent on our connection to the Main Squeeze to stay invested in the season. I’ve spent the last two weeks ready to stan Bea harder than I’ve ever stanned before, but even beyond the show’s terrible one-liners, she just seems stilted and uncomfortable—and frankly, it’s hard to watch, let alone root for her. Understandable? Definitely. Enjoyable? Not in a million years.

  It’s not clear whether the problem is Bea’s negative attitude (as Asher contended last night) or if the entire setup of this season is simply an exercise in schadenfreude at this poor woman’s expense. But there’s one thing I’m sure of: If next week’s episode is as grim as this week’s, it will be the last one I watch this year.

  “Hey guys, can I have the room for a second? I need to chat with Bea.”

  Lauren’s tone was casual, but her voice definitely had a haggard edge. The various wardrobe, hair, and makeup people scurried quickly out of the room where Bea was readying for her next segment: a rundown with Johnny about the dates she’d be going on this week.

  “Is everything okay?” Bea asked carefully. She wasn’t even sure what to be afraid of—was she going to be fully nude this week?—but whatever was going on, it didn’t seem good.

  Lauren sat down next to Bea and exhaled deeply.

  “Our ratings took a hit last night.”

  Bea felt a surge of relief—she nearly burst out laughing. “Is that all?”

  “Bea, this is serious. If this is just a blip, it’s no problem—but if we see a steady decline, well.”

  “If we see a steady decline, what?”

  “Let’s just say it won’t be good for either of our careers.”

  Bea’s expression hardened. “Okay. What do you want me to do about it?”

  “The truth is, there’s been some backlash to your perceived attitude toward the show—and toward the men.”

  “Backlash?”

  Lauren sighed. “Bea, it’s hard for the audience to believe you could actually fall in love here. And since that’s the whole reason they’re watching …”

  Usually, the leads come here looking for love. But you didn’t. Asher’s words still echoed in Bea’s mind, a constant, accusatory thrum threatening to dislodge what little confidence she was clinging to in the wake of the past week.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Bea struggled to maintain composure. “The other women who come here are living in a fantasy, but you keep putting me in these nightmare scenarios.”

  “I literally had you drinking champagne on a luxury yacht off the Malibu coast surrounded by handsome men,” Lauren snapped. “If that’s not a fantasy, I don’t know what is.”

  “Men who objectified me at best and humiliated me at worst!” Bea shot back. “If you want the audience to buy what we’re selling, you have to stop assuming that I’m going to experience these dates the way you would. I don’t live in your body. Men don’t treat me like they treat you.”

  “What about Luc, then?” Lauren narrowed her eyes. “He was wonderful to you, but watching the footage back, you seemed like your mind was somewhere else.”

  Bea closed her eyes and nodded.

  “You’re right. I don’t know, maybe I was still upset about the boat.”

  “Or maybe,” Lauren said shrewdly, “you don’t actually have the stomach to pretend to fall in love with someone you don’t have feelings for? Because if that’s the case, Bea, you and I are both in a lot of trouble.”

  Bea swallowed hard. “I’ll do better this week. I promise.”

  “Good, then that’s all we need to say about it.” Lauren’s expression softened, and she looked a little pained. “It’s pretty unfair that all the good stuff is pretend while the bad stuff is completely real, huh?”

  Bea laughed softly. “When you put it that way, I guess it kind of is.”

  “Keep your eyes on the prize, okay, Bea? Your future. Your career. You’re not doing this for a man. You’re doing it for yourself.”

  TEXT MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT, MARCH 10:

  RAY MORETTI & MARIN MENDOZA

  Ray [8:34am]: Hi, Marin. This is Bea’s friend Ray—we met at her birthday a few years ago? Sorry to bother you, I dug up your number from an old group thread. I’ve been trying to get in touch with her, but none of my texts or emails seem to be going through? I don’t know if you have any way of reaching her while she’s filming, but I really need to talk to her. So if it’s possible, can you give her the message?

  Ray [8:35am]: Thanks. I really appreciate it.

  Marin [8:39am]: You have a lot of nerve to text me.

  Marin [8:40am]: Please don’t do it again. And please leave Bea alone.

  Marin [8:40am]: She deserves so much better than you.

  Half an hour later, Bea walked onto the lushly dressed garden party of a patio where she’d shoot her rundown with Johnny. But when she stepped outside the mansion, the person she saw literally jumping for joy wasn’t her toothy host—it was Marin.

  “What the hell?” Bea asked before she could stop herself—Marin was already rushing toward her and clasping her into a vise-grip hug, and it felt so good to get a moment of genuine happiness.

  “I’m really here, can you believe it?!”

  Bea laughed—part delight, part confusion. “I can’t! What is this, what’s happening?”

  Johnny clearly wanted to get in on a group hug, but as that would have been very weird, he gave a little fist pump instead. “Best friends, reunited!”

  Which is when Bea noticed that the cameras were already rolling.

  “Oh wow, we’re getting right into it, huh?”

  Johnny smiled broadly and escorted Bea and Marin to a table set with tea and scones. “Marin and I have some fun surprises cooked up for you this week, Bea—but first, can you tell us about Marin? How did you two meet?”

  “We were roommates freshman year at UCLA,” Bea answered. “We were completely different—she was always out partying, and I just wanted to stay home to study and watch old movies.”

  “It was so sad,” Marin piped in good-naturedly.

  “Marin, do we have you to thank for getting Bea out of her shell and turning her into a star?”

  “Nah, she did that on her own.” Marin smiled proudly. “I just dragged her to idiotic frat parties on occasion.”

  “They were the worst,” Bea groaned.

  “Listen, no one’s saying frat parties are good
, but the frat guys wanted girls to make out with other girls, and I wanted to make out with other girls, so our interests were temporarily and powerfully aligned,” Marin explained as Bea cracked up.

  “Speaking of making out,” Johnny said, reaching for a segue, “Marin, do you want to tell Bea what you’re doing here?”

  “YEAH, I do!” Marin beamed. “Okay, so actually, I first came here three days ago, but we kept it secret from you.”

  “What! Where was I?”

  “I don’t know, filming your confessionals or trying on gowns or however you spend your time here.”

  Bea nodded—none of that was wrong.

  “While you were doing that, I was meeting your suitors.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I know! I got to grill them about who they are and what they want in life and, best of all, what they think about you.” Marin sat back in her chair with a satisfied smile, while Bea felt increasingly anxious. Had the guys been honest with Marin? Did they say terrible things behind her back—and on camera?

  “How, um. How did the conversations go?” Bea stuttered.

  “Really well,” Marin reassured her. “I felt like I got a great sense of who the guys are. And that’s why I’m so excited that I got to choose which two guys are going on your one-on-one dates this week!”

  “Wow.” Bea’s eyes widened. “You finally found a way to be in charge of my love life.”

  “It’s like when you let me swipe your Bumble, but on TV.” Marin grinned.

  “So Bea,” Johnny said, his voice low and dramatic, “are you ready to find out who you’ll be dating this week?”

  “Do it to it, Johnny.” Bea matched his movie-trailer tone, and Marin snorted.

  One of the PAs scurried over with two small pieces of poster board, which Marin placed facedown on the table before delivering a speech Bea was sure she’d rehearsed with Lauren.

  “Bea, I think you have a lot of terrific guys here, but two of them really stood out to me as perfect matches for you. The first guy I chose is sweet, funny, and has a great attitude about life in general and this show in particular. You should have seen how excited he was when I told him I’d chosen him for a date with you—I hope you’ll be just as excited. Your first date this week is … Sam!”

  Marin flipped over the poster board to reveal Sam’s face. Other than the fact that he was the youngest guy in the house and that he’d accidentally poked her during the premiere, Bea knew absolutely nothing about him. He was definitely attractive—and if Marin liked him, he must be fun to spend time with. Bea chalked this up as a win.

  “Are you excited?” Marin looked at Bea expectantly.

  “Totally!” Bea enthused. “Great pick!”

  “Okay, Marin,” Johnny went on, “who gets to join Bea for her second date this week?”

  “This guy and Bea have a lot in common—they’re both super smart, both keep up with the news, both a little bit argumentative, but in a really charming way.”

  Hmm, this didn’t sound like any of the guys Bea had met. Had Marin unearthed a gem?

  “Of all the guys in the house, this is the one I could most see you ending up with, and I’m hoping you’ll come to agree with me on that. So I really hope you’re excited for your date … with Asher!”

  Marin turned over the second poster, and Asher’s smug face stared back at Bea, looking like he saw right through her even in two dimensions.

  “Bea, you and Asher had a little bit of a disagreement last week,” Johnny goaded. “Do you think Marin made a good choice here?”

  “I—um.” Bea didn’t want to embarrass Marin; she figured it was best to err toward tact. “I haven’t spent much time with Asher. It will be interesting to get to know him better.”

  After they finished filming their segment, Bea and Marin had a few minutes to chat before Bea needed to film producer interviews to discuss her thoughts on her upcoming dates, so they holed up in the empty wardrobe room, where Marin immediately made herself comfortable on a green velvet sofa.

  “So, you having fun on the show so far?”

  She gave Bea a pointed glance, and Bea sighed. It was no use faking anything with Marin.

  “I know, okay? I already had a whole talk with Lauren this morning—I’m gonna try harder to seem happy this week.”

  “Try harder to seem happy? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No?”

  Marin exhaled in frustration. “Bea, I know that doing this show is about your career, but if you spend this entire time avoiding making connections with really great men who came here specifically to meet you … that would be pretty colossally self-sabotaging, even for you.”

  “Wow, have you been talking to my mother?”

  “I’ve got to tell you, I’m with Sue on this one.” Marin grabbed Bea’s hand and pulled her down onto the sofa beside her. “Babe, why should millions of Americans care about your ‘journey to find love’ if you don’t?”

  Bea sank down into the sofa as Marin put her arms around her, realizing how grotesque this whole experience had made her feel, how much it stung to put on a happy face around all these men while steeped in the knowledge, every waking minute of every single day, that none of them were remotely attracted to her.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I thought pretending would be easier.”

  “Don’t you see?” Marin snuggled up against Bea. “It’s good that it’s not easy. If it were easy, that would mean you didn’t care about finding love. But I know that’s not true, Bea. I know how badly you want this. And I know how close you came to having it.”

  Bea closed her eyes, pained and relieved to be with someone who knew the real reason why she couldn’t feel happy when she was kissing Luc.

  Marin squeezed Bea’s arm. “Bea, do you think it’s possible that you don’t want to date any of these other men for real because you’re still hoping that somehow you might end up with Ray?”

  “It’s not like I can just force myself to fall out of love with him,” Bea protested.

  “I know. But you can try to move on—particularly since, you know, you’re currently starring on a show where they’ve literally flown in handpicked men from all over the country to date you?”

  “Men who despise me.”

  “That’s not true! I met them all, and a lot of them really like you—especially Sam and Asher.”

  “Sam is a child, and Asher is a jerk.”

  “Sam’s more mature than you’d think—you’ll see when you spend time with him. And Asher is totally your type.”

  “He’s a smug know-it-all!”

  “Correct! Your type! You act like I wasn’t present for all fifty of your professor crushes.”

  “Sure, in college.”

  “What about that editor you met at that book party two years ago? You wouldn’t shut up for weeks about how hot he was.”

  “No one’s saying Asher isn’t hot—”

  “Aha!” Marin’s eyes lit up. “So you are interested in him.”

  “What does it matter if I am?” Bea huffed. “You saw him on the boat. He publicly accused me of coming here for the wrong reasons, of wasting his time.”

  “And I agree, his methods left something to be desired,” Marin concurred. “But was anything he said actually, you know, untrue?”

  Bea sighed. She absolutely hated to admit that it wasn’t. But none of these men seemed to understand just how much it could cost her to be open with them.

  “I know what happens when I fall in love,” she said quietly. “And I can’t—last year was so bad, Mar. I don’t know if I can live through that again.”

  Marin smoothed Bea’s hair out of her eyes. “You can live a long life never being hurt—and never quite being happy. If that’s what you want.”

  Bea shook her head—it wasn’t.

  “So try, Bea. Okay? You don’t have to get engaged, you don’t have to give anyone your heart. But at the very least, just promise me you’ll try.”

  After a long mo
ment, Bea nodded.

  “I promise.”

  HIGHLIGHTS FROM SAM COX’S MAIN SQUEEZE APPLICANT SURVEY, AS POSTED ON ABS.COM

  Name: Sam Cox

  Occupation: Volunteer basketball coach

  Hometown: Short Hills, New Jersey

  Favorite place you’ve traveled? Cambodia

  Favorite ice cream? Mint chip. No, fudge ripple. Or peanut butter! Also Cherry Garcia. And Phish Food. Wow, I have a thing for jam band ice cream flavors, but I hate their music. What do you think it means?

  Who is your role model? My mom, Claudette, is the chief cardiac surgeon at Mountainside Hospital. She’s brave enough to hold people’s lives in her hands, and strong enough to live up to the responsibility.

  If you could accomplish just one thing in your life, what would it be? Okay, Main Squeeze, getting deep with it. Respect. Oh, you want an answer? I have no idea.

  The next morning, Bea had to get up at an ungodly hour for her date with Sam. Alison dressed her in artfully tattered boyfriend jeans, a whisper-thin Monrow tee, a men’s soft leather bomber with the sleeves pushed up to Bea’s elbows, and vintage Nikes, so Bea knew they were going somewhere casual, but she had no idea where. And Lauren insisted that the surprise not be spoiled—so Bea and Sam were going to be blindfolded for their limo ride to their date.

  “Seriously?” Bea asked when a PA produced two black satin blindfolds emblazoned with rhinestones that formed the Main Squeeze logo.

  Sam looked skeptical, too, but Lauren was having none of it.

  “I promise,” she assured them, “you’re going to be more upset than I am if we lose time at your destination, so can you put on the blindfolds so we can get moving?”

  And that’s how Bea and Sam came to be blindfolded, led into a limousine with two cameras trained on their every move, and driven clear across Los Angeles at six o’clock in the morning.

  “Where do you think they’re taking us?” he asked.